Before I start, I want to dedicate this chapter to Becca, because she made me :p But seriously, I loverr you, Becca Wecca! Mwah! I need to think of a better nickname for you…

Chapter Fifteen

"No!"

Monica's eyes shot open, sweat pouring down her face, her heart beating rapidly. Everything around her looked blurry, just as it always has since her attempt. She abruptly sat up and tried to glance around her room. She checked her arms, legs, face, and wrists, and when she found nothing unusual, she let out a deep sigh and collapsed back onto her bed.

"What a – a dream…" Monica muttered to herself, slowly closing her eyes. She silently listened to the steady beat of raindrops just outside the window, her mind blank. The raindrops drummed against the rooftops of buildings around as a deep roll of thunder broke the comforting peace. Monica exhaled while wiping the sweat from her face.

Gradually, her heartbeat returned to normal and the sweat dried. Out of nowhere, a sudden chill ran up Monica's spine and she shuddered. She quickly rubbed her eyes to clear her vision, but all in vain. The room was dark and dismal, making any hopeful thoughts exit her mind. Her room seemed as if it had her suicidal thoughts hanging over it. Shadows cast across the walls and hard wooden floor, her window curtains flew this way and that.

Monica shuddered again, feeling the cold breeze shoot across the room. She slowly got up from her bed and walked over to the window, hugging herself protectively. When she reached the large window, she forcefully closed it and collapsed onto the floor.

Nights always seemed to be the same since she came back from the hospital. A dreary feeling loomed around her, haunting her, chilling her to the bone. She woke up from nightmares almost ever night, never seeming to be able to rid them. She knew each one had a connection, but each night that connection seemed to blur.

Monica stood up from the floor, letting out a shaky breath. She walked over to her bedroom door, running her hands up and down the smooth wood. Then, she gradually reached for the doorknob and turned it. She took one last glance at her room and walked out into the living room.

Everything was in the exact same place she left it before the attempt. It was apparent that her friends tried to clean it up to please her, but nonetheless, everything stayed the same. Monica walked over to the kitchen and stared down at the floor, seeing the bloodstain. She knelt onto her knees and ran her hands across the floor, tears soaking up into the wooden floor as they fell from her eyes.

"Why was I so stupid?" Monica whispered, closing her eyes. "Why?" She opened her eyes and looked at the empty shelves that should have been filled with plates and cups. She stood from her knees and walked over to the cabinet drawers. She opened one and noticed no knives held their usual place. They were gone, they no longer held onto that night.

Monica wanted more than anything to never hold onto that night again. But it stuck to her; it would stick to her for the rest of her life. She'd never be able to escape the dreading feeling, the reminder that she tried to end her life. She'd have three scars to remind her any time that she'd try to forget.

Monica walked out of the kitchen and went over to the couch, lying down on top of it. She stared at the ceiling, trying to clear her mind of any unpleasant thoughts. But no matter how hard she tried, the same thought entered her mind.

She ended her life the minute she tried to begin it.

* * *

The next morning, Joey walked into Monica and Chandler's apartment, heading straight for the fridge. He took out a soda and opened it, looking around the room.

"Mon?" he called out. "Are you awake?" He set down the soda on the kitchen table and walked over to her bedroom door, slightly opening it. When he saw it was empty, he closed the door and turned around, immediately fretting the worst. He sighed when he saw Monica on the sofa, apparently asleep.

Joey quietly walked over to Monica and softly smiled. He took the blanket hanging over the couch and covered her petite, pale body. Monica lightly stirred, her eyes slowly opening. She smiled when seeing Joey hovered above her.

"Joey?" she muttered, her eyes still half closed. Joey sat on the edge of the couch and put his arm around her shoulders.

"Yeah, it's me," he gently replied while stroking her hair with his free hand. He looked at Monica with caring eyes, flashing her a loving smile. Monica slowly sat up and rubbed her eyes, attempting to clear her vision. Joey's face still looked blurry, and Monica wasn't sure if she was in a dream.

