A.N.  Well, here is super long chapter 8- warning, serious angst coming up here!  You had to know things weren't going to stay sweet and sappy for much longer.  Thank you to everyone who reviewed- I love you guys!!!  And to everyone anxious to know Chandler's secret- read on!

Please review!!! I want to see if you guys still like this after I throw a few twists in.  

Xoxo,

Maddy.

            It was 6:45 am, and Alyse, nursing a mug of coffee, frantically poured over her algebra notes for ten more minutes.  Although she had never been much of a coffee drinker, those hours spent with her brother and his friends at Central Perk were starting to come at a price; in the form of a major caffeine addiction.

            She heard the alarm go off in her brother's bedroom and wondered if Monica had stayed over last night, as she had been doing several nights a week for the past month.  They had thought it was going to be too weird for Alyse, and she had to give credit where credit was due; they held off for a long time before broaching the subject with her.  After the instant green light and the almost story book adjustment, the three of them were happier than they had been in a long time.

            A girly giggle resonating from behind his door answered her question.  She checked her watch; 7:05.  She was going to be late and she needed his signature on some dumb paperwork.  Haphazardly shoving notes and books into her backpack, she slung it over one shoulder and banged on her brother's door with her elbow three times.

            "It's me and I have to come in so stop whatever you're doing," she said, closing her eyes and pushing the door open.

            "Open your eyes gutter mind," Chandler said, while she heard Monica laugh.  She did, to reveal Monica fully dressed, gathering her things, and her brother still in bed.

            "Morning sunshine," Monica said with a grin, giving Alyse a big hug and squeezing her ribs, which, she knew, was her most ticklish spot.  It was their morning joke; Alyse's grumpiness in the mornings had gone from bad to legendary, and Monica's unnatural early sunniness was a comedic foil.

             "What are you doing up so early, I thought I'd have to drag you this morning," Chandler asked as Alyse sat on the corner of the bed.

            "I got up to finish studying," she said.  "Can you sign this?  I want to get the early bus and ask my teacher a math question."

            "How we're related I don't understand," Chandler said, signing her paper.  "What was that, by the way?"

            "Permission slip.  Going to the reservoir for biology," she said, obviously unenthused.

            "Ew," Monica said from the bureau, where she was brushing her hair.

            "Tell me about it.  Bye guys," Alyse said.

            "Bye.  Don't forget, Joey's after school."

            Alyse groaned.  "Not again… his weird girlfriend is always around now, and she creeps me out." 

            Monica laughed.  "Would this be the infamous Nicole?"

            "Yes, and she's the worst, Chandler I can't spend another second with her."

            "Why doesn't she spend the afternoon at mine and Rachel's?  I only work till 3 today," Monica offered.

            "Yes yes yes!" Alyse exclaimed.

            "You sure?" Chandler asked Monica.

            "Positive.  It's decided."

            "Fine with me," he shrugged.

            "Yes!  Okay I gotta go.  Bye you two," Alyse said, a smile on her face.  She left, her backpack bursting, letting the door close on her way.

            Chandler watched Monica finish getting dressed.  She caught his eye in the mirror and smiled.

            "What's up?" she asked.

            "Nothing.  That shirt is very nice," he said, commenting on her v-neck t-shirt that was a little on the tight side.  She grinned and turned around, leaping back onto the bed.

            "You didn't like it last night.  If I remember correctly, it was the first thing you removed."

            "Last night it was in my way," he murmured, kissing her slowly.  He rolled on top of her as things escalated.

            "Chandler… I can't," she mumbled against his lips. 

            "Sure you can," he pleaded, kissing her neck.

            "I have to be at work in like twenty minutes… and what is this?" she asked, reaching underneath her to find what was crunching beneath her.  He stopped when she pulled a once folded, but now crumbled, piece of notebook paper out.

            "What's that?" he asked.  She shrugged and inspected it.

