Chandler came out of his room with glazed eyes and mussed hair.
Walking to the kitchen, he opened the cabinet and pulled out a box of Honey
Comb.
The other bedroom door opened and Joey stumbled out. "Mornin'," he said quietly.
"Morning, Joe," Chandler replied as he got out a bowl and spoon. "Cereal?"
"Nah, I think I'll make pancakes."
Chandler nodded, then stopped and turned to face his roommate who was just sitting on the barca lounger. "Uh, Joey?"
"Yeah."
"Just out of curiosity, why are you going to make pancakes?"
Joey looked towards his room, then back at Chandler sheepishly.
"Oh, I see."
"Aw, but she was hot!" Joey whined.
"So what happened?"
"Well, we were both at this club near the park, and she was crying over some boyfriend or something, and was saying how she needed someone kind and sensitive."
"And?"
Joey winked and smiled his Joey-smile. "And I'm sensitive."
Chandler rolled his eyes as he searched the refrigerator for milk. Pulling out a carton, he opened the top and poured it over the cereal. Chunks of curds came spilling out from the container, and he tipped it upright abruptly.
"Joey, what's with the milk?"
"The milk? What's wrong with it?" he replied, flipping through the channels on the television.
"It's chunky."
The barca lounger swiveled around, and Joey moaned. "Ah, man! I thought that was mayonnaise!" Slapping his hand over his mouth, he leapt up and dashed into the bathroom, slamming the door.
Snickering, Chandler dropped the carton in the trash and walked out the door. Maybe Monica had some extra milk.
Opening the door, he had a strong sense that something was wrong. Monica should have been up by now, fixing breakfast and getting ready for work. "Mon?" he called out softly. He checked on Emily and found her sleeping peacefully. Closing the door quietly, he walked across the apartment to the bathroom and knocked softly on the door. The shower was running, and steam was coming from under the door. Pounding on the door, he called her name again, and heard no response. The door was locked, and his panic was building. Finally he reared back and rammed the door with an almost inhuman force. His attempt was unsuccessful, and his shoulder was now throbbing. Unfazed, he slammed against it with more force. This time the door bent slightly and the lock popped.
The first thing he noticed was the steam that filled the room, immediately flattening his hair to his scalp. The second thing was Monica, and his heart broke. "Monica!" he called again as Paul came running in to the bedroom.
"What the hell happened?" he demanded.
Chandler turned to him with eyes of fire. Hatred swelled in his stomach, and he had to fight to keep his fists from firing. "You bastard," he growled. "You son of a BITCH! You did this to her!"
Paul stepped forward, but Chandler stopped him with his face. "You stay away from her, do you hear? Stay away, or I'll make sure you're in jail for this."
Paul looked at Chandler one more time, then back at Monica. Backing from the door, he turned and fled the apartment.
Chandler turned back to Monica's bare body, pulling her out of the shower by her arms and torso. "C'mon, Monica," he pled, then looked down, shocked, as bright red blood began spilling down her thighs. "Oh, God! Oh, God!" he yelled, then ran to the phone and punched in 911.
"911, what is your emergency?"
"It's Monica! She's bleeding!"
"Sir, please calm down. What is your name?"
"Chandler Bing. Please, you have to send an ambulance!"
"All right, Chandler, I'll need some information from you."
Chandler gave the operator the address.
"An ambulance will be there shortly."
Not even bothering to hang up, he threw the phone on the couch and snatched up the blanket on its top. Running back to Monica, he covered her with it, and put a towel under her head. As he lifted her hair from her eyes, she moaned softly and her eyelids fluttered. "Cha…" she trailed off, and her eyes shut again.
He looked at her, and tears spilled like rain. Looking towards the door of the apartment, he whispered only one word. "Hurry."
Within ten minutes, sirens could be heard faintly from a distance, and it wasn't long before three paramedics came rushing in the apartment. "Chandler Bing?" one of them asked.
"I'm Chandler," he replied, the worry evident in his eyes.
"What is the victim's name?"
Chandler's stomach lurched at the word victim, and he shut his eyes briefly. "Monica. Monica Gellar. She's twenty-eight years old, and I just found her in the shower like this."
"Where did these bruises and marks come from?"
Biting his lip, he forced his answer. "I can't be sure."
The EMT looked down at Monica's pale face, then back at his coworkers. "Okay, boys, let's hoist her up."
The other paramedics busied themselves with putting the headboard under Monica's body, and Chandler sank onto the couch tiredly.
Emily's door opened, and she came out tiredly, rubbing her eyes with one hand, and clutching Peeky, her old teddy bear. "Chandler? Where's Mommy?" Her eyes found the blanketed body, and tears spilled down her red cheeks. "Mommy!" she screamed, and ran towards the paramedics.
Chandler leapt up and threw his arms around Emily, who squirmed against him. "No! I want my Mommy! I want my Mommy!"
New tears filled his eyes, and he wept with her, still holding her tight against him. "Mommy has to go to the hospital now, Ems."
The paramedic team left with Monica, and the leader called back softly to Chandler. "Mr. Bing, she'll be at Beth Israel."
Emily pulled back from Chandler slightly to watch them leave, then turned back to him, her lips quivering with sobs. "Is…is Mommy going to die?"
Chandler pulled her almost violently to him, and she lay her head on his shoulder, and wept.
Left alone to wonder.
AN: I know this is short, and you'll have to forgive me, but life is so busy right now. I will update whenever I can, so keep checking back.
