Writings on the Wall – Chapter 4
A/N: Okay, this chapter is probably not as interesting, but I need to set up some things so bare with me. Anyway, I'm on a very awesome [natural] high right now, so yay! First time I've been really happy since I went back to school and found out I have one week, instead of 2 1/2 to write a 10-page research paper. A-whoo-hoo! Don't teachers just rock your socks?! =-x
Disclaimer: No, this characters not mine. That'd be cool if they were though. I could really go for marrying Chandler...well, Matty b/c Chandler's not real. :p Then, of course, I'd have enough money to buy Orlando Bloom, as well, and then me, Matty, Yen, and Orlando could go out on double dates and Yen and I could get pregnant with their children together (I mean separate, but at the same time!) and then we could exchange stories about how we're gold diggers and our husbands are cradle-robbing pervs. Ya, I don't own that line, either. =/
Chandler rolled onto his side in his sleep, tucked comfortably in between the blankets on his bed. It was still dark out, but that didn't matter. He wouldn't be waking up for another two precious hours. The rain hit the roof rhythmically. Chandler was unaware of it all. Suddenly, a pebble hit his window. The soft sound was not enough to wake the peacefully dreaming Chandler. Another pebble hit the window, louder this time. The rain still blocked out the noise. though. Then, the pebbles began to hit the window at a fast pace, each bigger and louder than the one before it. Finally, Chandler sat up in bed, confused and unaware of what was happening.
The pebbles continued to hit the window. Chandler yawned and groggily made his way to the window, thinking it was one of his friends playing a joke on him. When he looked out into the dark, he couldn't see anything. The pebbles continued to hit his window. He looked all around through the glass and the rain, straining to see who was outside of his window.
After a minute, the pebbles stopped hitting his window. Chandler opened it and looked through the screen. He could feel the dampness of the rainy dawn. Only by the soft orange light of the dawn, was he able to make out a figure, pacing up and down his lawn.
"Hey," he called out, "What are you doing here?" The person turned around and faced him. He did a double take. "Monica?"
"Yeah," she called meekly.
"What are you – hold on, go to the front door."
He ran down the stairs, unlocked the door, opened it, and looked outside. She slowly rounded the corner and made her way to the door.
"Come on, let's go inside," he coaxed, "You're gonna get sick out here!"
She entered timidly, and he was able to tell just how wet she had gotten. Her clothes were soaked through, and her hair was matted to her face. He led her upstairs, handed her a towel, sweatpants, t-shirt, and a sweatshirt, before showing her where the bathroom was.
As he waited, he began to pace the length of his bedroom. What was she doing at his house at 4 am? It was strange. Really strange. They had only spoken to each other twice, not to mention how angry her boyfriend had seemed the first time. All remnants of sleep had left him now. He felt more awake than he had in a long time.
When she entered his room, he stopped pacing and looked at her curiously. She looked down at her feet, as tears began to stream down her face. Chandler stared at her for a few moments. He wasn't good with girls; especially not crying ones. Still, he couldn't just stand by idly as she cried. So, he approached her and wrapped his arms around her uncomfortably. She immediately buried her face in his shoulder and let out a sob. He pulled her closer to her and rubbed circles around her back.
After a minute, she pulled away from him and blushed a deep crimson shade. He stared at her with the same curious look as before. She took in a shaky breath.
"I'm sorry about that…"
"No problem."
"So, I guess you wanna know why I'm here?"
"Kinda."
"I'm sorry to wake you up."
"No, it's okay. I'm just worried."
"Okay, well you probably won't believe me and maybe you're not the right person to tell, but I just have this feeling I should…"
"Umm, okay. Well, uh, what is it?"
"Okay, well all these really weird things have been happening to me. Like at the church…"
"Right?"
"I had this dream last night…and I don't know, maybe it's just my mind trying to come up with an excuse, but I saw it."
"Saw…what?"
"I saw her. Phoebe."
"What?"
"I was her."
"If this is your idea of some kind of practical joke…"
"No, I'm dead serious! I was her! I saw it! She was in the park, sitting under the tree… it was empty, she was trying to write. I felt the knife on the back of my neck, Chandler."
Chandler stared at her, a stony look on his face. He ran a finger through his hair.
"I knew I shouldn't have told you. I just thought that since you knew Phoebe and…and…all that…never mind."
She turned around and headed for the door.
"She was writing?" he asked quietly.
Monica faced him again. "Yeah."
"I'm glad she was doing what she loved to do."
"She loved to write?"
Chandler nodded hesitantly and sat down on his bed.
"What did she write?"
"Songs, mostly. Sometimes poems. They were a little, uh, out there sometimes. Once in a while she would write something really beautiful. Otherwise, I would just pretend I thought they were great."
Monica smiled and sat down beside him.
"I've never really talked about her – when she was alive, or not."
"Why not?"
"Well, when she was alive, everyone thought I was crazy for dating her. We were so…different, outwardly. Ya know, she was deep and strange and opinionated, and I was the one always cracking jokes and…writing fake girls' phone numbers on the walls in front of the urinals."