            "Must have fallen out of Alyse's bag.  It looks like a note."

            Chandler made a grab for it.  "I read these when I find them," he explained.  She hit his arm as he lifted himself off her and sat Indian style, unfolding the note.

            "You can't do that, Chandler, that's such an invasion of privacy," she said, trying to get the paper back.

            "Precisely.  I find out all the stuff she doesn't tell me this way."

            Monica narrowed her eyes at him.  "That is so wrong.  I want nothing to do with this," she said, standing and gathering her things as Chandler started to read.

            "Wait a second.  It's from someone named Justin… but that's a boy's name, that can't be right.  Maybe it says Justine…" he said, squinting.  Monica rolled her eyes.  "Nope, it definitely says Justin," Chandler said, obviously unhappy with this turn of events.

            "She could legally declare her independence from you for this and would probably be totally justified," Monica said.

            "Dear Alyse, Hi, What is up?" Chandler began.  "What is up?  He hasn't learned contractions.  Monica this is not good."

            "I said I wanted no part in this," she reminded him.

            "The history test was really hard, did you think so too?  Probably not because you are so smart," Chandler continued.  He scoffed. 

            "That is so cute!" Monica squealed, joining him on the bed.  "Someone likes Alyse!"

            "I thought you wanted no part of this," Chandler mocked.

            "Keep reading," she said impatiently.

            "Okay... because you are so smart… I saw you yesterday at lunch and you were laughing really hard with Natalie… what were you laughing about?"  Chandler looked at Monica pointedly.  "Stalker tendencies."  She elbowed him. 

            "It's sweet, keep reading."

            "I was wondering if you were going to the 8th grade dance, and if you are, did you want to go with me," Chandler said, his eyes bugging out.  "And it's signed, 'I really think you're cool, Justin."

            "That might be the most adorable thing I've ever heard," Monica said.

            "Adorable or disturbing?  This can't be happening," he said, rubbing his head.

            "Aw sweetie, it's okay.  It's just a dance," Monica consoled, rubbing his shoulders.

            "No, it's not 'just a dance', this is where it starts… she wasn't supposed to get to this point before I was ready."

            "Honey she's thirteen… what did you expect?"

            "Not this!  She can't go, absolutely can not go."

            "Chandler, you have to let her go.  And you can't tell her you read this," Monica said, indicating the note.  "She'll tell you when she's ready."

            Chandler shook his head.  "What if she doesn't?  I mean, why would she, really, teenage girls don't usually go their brother about stuff like this.  She needs a mother, just like Girl Scouts, just like every year on stupid Mother's Day-"

            "Chandler, you're so much more than a normal brother to her, you're amazing…" Monica tried.  He stood jauntily and paced the floor.  She looked at him, surprised.

            "I don't get why you're making such a big deal out of this," she said after several seconds.  He stopped and stared at her incredulously. 

            "Of course you don't," he said coolly.  "Why would you?  You don't know how it feels to have to be someone's mom, dad, brother and best friend all at once." 

            "You're right.  I don't," she said, slightly irritated.  "But I understand how hard it is."

            "No you don't, Monica," he said, raising his voice and slamming his fist on the bureau.  She jumped, startled.  He stared at the ground and she stared at him for several seconds.

            "Okay, you know what?  I'm going," she said, grabbing her bag and heading for the door.  He sighed, rubbing his temple.

            "Mon, wait, I'm sorry."  She pivoted and turned to look at him, her blue eyes at once angry and concerned.

            "What's going on?" she asked.  He shook his head.

            "I don't know.  I'm sorry I snapped at you," he said.  She looked at him and noticed that he was close to tears.

            "What is it, sweetie?" she asked, softer.  She walked over to him and hugged him.  He let her hold him for a few minutes. 

            "I'm sorry," he said again, squeezing her tighter.

            "It's okay.  I just wish you'd tell me what upset you so badly."

