Every Time

Chapter Eleven: Phase One

Disclaimer: "I own them." Ha, I wish.

A/N: Okay, so I tried my best to get this done, on top of my building workload in school. Especially with those damn exams coming up. I hope to finish this story before I start them- only a few more chapters to go. Thanks so much for all the great reviews- they really make me feel more positive about the story, and inspire me to get it done quicker. So, keep 'em coming!

Thanks to Amber for pointing out my tiny mistake… but as she said, it fits, so it's staying. Of course, it has nothing to do with how lazy I am… Oh, and Heather, you scare me. In a good way, of course. ;) And thanks to BrightBrownEyes, who I think gave me a compliment. ;)

*~*~*

Chandler shifted his position slightly, moving his sweatpants over the leather of the recliner, making it squeak. In the dull light of the room, the chairs looked black, and the floor was a sea of fog, dangerous to enter. Chandler shivered, grabbing the blanket from behind his head and wrapping it around himself tightly, the wool rubbing against his face roughly.

The lights suddenly shattered through his closed eyelids, and he squinted, seeing the rough shape of someone by the door. He heard the fridge open, and instantly knew it was Joey.

In a futile attempt to hide, Chandler pulled the blanket over his head, internally groaning as he heard the fridge slam shut.

"Dude," said Joey loudly, and Chandler found the blanket whipped away in seconds; to be confronted with Joey's confused face. "What are you doin- oh."

He took one look at Chandler's sweatpants and sighed, pushing the barcalounger around so it faced its sister, where Joey sat down.

"Chandler… I know you're upset about Moni-"

"Upset?" Chandler echoed. "I'm not upset," he said, turning his chair away, only to find Joey swing it back again.

"Well, fine," Joey said in annoyance, standing up. "You don't want me to help, I won't," he said angrily, moving to his door and slamming it.

Chandler stared at the closed door, wondering why Joey had got upset so quickly, but his thoughts moved immediately to Monica.

Monica, who was in Paris.

Monica, who was in Paris with Pete.

Monica, who was in Paris with Pete, having the time of her life.

Monica, who Chandler loved more than anything that breathed in the same air, the same air that Chandler felt had turned on him.

He pulled the blanket over his head again, slid down into the chair, and tried to fall asleep, Monica's face floating in front of him tauntingly.

*~*~*

Monica stared out of the large window, watching as the sun rose above the building opposite. It shone a golden yellow, bouncing off the raindrops that lay on the slated roof.

The raindrops falling lightly before the glowing sun reminded her of tears, and she felt them running down her cheeks.

Only two days ago she had been in New York, watching the sunrise. The same, golden, glowing sunrise.

But now she was in Paris. Fashionable, chic, glorious Paris. But it was not her home.

She heard Pete groan as he tried to sit up, and she looked over, still getting a shock as she saw the giant bed of the hotel again. She found herself ashamed of taking advantage of its size, sleeping as far away from Pete as she could, wanting to sleep alone.

Still.

Maybe it was because of her dreams of Chandler, of talking with Chandler. Apparently, she talked in her sleep. Chandler had told her. He'd also informed her how cute he found it.

She sighed, and stared out of the window again, watching as the rain pattered off the glass, raindrops falling effortlessly into one another and trickling down to the bottom of the windowpane.

"Honey," grunted Pete, and Monica looked around. "Come back to bed," he said, smiling gently at her.

Monica sighed internally, but smiled back. "No, I'm okay here," she said, pointing outside. "Watching the sunrise."

Pete smiled wider. "Come on," he insisted. "Morning's when I'm at my best, remember?" he said suggestively.

Monica inhaled, and looked away briefly, rolling her eyes. "No… I'm not really in the mood," she said again, hoping he finally got the point.

He pulled the covers off himself and walked over, smiling at her more. She looked out the window, and groaned silently as he started kissing her neck.

She pulled away. "I said no, Pete!" she yelled, flinging her arm back. "Will you just leave me?"

Pete moved away, shocked. "I'm… I'm sorry," he said weakly, rubbing her back, but she just flinched away again. He retreated away, closing the door to the ensuite bathroom a little too hard.

