Waiting – Chapter 9

Out the Door

A/N: Wow, thanks for the great responses on the last chapter!  I guess you're all rooting for Monica and Chandler to get together – why hadn't I thought of that before?! :p One thing though: Yennifer Ann Perry, you are a pervert!! Unfortunately, I don't think you'll be quite as excited about this particular chapter, but this fanfic is almost over, so just stick with it, will ya? :)

Chandler dressed slowly, sneaking glances at Monica as she fixed her hair and makeup with intricate precision. She was being incredibly careful to cover up any sign of the previous two hours. He bent down to tie his shoes. Was that a sign of what was to come? Would this day mean absolutely nothing? Chandler glanced at Monica from his squatting position. She noticed him looking, and turned away.

'It doesn't matter all that much, anyway,' Chandler told himself as he straightened, 'This wasn't – anything.' Why would Monica go for him, anyway? She was the queen and he was the joker. Could it be embarrassment?

He noticed, in the corner of his eye, that she was now, in turn, watching him. He turned slowly and attempted his best at a smile. It was a pathetic attempt though, and he quickly resumed his previous frown.  He fumbled to find words, in fear that he would say the wrong thing – come off too desperate. She did not speak either and he idly wondered whether she was afraid of something, too. But then again, perhaps she was just afraid of hurting him.

"So…" Chandler began, breaking the awkward silence but making no obvious move to start a conversation.

"So…" she repeated, pausing emphatically, "You should really go – you know?"

He suddenly remembered her confession – the boyfriend – and his silent hopes were shattered in an instant. 'You would have to earn her love,' Chandler told himself, 'And you've never given her a reason to love you.' He had been mean and unyielding to her – certainly, no one could fall in love with a man like that. Not that she would have fallen for him anyway, but –

"Chandler," she stated, breaking him from his thoughts.

"Right," he whispered sadly, "So, this is just –"

She took in a shaky breath and leaned over to straighten her wrinkled skirt against her legs, "Yeah."

He nodded under the pretence of agreement. However, inside, his mind was asking 'why,' while his heart was desperately screaming the same question. Why did they have to leave the idea of "them" to a single, isolated day? No, he knew about the boyfriend and the patient-doctor relationship, but why? Why did any of that have to matter? 'Why' was getting him nowhere though, he realized as Monica bit her lip apprehensively. The question would not help him now.

Slowly, he headed toward the door, passing but never looking Monica in the eye. Her head was bowed slightly, eyes averted to the gray-carpeted floor. Her breathing was deep and ragged, as her heart beat wildly in her chest. This would be the moment that everything would turn upside down again. As soon as Chandler left the room, she knew she would collapse into a heap of sobs. But he had to leave. He had to leave because – well, she wasn't sure exactly. The boyfriend, right. 'Richard,' she emphasized in her head, 'Richard, damnit!' He wasn't really there, though. Every moment she had ever spent with him suddenly felt like a surreal dream. But Chandler – she could still feel his fingertips against her skin – and she was torn. All she was sure of was that she and Chandler together equaled nothing but disaster. She was not the woman he thought she was. It would end in heartbreak for both of them.

"Monica?"

He watched as her head snapped forward expectedly, but then, just as quickly, the look on her face melted into a hard stance of disapproval. He felt his cheeks grow warm. Swiftly, before Monica could register what he was doing, he moved back and kissed her. She almost fell over from the surprise and intensity of the kiss, but allowed herself to be carried away into that calm world once more as she kissed him back. But then, all too quickly, the kiss ended and Chandler was heading out the door.

"I guess I'll see you next week."

"Yeah," Monica whispered to his disappearing form, fingers resting lightly on her lips, "See you next week."

Had she just let everything she had ever been waiting for walk out the door?

Tears streamed down Monica's cheeks as she sat on the couch in the living room of her apartment. Her legs were tucked underneath her bottom, arms wrapped around her body, as she clutched a white, cordless phone in her left hand. She could not stop the tears from flowing, no matter how hard she tried. She felt so lost and utterly confused.

Monica heard the door open and she tried in vain to wipe the tears from her face and hide her dreary demeanor. It worked for a time though; when she first entered the apartment, Rachel was completely oblivious to her friend's distress.

"Hey Mon, do I have any phone messages?"

"No," Monica answered, trying to sound as normal as she possibly could after spending the past thirty minutes crying.

It was not, however, enough to trick Rachel, who immediately sensed the tone in Monica's voice. She then moved close to Monica, noticed the pink-rimmed eyes and blotchy face, and immediately engulfed her in a hug. Monica's tears began to flow freely once again.

For a while, Rachel merely let Monica sob on her shoulder, rubbing soothing circles upon her back. She had been so startled to find Monica in such a position. While Rachel had seen Monica upset and witnessed her bouts of depression, she could not remember a time in her life when Monica had so blatantly revealed her emotions. Usually, it was Rachel who was crying on Monica's shoulder, not the opposite. Therefore, she sensed that whatever it was that happened must be extremely painful to her distraught friend. 