            "It's nothing," he stonewalled, still locked in her embrace.

            "Is it… is it your mom?" she asked timidly.  Throughout their entire relationship, the only words Chandler had ever spoken about his mother was the story he told her about how she died that first night at Rachel's birthday party all those months ago. 

            "I don't want to talk about it," he said, sharply.  He pulled away and looked at her.  "Okay?" he asked, more gently.  She nodded uncertainly.

            "Okay."

            "You better go.  You'll be late," he said.  She kissed him.

            "I love you," she said.  He avoided eye contact.

            "You too," he mumbled, pretending to look for something in a drawer.  She looked at him one last time before leaving.  Something was up.

            Chandler knew that he handled everything wrong that morning.  He knew she was probably upset, and had every right to be.  He wished that he could communicate better, that he could tell her everything that was eating at him.  But he couldn't put it into words.  How can you put nine years of turmoil into words?

            She probably thought he was insane, getting so worked up about a stupid dance.  Or maybe she knew him better than he thought she did; maybe she knew it wasn't about the dance at all.  Monica had that uncanny way of seeing into his soul; maybe she saw that it was more about Alyse growing up, getting ready to go through those awkward teenage years, without a mother.  But even if she knew all that… she didn't know the secret.  And she wouldn't.  No matter how badly he wanted to tell her.  No matter how sweet she was, how caring, how concerned.  No matter how long he had to stare into those deep blue eyes and avoid the truth.

            "Hey… can I ask you something?" Alyse asked Monica later that day at her kitchen table.

            "Sure," Monica said, laying down her pencil that she was using to calculate the lunch receipts from the restaurant.  

            "Never mind," Alyse reconsidered, looking back to her biology book.

            "No, what?" Monica asked.  "You can ask me anything."

            "Okay.  It's just… there's this dance," she began uncomfortably.

            "I think you should maybe ask your brother," Monica replied quickly.  She wasn't getting in the middle of this one, not after how Chandler acted this morning.

            "I can't talk to him about this, I really want to talk to you," Alyse pleaded. 

            Monica took a deep breath.  "Okay, if that's what you want.  What's up?"

            "Well, the dance… it's next Friday.  And this boy from my history class, Justin Daley… he sort of asked me to go with him."

            Monica smiled.  "And you want to?"

            Alyse shrugged.  "I don't know.  It'll probably be stupid but Hannah's going with a boy and so is Natalie…"

            "Okay.  I'm still not seeing the question."

            "It's two questions, really.  Is Chandler going to freak out?"

            "Yes.  Next?" Monica said.

            "Okay, next is… I don't have anything to wear," she said.  "And I thought maybe you could help me find something, because you always have such pretty clothes and Rachel works at Bloomingdales and-" she rambled.

            "Alyse!  Of course I'll take you shopping!" Monica said excitedly.  She went around the table and gave her a big hug.  "This is so exciting!"

            "Okay, so when can we go?" Alyse asked, unable to keep the excitement out of her own voice.

            "I can go next Monday, after school?"

            "Okay!"

            "After you ask your brother."

            Alyse groaned.  "Can you ask him?"

            "No way," Monica said, shaking her head.  "You're on your own."

            Alyse had chosen to ask her brother that night, at Central Perk with the whole group, in a clever attempt to avoid a conflict.  To her surprise, and Monica's, he said yes instantly.  It seemed like a non-issue.  Strangely, the part he seemed to feel the most uncomfortable with was the shopping trip on Wednesday.

            Monica could sense that something was still bothering him, so she gave him his space that night.  They didn't talk again until the next afternoon, when she surprised him at work.

            "Hey, you," she said smiling.  "I brought you lunch."

            He smiled back slightly.  "Thank you, that was very nice."

            She shrugged.  "It was partly selfish.  I kinda missed you."  She searched for eye contact unsuccessfully.

            "I missed you too," he said, absently returning her kiss.  She sat on the corner of his desk and took his hands.