Monica sunk into the cushions on the chair she sat on, watching the sun glint bewitchingly in the rising sunlight.

*~*~*

Phoebe paused before opening the door, and, after a moment's consideration, raised her hand to knock gently at the dark green door.

She waited, hearing movement inside, and a moment later, Chandler's sad face appeared around the door.

"Oh, hi Pheebs," he said, opening the door wider.

She groaned as she saw his sweatpants. "Chandler… aren't you ever gonna get out of phase 1?" she asked, flinging her bag onto the foosball table and following him back over to the lounge chairs.

Chandler rolled his eyes as he pulled the blanket over him again. "Please, god, not you too. I've already had enough of that off him," he said, jerking his head toward Joey's room, from where music was emanating. 

Phoebe sighed, pulling her feet up onto the chairs. "Okay, fine. We won't talk about that," she said kindly, rubbing his knee supportively. "So what do you wanna do?" she asked, sitting forward.

Chandler considered. "TV?" he suggested.

"Okay!" Phoebe grinned, jumping up to grab the remote from the cupboard at the side of the TV. She flicked it on, and the unit opened, the screen already alive and giving off sound.

"Ooh, it's Xanadu!" she squealed, turning her chair excitedly.

Chandler groaned, and Phoebe turned back. "What?" she said cluelessly.

"Phoebe, we watch this EVERY time we're at your place… do you never wonder why we don't come round often?" he asked.

Phoebe looked down. "Oh. Well, in my defence, it is a great movie," she said. "But I guess we could watch something else," she said.

Chandler grabbed the remote from her hands, and pressed the off button. "I don't feel like watching TV," he said, turning his chair away.

Phoebe sighed, humming a tune absently to herself. "Well, what do you want to do then?" she asked.

"Nothing," Chandler asked truthfully, sliding back down into the chair.

Phoebe pulled him back up with surprising strength into a sitting position. "Chandler, you can't just stay here in your sweatpants and cry about Monica," she said, with more compassion in her voice than either would have expected. "I don't want you to get like this again," she said, moving away slightly. "Come on," she said, pulling him out of the chair so he crashed onto the floor.

"Wh- Where are we going?" he asked, holding the coat she thrust at him confusedly.

She turned as she opened the door. "We're going to get you past phase one," she answered.

"Wait," he said, as she pulled him out the door. "Pheebs… I don't think I'll ever get past phase one."

*~*~*

Monica barely heard the knock over the sound of the shower, but the call after reassured her that she wasn't hearing things.

"I'm coming!" she yelled, running over to the door and opening it. "Oh," she said, as the butler smiled at her, a large breakfast tray in hand.

"Room service, ordered by a Mr. Peter Becker," he said, putting it into Monica's outstretched arms. She stared at the syrup squeezed perfectly on the crisp golden waffles, and sighed.

She stumbled over to the table by the window, putting it down, and headed back over to the door. She scrambled in her pocket for her purse, pulling out 50 francs and handing it to him. He smiled, but she couldn't tell whether it was genuine. She never knew how much to tip; especially not now she had to use a different currency. Either way, the butler left.

She waited for Pete to emerge, knowing that he'd want to hear her thanks before she ate it.

If she'd been at home with Chandler, then they would have already been devouring it together, laughing as they tried to be the first to finish, both insisting their speedy eating was due to Joey arriving at any second. But Monica loved seeing Chandler's grinning face, his cheeks bulging with toast, crumbs falling onto the plate as he laughed at her attempt to drink her juice in one go.

She sat down in the window seat again, curling her legs up, and watched the rain fall harder onto the street, the thumping drops steaming up the window.

She tried to block out the questions that had prevented her from getting to sleep last night, but she saw Chandler's face forming in the clouds in the distance, as she cleared the mist from the window.

Why had she come here? She was just more miserable than she had been before. She'd had a life, a job, friends… and now all she had was Pete.

And all the time she was with Pete, she spent thinking about Chandler.

She slid down into the chair, and put her hands over her face, trying to hide away from the world outside.

*~*~*

Rachel waved her hands frantically in the air, trying to direct the billowing smoke out of the tiny kitchen window. The saucepan rattled on the stove, and Rachel put her hands on her head in frustration.

