The One With The Truth About Santa

By: Jana~

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Chapter Four

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--Even Ross glanced around the room, though no one really expected anything to happen. Well, no one, except for Monica.

Not that she expected something to happen, necessarily, but a little something deep inside, wanted something to happen. Wanted to believe that Chandler was somehow telling the truth, though she knew that to be impossible.

She felt Rachel tighten her grip, sympathetically, pitying her, and Ross' indignant smugness dissipated as he dropped his hand to his side, the necklace still in it.

"I'm sorry, Monica," he sighed, noticing the slight anticipation in her expression and demeanor, "It's just a bauble."

"Well," Rachel corrected, "It's a little more than that." Pointing towards his hand, she informed, "That's 24k white gold, with a 2ct diamond, easy. That is not a cheap bauble."

As Monica reached for it, Ross handed it over, asking, "How could he afford that after buying that insanely expensive engagement ring? Data processing doesn't pay that well."

"He's not a data processor," Monica muttered as she fingered the delicate white gold chain attached to the snowflake pendant, "He does data reconfiguration and statistical factoring."

"What's the difference?" Joey asked.

As Monica shrugged, Rachel announced, "How much he gets paid, for one thing."

"Yeah," Monica agreed distantly, then closed her fingers around the elegant piece of jewelry before slipping it into her sweatshirt pocket.

"You ok, Mon?" Phoebe asked, concerned, and Monica nodded.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just, really tired. I didn't sleep much last night. I think it's finally catching up with me."

"Do you want us to leave? So you can get some rest?"

"Or, we can stay," Rachel added to Phoebe's offer, "If you would rather not be alone right now."

"No, it's ok," Monica assured them. "I don't need a babysitter. I'm fine. Just tired."

Ross nodded as he stepped towards the door, Joey following suit.

"We're right across the hall," Rachel reminded, giving Monica another hug. "If you need anything…"

"I know," she whispered, fighting against tears. "I just need to be alone for a little while, ok?"

Phoebe inched in closer, joining the hug, kissing Monica's hair. "It's all going to be ok," she promised, and Monica nodded weakly, holding on to the simple comment as if it were proven fact.

She saw them to the door, forcing a slight smile as she waved, trying to convey that she would be all right, and that they did not need to worry about her, though she knew they would anyway. And then she closed the door and locked it, sighing as she headed for her bedroom to lie down.

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--Though not easily, Monica finally drifted off into a fitful sleep, clutching the recent gift from Chandler in her hand so fiercely, it left indentations on her palm.

Her dreams bounced around, like brief clips from a TV show, containing real moments, absurd situations, and things she wished for to happen, all contributing to the restlessness that eventually woke her.

Sitting up, she groaned in frustration as she looked around the room, realizing a moment later that her hand and arm hurt from holding the pendant and necklace so tightly for so long.

She relaxed her hand, easing her fingers open, staring down as the stunning item came into view.

So many unanswered questions, and the gift she now held created more than it answered.

"Chandler," she whispered to the empty room, "I don't know where you are, but I know it's not here, where I want you to be. I want us to be able to talk this out. I want to work through, whatever it is that's made you do this. And say those things."

"And what's with this necklace?" she asked. "Who was that guy who gave it to me, and how did he get in and out so fast, without anyone seeing him? Why did he say that you would appear, if I rubbed the pendant? Cause Ross rubbed it, and nothing happened."

Almost as if audible, she heard the voice of the strange man, repeating the words he'd said to her… "If you need to see him, wear it around your neck, and rub the pendant."

Scowling, she mumbled, "That couldn't possibly make a difference, could it? What are you talking about," she admonished herself for her thoughts, "There's no way rubbing this pendant will make Chandler appear! Whether I'm wearing it or not."

It went beyond anything she knew as fact. There was no Santa Claus. There was no magic, other than illusion. There was no way the necklace she held in her hand was anything more than a necklace.

Still, something within her was drawing her to it, making her want to try and see, just to be certain. She let the chain dangle between her fingers for a moment, before unhooking the clasp and moving to hook it around her neck.

Staring down at the pendant, she could feel her heart beat faster, knowing it couldn't possibly work, but aware of the tiny shred of doubt growing wider, creating anticipation that was near palpable as she prepared to test her entire belief system.

With a shaky breath, she gingerly took the pendant into her grasp, then, hesitating only slightly, began to rub the snowflake with her thumb, repeating over and over again, in a whisper, "I only want to talk to you, Chandler."

She closed her eyes, almost as if praying, the same words falling from her lips, concentrating hard, as if she could will him to show up by focusing on the desire to see him again.

"I only want to talk to you, Chandler. I only want to talk to you, Chandler. I only want to-"

"I'm here."

Monica startled at the softly spoken words, her eyes flying open, staring in disbelief as he stood before her.

"Chandler?" she breathed, and he smiled at her in return.

Nothing else mattered in that moment, except the fact that he was there, in front of her, and without caring how it was possible, she jumped from the bed and threw herself into his arms.

TO BE CONTINUED…

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