            "Look… I know you've been thinking about your mom lately.  And I wish you'd talk to me about it."

            "It's nothing, really.  I'm fine," he reassured her.  She shook her head.

            "It's not fine.  When something bothers you, it bothers me… you can tell me anything, you know that, right?" she asked, stroking his cheek.  He pushed her hand away.

            "It's just this whole dance thing, I just know Alyse wishes her mom was around for this kind of stuff," he said.  "And you taking her shopping, as nice as it is, it's not good enough."

            "I know it's not good enough," she said.  "She should have a mom to do that stuff with.  But… terrible things happen Chandler.  Things that are nobody's fault."

            He laughed bitterly, a laugh she'd never heard before.  "You wouldn't understand."

            "I would if you told me!  God, Chandler… why are you acting like this?" she asked, frustrated.

            "There's nothing to tell you, okay?  Why are you here, anyway?  So that you can feel like you did a good deed by trying to open me up?" he yelled.  She stood, shocked at his outburst.

            "I'm here because I actually care about you!" she yelled back.  "Although you're being such a jerk right now I don't know why."

            "So why don't you go?" he asked, dangerously quieter.  A threat they both knew was empty.

            She took a step towards him and swallowed her anger.  "Because I love you and I want you to be able to talk to me."

            "Well, I can't.  I don't want to talk to you about this," he said stubbornly.

            "About what?  About your mom?" she said softly.  "About how you miss her?"

            He nodded slowly, a tear escaping from one eye.  She reached for him, held his shoulders.

            "It's okay to miss her," she said.  "It's okay for Alyse to miss her."

            He looked into her eyes, eyes begging for him to trust her.  When had she started meaning so much to him?  His anger returned, the only emotion strong enough to overpower his love for her, and he pushed her away.

            "No, it's not okay!" he yelled.  "It's not okay for Alyse to have to miss her, it's not, and it's not okay that she died.  Alyse isn't happy as happy as she could be and it's my fault," he said, his voice still wavering.

            "It's not your fault.  Bad things happen to good people sometimes, you know that.  You know it's not your fault," Monica pleaded, her eyes tearing, afraid to reach for him again.

            "Yes, Monica.  It is my fault.  You really want to know the truth?  Are you sure?" he asked, almost hysterically.  "Because I didn't want to tell you.  But I don't fucking care anymore.  You want to know why it's my fault?  My mom and Michael flew to Jamaica for a vacation, and they wanted to stay 2 weeks; the first, just the two of them, and the second, I was supposed to fly out with Alyse and meet them.  Like a family vacation.  Everything was set and it was going to be fine," he said.  He choked back a sob and continued, Monica hanging on every word, tears streaming down her face. 

            "But I was a kid in college, and there was a party at school that weekend.  And I wanted to go.  I called my mom to tell her, and she was so mad at me… so angry, so hurt.  I didn't care.  I didn't fucking care.  And so they flew back a week early.  A week earlier than they should have.  And their plane crashed," he finished. 

            Monica placed her hand on his arm.  "Chandler, that's not your fault.  You weren't flying the plane…"

            "It doesn't matter!  God can't you see that?  It doesn't matter.  If I had just gone, like I was supposed to, they would have even been on the plane in the first place," he screamed.  She stepped back.

            "You can't blame yourself for that," she begged.  "It's not your fault."

            "It is my fault!  Say it- say it's my fault," he sobbed, collapsing in his chair as years of pent up emotion poured from his every vein.  He looked up at her once he calmed down.

            "I think you should go," he said stonily.

            "No, Chandler, please-"

            "Go."  She looked at him, those eyes begging to let her save him.  "Get the hell out of here."

            She went.

What did you think???    I'll be continuing soon, this story only has a few more chapters.  (P.S., I think I got way too much sadistic joy out of writing that fight, and I don't know why, lol).  Leave a review, PLEASE!