Every Time

Chapter Thirteen: Every Time

A/N: Well, this is the end. The finale. The last chapter. [laughs evilly]

I have to take this opportunity to thank the following: Pie, Monnie and Jana, who all proofed various chapters of this story. Becca, who gave her opinion on various scenes at my request. And to anyone, anyone, who reviewed this story. I'm so glad you enjoyed it, and I hope that this chapter doesn't let you down. I hope I've done it well. It is, after all, the first story I've ever finished (with the exception of my sucky four-chapter songfic.) Please review, and tell me if I ended it well.

*~*~*

Pete stood in the gateway, the door of a sleek black limo behind him, and a look of amazement on his face.

"What in hell is going on?" he asked incredulously, moving toward the couple, rain still beating down on them all. He stared at Chandler for a second, bewilderment in his dark eyes, then his gaze skipped to Monica, and the hurt in his eyes made her stomach lurch in fear.

Neither of them spoke. Chandler felt a raindrop trickle down the back of his neck, but he didn't move.

Pete stared intently at Monica, but she did not dare look back. She didn't know what to do, what to say. She tried to use her brain to manufacture an excuse, an explanation, anything; but it had apparently stopped working.

Pete's frozen body suddenly swung into movement, with a strong punch directly in the center of Chandler's face. His hand slipped slightly with all the water covering Chandler's face, but it still made Chandler's nose make a loud cracking noise, and Chandler bent in pain, holding a hand weakly to his face.

Monica bent down with him, still not giving Pete a glance, and pried Chandler's hand easily away, and gasping at the bloody nose Chandler now had.

She took off her coat and put it over his head to protect him from the rain, and handed him a tissue to stem the bleeding.

Then she turned to Pete.

"Pete, I-"

"You know what," he interrupted, "He deserves everything he gets," he said viciously, and kneed Chandler in the stomach.

"Ow," wheezed Chandler, as Monica gasped again.

"Pete, I thought we could talk about this, but if you're just going to do that, then it's over," she said shortly. "I was unsure that there was anything left to salvage in our marriage- now it's obvious there isn't." She turned and bent down to aid Chandler again, but Pete pulled her back up, and shocked her by pulling her into a kiss.

She wrenched her lips away, glad the rain was washing her lips clean again. "What do you think you're doing?" she asked indignantly, staring at him.

"My right- kissing my wife," he answered shortly. His expression softened. "Monica, I don't understand… where did all this come from? What, have you been… been having an affair with him or something?" he asked, without even looking to Chandler.

"I… no," she answered. "Look, Pete, our marriage was nothing. You were always at work, and what did I get? All you seemed to want me for was prettying up your arm at parties, and sex, sex, sex. Does that sound like a marriage to you, Pete?" she asked. "Because it sure as hell doesn't to me."

Pete stared at her, trying to see past the obvious distress and distrust she had when she looked at him, but he couldn't. He refused to think that that was all that was there. He knew something had to be there.

"Well?" she prompted.

Pete sighed. "Look, I know I wasn't the most attentive," he admitted. "But I work, Monica, and you knew that. You always did."

"I didn't know you worked this much!" she exclaimed. "I figured that one or two days a week, you wouldn't be around, maybe. And fine, I thought. But you're away about five, six days, and even on the others, you always work in your study. And then like, every night, you come to bed at about midnight, and expect me to have sex with you, even if I'm asleep? I hardly think that that is a good marriage."

Pete paused. "I didn't ask for sex every night," he said quietly.

She sighed. "Pete, it just doesn't work any more," she said. "I can't do this any more. I can't just be there, when you want me. I can't just be your woman, who you parade when you want, or otherwise shove out of sight. I can't. I just can't."

"Why not?" he pleaded. "Monica, why is this happening? Why now?"

She sighed. "Look, it's too complicated. But things change, Pete. You've changed, I've changed… and if it doesn't work when that happens, then what's the point? If it was meant to be, Pete, we'd be able to cope with changes. But we can't. I can't."

"But why him?" he asked, gesturing in Chandler's direction.