"Am I awake?" she asked, her voice edged with confusion. Joey looked at her and gave her half of a smile.

"Yeah, you are," he told her, uncertain.

"Pinch me." Everything Monica saw, she saw as if through a dream. Nothing seemed real at that moment. Light shined, but everything around her was hazy. It was as if she were standing in the middle of the line between reality and fantasy.

"What?" Joey looked at Monica and felt her forehead, flustered and dazed as to her strange behavior. Monica shook his hand off of her forehead and pinched herself. She flinched and slowly laid back down, her head resting on the armrest.

"What time is it?" she asked, her voice just a bit shaky. Joey looked over at the clock above her television set.

"10:30," he replied, standing up. "I – I have an audition to go to, will you be okay?"

Monica sighed and turned her head towards Joey. "I'll be fine, Joe… I'm a big girl; it's ok… I can be left alone." She put her hand to her forehead and slowly rubbed it, trying to think clearly.

"Okay… Ross is across the hall in my apartment if you need anything," he replied and bent over to kiss Monica on the cheek. "I'll be back soon, and we'll do something together if you want."

Monica let a small smile escape her lips. "That'd be fine." Joey smiled and stood up straight. He walked over to the door and turned.

"Bye, Mon."

Monica nodded, and Joey left the room. Slowly, Monica stood from the couch. When she first stood up, she quickly held out her arms to balance herself as she felt a wave of nausea flood through her. It quickly passed, and Monica was left standing in the middle of the living room, not knowing what to do next. Her mind was blank, her body weak.

Monica's eyes shot toward Chandler's door when she heard it open. Chandler walked out of his room with disheveled hair and red, scratchy eyes, indicating he'd been shedding tears. Monica silently backed away while Chandler's eyes were still facing the ground, and her eyes hardened. Her eyes never left Chandler, and while backing up, she tripped over a loose pillow. Chandler's eyes glanced away from the floor and quickly into Monica's eyes.

For a second, time seemed frozen. They just stood there, gazing into each other's eyes without a word. Their bodies were frozen in one spot, their eyes frozen in place. Only their faint breathing could be heard, only each other could be seen.

Monica quickly shook her head and looked away. She stood from the floor and walked away and towards the apartment door. Chandler sighed.

"Monica, wait!" he called after her. Monica stopped in front of the door stood there for a few seconds without turning around. She shook her head and walked out the door, leaving Chandler standing in the room alone.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into the empty room.

* * *

Monica walked aimlessly out of her apartment and down the sidewalks of New York City. Strangers pushed passed her, screaming, yelling, running… anything to keep peace away. Monica tried to go through the crowd without bumping into anyone, and soon reached the coffeehouse. She stood in front of the doors for a few minutes, frozen to her spot.

She remembered the days when her and her four friends would all come into the coffeehouse, laughing, joking, living their lives. They'd sit on the old orange sofa in the middle of the shop and sip coffee, talking with no worries, no fears. They'd spend most of their days in that coffeehouse, being the only five people in the world. Anybody around them was merely a vision, a blur. They'd pay attention to them and them alone. They were the best of friends.

Monica sighed and shook her head. Those times were gone, now. It was all gone. Her happiness, her fun, her energy was gone. It was as if everything vanished into thin air, never to been seen or heard of again.

Monica slowly moved from her spot and walked into the glass doors leading into Central Perk. She moved her way towards the vacant couch and hesitantly sat on it. A waitress walked over to Monica and smiled.

"Can I help you?" the waitress asked, getting her pad and pen ready. Monica nodded.

"I – I'll have sweetened coffee, please," she said as if mechanically.

When the woman left, Monica looked around the familiar room, smelling the coffee, listening to the constant chatter, taking in the homely feelings. She closed her eyes and pictured Ross, Phoebe, Joey, and Chandler all in one of the usual spots one of the five always sat in. She visualized them all laughing, talking, and having a great time.