-Amberlynn
The other bedroom door opened and Joey stumbled out. "Mornin'," he said quietly.
"Morning, Joe," Chandler replied as he got out a bowl and spoon. "Cereal?"
"Nah, I think I'll make pancakes."
Chandler nodded, then stopped and turned to face his roommate who was just sitting on the barca lounger. "Uh, Joey?"
"Yeah."
"Just out of curiosity, why are you going to make pancakes?"
Joey looked towards his room, then back at Chandler sheepishly.
"Oh, I see."
"Aw, but she was hot!" Joey whined.
"So what happened?"
"Well, we were both at this club near the park, and she was crying over some boyfriend or something, and was saying how she needed someone kind and sensitive."
"And?"
Joey winked and smiled his Joey-smile. "And I'm sensitive."
Chandler rolled his eyes as he searched the refrigerator for milk. Pulling out a carton, he opened the top and poured it over the cereal. Chunks of curds came spilling out from the container, and he tipped it upright abruptly.
"Joey, what's with the milk?"
"The milk? What's wrong with it?" he replied, flipping through the channels on the television.
"It's chunky."
The barca lounger swiveled around, and Joey moaned. "Ah, man! I thought that was mayonnaise!" Slapping his hand over his mouth, he leapt up and dashed into the bathroom, slamming the door.
Snickering, Chandler dropped the carton in the trash and walked out the door. Maybe Monica had some extra milk.
Opening the door, he had a strong sense that something was wrong. Monica should have been up by now, fixing breakfast and getting ready for work. "Mon?" he called out softly. He checked on Emily and found her sleeping peacefully. Closing the door quietly, he walked across the apartment to the bathroom and knocked softly on the door. The shower was running, and steam was coming from under the door. Pounding on the door, he called her name again, and heard no response. The door was locked, and his panic was building. Finally he reared back and rammed the door with an almost inhuman force. His attempt was unsuccessful, and his shoulder was now throbbing. Unfazed, he slammed against it with more force. This time the door bent slightly and the lock popped.
The first thing he noticed was the steam that filled the room, immediately flattening his hair to his scalp. The second thing was Monica, and his heart broke. "Monica!" he called again as Paul came running in to the bedroom.
"What the hell happened?" he demanded.
Chandler turned to him with eyes of fire. Hatred swelled in his stomach, and he had to fight to keep his fists from firing. "You bastard," he growled. "You son of a BITCH! You did this to her!"
Paul stepped forward, but Chandler stopped him with his face. "You stay away from her, do you hear? Stay away, or I'll make sure you're in jail for this."
Paul looked at Chandler one more time, then back at Monica. Backing from the door, he turned and fled the apartment.
Chandler turned back to Monica's bare body, pulling her out of the shower by her arms and torso. "C'mon, Monica," he pled, then looked down, shocked, as bright red blood began spilling down her thighs. "Oh, God! Oh, God!" he yelled, then ran to the phone and punched in 911.
"911, what is your emergency?"
"It's Monica! She's bleeding!"
"Sir, please calm down. What is your name?"
"Chandler Bing. Please, you have to send an ambulance!"
"All right, Chandler, I'll need some information from you."
Chandler gave the operator the address.
"An ambulance will be there shortly."
Not even bothering to hang up, he threw the phone on the couch and snatched up the blanket on its top. Running back to Monica, he covered her with it, and put a towel under her head. As he lifted her hair from her eyes, she moaned softly and her eyelids fluttered. "Cha…" she trailed off, and her eyes shut again.
He looked at her, and tears spilled like rain. Looking towards the door of the apartment, he whispered only one word. "Hurry."
Within ten minutes, sirens could be heard faintly from a distance, and it wasn't long before three paramedics came rushing in the apartment. "Chandler Bing?" one of them asked.
"I'm Chandler," he replied, the worry evident in his eyes.
"What is the victim's name?"
Chandler's stomach lurched at the word victim, and he shut his eyes briefly. "Monica. Monica Gellar. She's twenty-eight years old, and I just found her in the shower like this."
"Where did these bruises and marks come from?"
Biting his lip, he forced his answer. "I can't be sure."
The EMT looked down at Monica's pale face, then back at his coworkers. "Okay, boys, let's hoist her up."
The other paramedics busied themselves with putting the headboard under Monica's body, and Chandler sank onto the couch tiredly.
Emily's door opened, and she came out tiredly, rubbing her eyes with one hand, and clutching Peeky, her old teddy bear. "Chandler? Where's Mommy?" Her eyes found the blanketed body, and tears spilled down her red cheeks. "Mommy!" she screamed, and ran towards the paramedics.
Chandler leapt up and threw his arms around Emily, who squirmed against him. "No! I want my Mommy! I want my Mommy!"
New tears filled his eyes, and he wept with her, still holding her tight against him. "Mommy has to go to the hospital now, Ems."
The paramedic team left with Monica, and the leader called back softly to Chandler. "Mr. Bing, she'll be at Beth Israel."
Emily pulled back from Chandler slightly to watch them leave, then turned back to him, her lips quivering with sobs. "Is…is Mommy going to die?"
Chandler pulled her almost violently to him, and she lay her head on his shoulder, and wept.
Left alone to wonder.
AN: I know this is short, and you'll have to forgive me, but life is so busy right now. I will update whenever I can, so keep checking back.
-Amberlynn