Monica stared at him. "He's my friend," she answered simply. "He understands me. He knows me better than anyone. He's always there when I need him, when I want him. To talk to, to listen to. To laugh with, to cry with. With him, I can be myself. Even when we were together happily, it was hard for me sometimes, Pete," she said softly. "I had to work hard, when with him… it's simple. It's easy. And I know that it can work, because it feels right," she said, her expression softening.

She started to turn away, but Pete held her sleeve, and she turned back.

"Did you ever love me?" he asked softly. She saw the tear in his eye.

"Yes," she answered truthfully. "I did. But not now."

He swallowed. "Are you in love with him?" he asked, motioning at the still crippled Chandler.

She stared into his eyes, and for the first time, she felt not hate or anger, or distrust in her eyes, and Pete saw none, either.

"Yes," she answered softly, and turned away.

She bent down again to Chandler, and kissed him on the forehead. He pointed at Pete, and Monica watched as Pete walked slowly back to the limo.

He paused before he got in, glancing one more time at his wife and her best friend on the grass in the park, still getting soaked by the rain from above.

"Good luck," he shouted, and shut the door behind him, the limo speeding away down the street.

As the limo vanished, Monica looked out onto the horizon, visible down the long street she had stood on waiting for Pete to arrive in the first place. A tinge of sunlight could be seen under the widening clouds, and above, the rain lessened, but it still trickled over Monica's exposed arm, her coat covering Chandler's head.

"Chandler?" she said. "Are you okay?" she asked concernedly, lightly pushing up his chin and seeing his eyes staring at her.

"Yes," he whispered, and pressed his lips against hers, keeping her body where it was, holding her with soaked hands; and she closed her eyes, feeling his soft touch caress her lips, being able to fully enjoy, savor and memorize his kiss, unhindered by guilt.

She was free.

As he broke away, she said something soft and incomprehensible, slowly opening her eyes.

"Is it over?" he whispered, his forehead touching hers, their eyes in close proximation, the deep blues of their eyes bewitching the other.

"Yes," she said, and softly touched his lips again with hers. "It is." She pulled away, pulling the tissue from his nose. "God, it's really bleeding. We'd better stop it, or you'll lose loads of blood," she said concernedly, helping him up.

"Okay," he said. "But we can go home after, right?" he asked. "I'm sick of Paris."

"Me too," she admitted, slipping her hand into his as she helped him along.

*~*~*

"Ow."

"Sorry."

Chandler winced again as the cotton bud made contact with his nose, slowly stopping the blood flow. About ten discarded bloody buds lay beside them in the trashcan.

Monica leant in to look more closely. "Okay, I think it's stopped… oh, no it hasn't," she observed, grabbing another bud and holding to his nose. He winced. "Look, I'm helping you here. Can you try and stay still?" she asked, smiling despite herself.

"Sorry," he said, smiling back. "But, hey, it's not exactly my fault my nose got bashed in," he said.

Monica dabbed at his nose. "Well, no one made you fly here," she said, smiling again.

"That's not true," he said immediately. "And besides… are you complaining?" he asked, smiling, his head bent to the side.

"Not in the slightest," she answered softly, kissing him again. "Oh, y'know," she said, resting her forehead against his, "I could do this all day."

"Yeah?" he said, smiling at her. "Well, be my guest," he said, and pulled her head forward, capturing her lips in a tender kiss, their lips sliding perfectly into each other. He ran his hands through her hair lightly as she kissed him again, smiling under her lips.

She breathed deeply as he moved away, taking hold of the cotton bud from her delicate hand. He touched his nose, but no blood came onto his hand.

"Look," he said, and she looked up, then down at his direction. "No blood."

She smiled. "That's good," she said, giggling at his expression after her obvious statement.

He leant forward, his lips brushing his cheeks as he moved his mouth to her ear. "Can we go home now?" he whispered.

*~*~*

"Look, there they are, there they are!"

Phoebe pointed into the distance at the escalator, a crowd of buzzing people descending it. Light shone in through the huge glass wall at the side, planes moving around on the runways outside. Sun bounced off the metal sides of the stairways and escalators, filling the room with beautiful light.

Phoebe ran forward, followed by the three others, pointing excitedly as she saw Monica and Chandler moving down the escalator, smiling happily at each other. As they stepped off, they saw Phoebe, and Chandler grinned at her.