Monica gently smiled as she pictured a normal day within the group.

Chandler just finished one of his constant jokes. Everyone laughed, and suddenly Phoebe voiced a question. Ross tried to explain the answer, but Phoebe disagreed. Suddenly, they both jumped into an argument. The other three friends simply shook their heads as Chandler pulled his arm around Monica's shoulder and squeezed it gently. He whispered into her ear and she smiled, giggling. Joey grinned and began telling them about his last audition. They sat there, sipping coffee, living life freely and fully.

"Miss?" someone called out.

Monica shot her eyes open, half expecting to see her friends surrounding her. Her heart dropped as she came back into reality and realized she was alone in the coffeehouse. She reached out her hands as the waitress handed her the over-large mug and forced a smile.

"Thanks," she mumbled, setting the coffee onto the table. The waitress walked away and Monica darted her eyes around the room.

Everything seemed the same. Everything looked the same, everything sounded the same, everything tasted the same. Everything seemed the same.

But Monica was all too aware that everything was far from the same.

* * *

Monica heard a soft knock on her bedroom door. She took her pillow from her face and sat up on her bed, her eyes half closed.

"Who is it?" she called out. She heard a pause, then watched her door slightly open.

"It's Joey," he replied, poking his head from the small crack in the door. "Can I come in?"

Monica nodded, so Joey walked into her room, closing the door behind him. He walked over to her quilted bed and sat next to her. For a moment, there was complete silence. Monica stared at the wall in front of her, and Joey's eyes were glued to his hands.

Suddenly, Joey cleared his throat, making Monica jump. Joey smiled, and Monica forced a smile.

"Is there something you wanted to talk about?" Monica asked, looking back at her friend. Joey shifted his weight and looked deep into Monica's eyes. He hesitated for a minute, but nodded.

"Yeah, there is. But before you say anything, I want you to hear me out, okay?" Monica looked at Joey skeptically. Slowly, she nodded.

"Fine."

Joey took his eyes away from Monica's, and his smile faded. "It's about Chandler."

Monica groaned and looked away. "Joey, I-"

"You promised you'd hear me out!" he cut her off. Monica sighed and shrugged.

"Continue," she replied, her voice anything but enthusiastic. Joey nodded, and took her hand in his.

"I'm going to tell you right now that what I'm about to say is not because I'm Chandler's best friend, but because you're mine," he whispered, leaning in closer to Monica. Monica nodded, somewhat touched by his comment. "You have to forgive him, Mon," he continued, his voice about to crack. Monica was about to cut him off, but she heard the desperation in his voice, the fear in his voice. She sighed, but decided against saying anything.

"He didn't do anything to you." Joey looked away from Monica when he saw the fire burn in her eyes. He frowned, afraid of her reaction.

"He did everything to me!" Monica yelled, forgetting her promise to keep quiet. She looked away from Joey just as he glanced back up at her. He put his hand on her cheek and turned her head so she was looking into his eyes once more.

"Did he really? Joey answered, his voice hushed. He shook his head. "You never told him to call you when you left, Mon. You didn't tell him what to do, you didn't tell him why you left. It's not his fault. He was afraid, confused. Would you know what to do if you had to choose between your best friend and the person you thought was your soul mate? Would you? Could you honestly tell me that your mind would be clear, you'd know exactly what to do?" Monica didn't say anything, so Joey continued. "He doesn't know that you love him, Mon, because you never told him. He's not a mind reader, he can't know how you feel if you don't tell him."

Monica slowly looked away from Joey, now more confused than ever. She looked ahead, trying to keep her coming tears invisible to him. "What about at the hospital? Would he really have yelled and grabbed my arms if he cared for me?" Monica muttered, keeping her eyes glued to the white wall in front of her.