Monica laughed, "That was you?! Ross keeps complaining about the guy who does that! He says it makes him feel uncomfortable."
Chandler tried to keep from laughing, "Sorry about that."
"No, I think it's hilarious!"
They laughed together for a few moments, before sobering. They looked at each other, remembering the previous topic. Chandler was about to continue, when they were interrupted by a knock on the door.
"Chandler? Are you awake? Is someone in there?"
Monica looked towards Chandler, panicked about his mother's reaction to her presence at such an early time. He shook his head and dismissed it with a wave of his hand.
"Yeah, mom."
"Yeah what?"
"I'm wake."
"Well, obviously! Who's in there?!"
"No one."
"Is it a girl? Oh no," she paused, "Please tell me it's a girl, Chandler!"
Chandler audibly sighed and blushed, "Yes, mom, it's a girl."
Nora opened the door and smiled as she noticed Monica. "Well, hi there. Monica, correct?"
Monica nodded and blushed.
Nora grinned at Monica and then turned her attention towards her son.
"Don't worry, Chandler. She's always welcome here! You don't have to hide her."
"Wait, mom, she's not –"
"It's okay! I don't mind!"
"Mrs. Bing, I really –"
"What did I say you should call me last time?" she reprehended lightly.
Monica looked down, swallowing her words slightly, "Nora, we're not dating."
"Oh, you two kids don't need to hide it! I'm all for it! Especially after that Phoebe girl."
Both Chandler and Monica cringed at the mention of her name.
"You're just…a breath of fresh air, compared to her. Yes, that's it," Nora turned around and opened the door again, "Well, I'll leave you two alone."
"Yeah," Monica mumbled under her breath, "You stupid bitch."
Nora turned around again and slowly focused upon Monica. Chandler's faced paled.
"What?" she asked slowly.
Monica looked towards Nora and then to Chandler, a petrified look on her face and whispered, "What?"
"Mom, she just said, 'yeah, that stupid bitch' about Phoebe."
"Oh, okay," Nora sighed, "Well, I still have another hour to sleep. You kids have fun!"
Chandler forced a laugh, "We will."
After she left, Chandler sighed and lay down on his bed. "Sorry about her. She's crazy sometimes."
Monica laughed, "That's okay, so is my mom."
"Yeah, I kinda remember."
They laughed again, but it quickly faded into an awkward silence.
"So, what were we, umm, saying before? About you and Phoebe?"
"Yeah, so, uh, I don't know…something about her drew me in. I guess maybe I was, ya know, lying to myself about who I really was."
Monica tilted her head, "Or maybe you're a little of both."
"What?"
"You like to joke, but you also like to be serious. It's just that everyone always knows when you joke. People just don't know when you're serious, and that's probably what bothers you."
Chandler nodded. "Yeah…I think so."
He studied her for a few moments. She seemed genuine. But he still wasn't positive…
"Maybe you should let people see the sensitive side of you sometimes?" she continued.
"Ya know," Chandler cleared his throat, "It's almost 6 A.M. I can drive you home, if you want…we have to get to school in an hour."
Monica shook her head. "I can't go home! My mom'll kill me!"
"Well, won't she already be mad at you for leaving, anyway?"
"Of course. But this way, I won't have to get in trouble until after school."
"What? That's crazy!"
"Well…I left her a note."
Chandler chuckled and shook his head. Monica smiled and he noted the soft dimples on her cheeks. He had never noticed them before.
"Well, you'll have to go to school in my clothes. I don't think there's enough time to do the laundry…especially since I don't know how."
She looked down. "Oh, right. I forgot about that. Oh well. I'll just wear them, if you don't mind."
"No, I mean it's okay with me…but what about your, ya know, boyfriend?"
"John? Urgh, I don't care. I'm mad at him, anyway."
"Really?" Chandler cleared his throat, "Uh, why?"
"Well, when I told him there was something wrong with me, he just, he didn't really seem to care."
"Oh, so you told him about the…dream?" Chandler responded, trying not to sound hurt. He thought she had reserved that secret for only him.
"No, it was before the dream. I just knew something weird was going on. He told me it was probably just stress. Of course, I did interrupt him during a game, but still…"
"I believe you."
Monica looked over at him, mild surprise showing on her face. Up until then, she wasn't sure if Chandler believed her, or was merely pacifying her. "Really?"
"Yeah, I really do."
"So, you'll help me figure this out?"
"Of course."
Off Monica's unconvinced look, he held out his hand. After a moment's hesitation, Monica grasped it lightly and shook it.
"I think we can both help each other," he whispered.
"How?"
He shrugged. "I could use a friend."
Monica smiled slightly, "So could I."
A/N: Yen, I mentioned you this time. We even? ;) Oy, I still have to e-mail you! Well, I should get ready to go to sleep, too. Another big day ahead of me, full of a double period of physics/lab day and English class peer-editing fun. Then, I get to go to the library, take out MORE books on James Joyce, and have a research paper partay this weekend! Could my life BE any better? =p Okay, I'll stop complaining…in exchange for some nice reviews. ;)