"Pheebs!" he called, as she ran over, bouncing into his outstretched arms. "Woah!" he said, as he bent backwards under her excitement. "How are you?" he asked, kissing her cheek as they pulled apart.

She smiled. "Never mind me, how are you?" she asked, grinning as she saw Monica's hand entwined with his.

"Great," they answered in unison, laughing as they heard themselves.

The others reached them, Rachel and Ross also hand in hand.

"Hey man," said Joey, hugging Chandler quickly, and kissing Monica on the cheek. "I see things are good for you two," he said, smiling.

Rachel hugged Monica, whispering something in her ear, which made Monica laugh. Rachel pulled away and hugged Chandler, whispering a "congratulations" into his ear. He smiled back, which dropped when he saw Ross' silent face.

"Ross," Rachel whispered pointedly.

Ross moved forward, making Chandler swallow involuntarily. Ross' face came nearer, and Chandler leant back in fear.

"Welcome back, man," said Ross, smiling and winking at him, pulling him into a hug. Chandler sighed in relief, and patted Ross on the back.

"I was really scared then, y'know," he said, and Ross winked at him again.

Monica smiled at the moment, and leaned in to give her brother a hug after he pulled away from Chandler.

"Are you alright?" he asked in her ear.

"I'm fine," she answered. "Thanks for being okay," she said, as the others started talking nearby.

Ross smiled at her. "He loves you," he said. "Do you love him?" he asked.

"I do," she answered, smiling over at Chandler, who was grinning widely as Phoebe chattered away. "I really do."

"Good," he said, kissing her cheek. He took hold of the bags she had put down beside her. "Want me to carry these?" he asked.

"Thanks," she said. "Now, can we go?" she said, making the others look around.

"Definitely," said Chandler, picking up his bags and kissing her quickly.

The others followed Ross and Chandler, walking slowly through the crowd with the bags in hand.

"Y'know," said Ross suddenly, "I never liked Pete anyway."

Everyone snorted.

*~*~*

"Look, I can't get the door open…"

"Mmm… do I have to stop?"

It was dark outside, the hall flooded with dull light from the lamps on the wall, electric lights of the city twinkling through the window. In the otherwise deserted hallway, Monica struggled to keep hold of the bags as Chandler kissed her neck affectionately.

She tried to fiddle with the lock, smiling as he moved his lips to her mouth.

"Got it," she murmured, and they made their way slowly through the door, still kissing. She slammed the door behind them, and dropped the bags, wrapping her arms around his neck.

She swayed with him as he rocked her back and forward, still pressing his lips firmly against hers. She saw it was dark, but the light from outside lit the room up slightly, and cast romantic shadows over his face, smiling down at her.

She looked around as he took the bags into her old bedroom, kicking the door open with his foot.

Her heart leapt with happiness at being back in this apartment; it was her home. She felt bad she'd ever left. Everything looked so wonderful to her eye.

She pushed the window open and clambered out, pulling her coat around herself as the wind picked up, flushing her cheeks. Her hands rested on the edge of the balcony, looking out to the city, buzzing with life as the night began. She spotted Ross sitting on his couch, apparently engrossed in a wildlife documentary, and she smiled.

She heard movement behind her, and smiled as Chandler clambered out after her, zipping his coat up as he felt the cold.

"What're you doing out here?" he asked, as he wrapped his arms around her, kissing her hair softly.

"Just… looking," she answered, her heart beating faster as she felt his hands on her waist, pulling her body nearer.

"Okay," he whispered, brushing his lips against her ear. "Wanna go inside?" he asked, and she smiled at him.

"I'll be in in a minute," she answered, kissing him passionately as he began to turn away. Her touch lingered on his lips, and he walked back inside, taking up a bunch of candles from a cupboard, and disappearing into the kitchen.

She looked out again onto the city, watching the lights of tall blocks twinkle at her. She smiled.

Everything had worked out for her. For them. She had never believed that she would have been here, with him, happy… but she was.

She smiled, pulled her coat around her, and made her way inside.

Every time she saw his face, her heart beamed. Every time, she had to smile. Every time, she had to love him.

Every time.