"He was afraid, we all were," Joey told Monica, his eyes teary, his voice scratched. "You almost died, Mon, we were all so scared we were going to lose you, nothing was clear. We were angry at ourselves, hurt you'd do that, scared to death you'd leave us forever. But it was different for him, Mon, because he blamed himself. And I admit it, at the time we all blamed him. But nothing was his fault. You tried to kill yourself, Mon. You left him and came back to New York. And in no way am I saying this is your fault, but now you have to forgive him. All he wants is your friendship, all he needs is you."

Without another word, Joey stood from Monica's bed and walked out the door. Monica sighed and collapsed onto her bed, thinking over Joey's words.

You tried to kill yourself, Mon. You left him and came back to New York. It's not his fault.

* * *

In the stillness of the night, Chandler lain awake in bed hurt, dazed, and confused. What was he supposed to do? Was he supposed to run away from everything, hide away for the rest of his life?

Bing, I think you're already taking care of that, he thought bitterly. He stayed in his room just about all day, the fear that Monica was in the next room always lingering in his heart. It tore him apart each time he saw Monica's pain and suffering when he saw her, and he couldn't bear the fact that he was the one causing that pain and suffering. He was hurting her, and he had no idea how to stop it. He tried. He tried apologizing to Monica numerous times. But she just walked away, but hearing what he had to say. But he wouldn't blame her… he could never blame her.

Chandler abruptly stood from his unmade bed and walked out of his room. He froze when he saw Monica sleeping on the couch, her hair strewn about, her arm falling off of the couch. Chandler smiled at the sight before him. She looked so peaceful sleeping, like an angel.

Chandler strolled over to the couch and sat at the edge of it. For a moment, he just sat there watching her sleep. He watched as she slowly breathed in and out, her mouth just slightly open. Chandler carefully took her hand and stroked her hair, his eyes soft, his touch healing. He watched as she slightly stirred, but didn't open her eyes. Chandler took the blanket hanging from the back of the couch and covered Monica. He watched as she gradually stretched, her eyes slowly opening.

* * *

Everything around her was blurry, and she was sure she was in a dream.

Chandler was sitting next to her, his eyes panicked. Instinctively, she pulled away from him. But when she saw his hurt expression, she stayed put. Chandler looked at Monica with kind eyes, a loving touch. His eyes were brimmed with tears, and his face was scrunched up as if trying to fight the tears.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice cracked. "I – I'm so, so sorry." Chandler buried his face in his hands, and Monica could have sworn she heard him whimper. Any other time she would have merely walked away from Chandler without a second glance. But this time, something was stopping her.

All he wants is your friendship, all he needs is you.

Monica looked into Chandler's eyes and saw all of the guilt and pain held up inside of them. Something tugged at her heart, and this time she was sure it wasn't hate that did this. She sadly looked at his crying figure, feeling tears well up in her own eyes. Chandler took his hands from his face and looked at Monica with red, wet eyes.

"I'm so sorry," he repeated, his voice sorrowful. Monica took in a deep breath.

"It – it's ok," she muttered, looking down at the floor. Chandler looked up at her, surprised. "It's okay," she said again, this time more confidentially. Without thinking, Monica pulled Chandler into a tight hug.

But when she felt her heart fill with love and compassion, she knew that it wasn't a dream, she wasn't dreaming.

Monica tightened her grip around Chandler, sobbing into his shoulders. "It's okay, I forgive you," she said one last time, her entire face now buried into Chandler's shoulders.

Without another word, Chandler and Monica clung to each other, their future suddenly brighter.

To be continued…

You thought it'd be over by now, didn't you? :p Did you like this chapter? Do you want me to continue? Let me know! Review! Oh, and once again… thank you so much Becca! Everyone, Becca really helped me out. I saved this chapter on a floppy and it wouldn't appear, and Becca save it :D If it weren't for her, you'd have to wait another two weeks until I wrote the entire story over again!

*applauds Becca*