"Ugh! Monica, you could have taught me how to cook before you left!" she groaned, and jumped as the phone started to ring, piercing the air over the saucepan's continued rattling sounds.

Rachel raced over to the phone, grabbing it and hooking it under her head, trying to push the smoke away with both hands. "Hello?" she said loudly, trying to hear over the clattering behind her.

"Rachel?" came a distant sounding voice. "What's that noise?"

"Monica!" she cried desperately. "Something's gone… kinda wrong in the kitchen," she said, trying to grab the handle of the saucepan. "Ow!" she yelped as her finger met the hot metal body.

"What was that?" yelled Monica.

Rachel sucked her finger in pain. "I hit the metal of the hot saucepan," she explained. "Mon, why is it rattling so much?" she asked.

"What were you trying to cook?" asked Monica loudly.

Rachel sighed. "Spaghetti," she answered.

Monica gave a short laugh, but concealed it with a cough. "Sorry," she said. "Just turn off the stove," she said, and Rachel did so.

"Yeah, it's still rattling, Mon," she said.

"Leave it, and it'll calm down," she said. Rachel heard the noise decrease, and cheered.

"Thanks Mon," she said happily. "What are you calling for, anyway?" she asked. "Is everything alright?" she asked.

Monica sighed. "Yeah… yeah, everything's great," she lied. "I was just calling to see how you all are," she said.

"I'm okay," said Rachel, leaning back on the couch. "I mean, it's a bit lonely hanging out without you, but I'll be okay. Ross is really busy; I don't think he's had time to miss you. But he's been sleeping here every night… he says it's just so I won't be alone, but you know guys…" she said, and Monica laughed.

"How's Phoebe?" she asked.

"She's good… she's been hanging out with Chandler a lot. I think he and Joey have had some kind of fight," she said.

Monica inhaled. "Oh. How are they otherwise?"

"Well, Joey's… Joey. He's missing you, but everyone is, really. And Chandler…" she trailed off.

"Yes?" Monica said immediately.

Rachel paused, thinking of Pete. What good would knowing the truth do Monica? It would only hurt and confuse her.

"He's… doing great," she lied. "He got a pay rise," she said.

"Oh," said Monica. "Well, tell him congratulations," she said, her voice breaking slightly. "Look, I've gotta go, so tell everyone I love them," she said.

"I will," said Rachel, and heard the tone as the phone was put down.

*~*~*

"Chandler, I'm telling you. She's obviously missing you like crazy."

Rachel and Phoebe stood above a slumped Chandler. He was still wearing his sweatpants, and the blanket he had wrapped himself in for the past week still lay behind his head.

"No, she's not," he insisted. "She's in Paris- why would she miss me? She's in Paris, with Pete, probably enjoying spending thousands on clothes. I'm just a tiny memory by now," he said, grabbing his beer from the table beside him and drinking half if it in one go.

Phoebe grabbed it out of his hand and put it over on the counter.

"Hey!" he moaned.

She put her face nearer his. "Chandler… you know she misses you. And you miss her. It's so obvious, a squirrel could see it," she said.

Chandler sighed. "Alright," he said. "Can you prove this? Did she say so?" he asked Rachel.

"Er… no. Not exactly," she admitted. "But… but you could tell!" she insisted, as Chandler rolled his eyes and got up to get his drink again.

Chandler sat down again. "Forget it," he said. "It's pointless. And besides, what do you expect me to do? Fly out there and bring her back? Because I don't think Pete would like that very much," he said.

Suddenly, Joey's door burst open, and everyone whipped around.

"For God's sake, Chandler!" Joey yelled. "Just go! She loves you, it's so obvious, and you're a fool if you don't!" he said.

Chandler stared at him, while Phoebe moved over to him.

"What?" she said.

Joey sighed. "Look, I went over there when she was packing. And when she thought I'd gone, I saw her put your photo in her pocket," he said.

"So?" asked Chandler. "She could have had one of every one of you," he pointed out.

Joey groaned. "She DIDN'T," he insisted. "Now, please, Chandler. Will you go?"