"Sweetie?" she attempted, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Monica shook her head against Rachel's chest.

"Are you sure? You can just tell me a little something. It'll make you feel better."

Monica detached herself and looked up into Rachel's eyes, pondering the offer. She really needed to talk about everything. 'A little a time,' she warned herself while she nodded at Rachel, 'Don't make this worse than it already is.'

"I broke up with Richard."

"Oh," Rachel replied, confused by the sadness that this deed entailed, "But I thought you wanted to?"

"I – I did."

"Okay," she began carefully, "I know I never really understood the, umm, extent – of your relationship with Richard, but I'm not sure I understand why you're upset."

"It's not Richard – at least not really," Rachel cocked her head to the side and rubbed Monica's arm soothingly, "It's – it's…another man."

Rachel paused. She had not been expecting that revelation. She furrowed her brow, "Another man?"

"Yeah," Monica repeated, "Another man."

"Really – I mean – did you – I mean…that's so not like you," she finished meekly.

"I know," she picked at a loose thread on the white couch, "I know."

"Who? How long?"

"It was just once – today! That's why I broke up with him!" she defended but then weakened, "Just…a few hours too late."

"Oh Honey. Is that what this is about?" Monica nodded, "Look, I'm not going to say that what you did was rightm but you're human. You weren't satisfied being with Richard anymore."

"I know, but I shouldn't have held onto him."

Rachel bit her lip, refraining herself from answering. Monica, however, knew that Rachel was inwardly agreeing with the statement.

"I was scared of letting go of him."

"Why?"

Monica hesitated. How could she answer? How could she describe the feeling she got when she was in Richard's arms? Rachel wouldn't be able to understand, but she tried anyway, "It was comfortable. It reminded me of a simpler time. It was familiar. I hate change."

Rachel nodded, but still looked slightly confused. 'At least she's trying to understand,' Monica decided.

"So, who's the other man?"

Monica licked her lips nervously, having been apprehensive of this question from the start. "His name's Chandler."

"And…?"

She couldn't help the slight smile that crept upon her face, "I dunno…he's just…I don't even know! I just – I really like him."

Rachel smiled in return, "Yeah? So, what's the problem?"

Her smile was quickly replaced by a frown as she shook her head, "Complicated. Much too complicated."

"How?"

"Well, he's…" Monica looked away, "He's one of my patients."

Rachel stared at Monica in shock. It took all of her self control just to keep her jaw from crashing down upon the floor. Monica – practical, private, in control of it all Monica – had a crush on one of her patients? Normally, she was so professional that she would never even let out a single detail about one of her patients! It was much too insane to believe.

"I shouldn't have said anything," Monica moaned upon Rachel's reaction.

"No, no! Honey, it's not your fault. You can't help who you have feelings for!"

"I know, but…it's so unprofessional. And it – it just can't happen."

"Well…you two…slept together, right?" Monica nodded, "That means he probably feels something, too." Monica shrugged, "I'm sensing there's another reason for not getting together."

"It's just –" she looked up at Rachel and shook her head, "It's too complicated."

Before Rachel could formulate an argument, Monica had risen from her place on the couch and slammed her bedroom door. Rachel sighed. What could she do?

Chandler stumbled into his room and fell onto his bed, staring up at the bleak, white ceiling. He wished he could just turn off his thoughts, but the harder he tried, the more they filled his mind. For once, he wanted to be alone – in his room, not sitting on some stoop, watching strangers pass by. He thought of how ironic this was. The things that used to comfort him all the sudden became the things he dreaded, while what he dreaded became his comfort.

He closed his eyes and remembered how Monica felt in his arms. The smell of her hair filled his nostrils. Her infectious giggle, her soft hair… He wished her could hold her in his arms again.

Vaguely, he began to wonder how Monica was feeling. Was she upset? Did she long to be in his arms as well? Did she even care at all? Suddenly, another thought crossed his mind. Last time, when he had his heart broken by a woman he loved, he wanted to end his life. Yet, even though now he could not be with Monica, he still wanted to live. He wanted to live for her. Then again, he frowned, Monica technically had not broken his heart. After all, she never had his heart to begin with.

One day. That was it. How could one day mean so much? It couldn't. It just couldn't. Well, it did mean that much and more to him, but it shouldn't. Why couldn't he just push it out of his mind? Sex, no strings attached, with a beautiful woman – any other man would kill to be in his predicament. He, in turn, longed to be one of them – to write the day off as just another day, and a lucky one, at that.

He felt the weight on his bed shift slightly, and then, a moment later, he felt paws on his stomach as the white kitten settled on his stomach.

"When'd you get in here, huh, Mon?" he cooed.

He reached up and caressed her head with two fingers as he closed his eyes, allowing himself to settle with the sounds of her steady purring as it filled the room. One lone tear slipped down his cheek. The cat's tail brushed his face, drying the tear from his face. He fell into a fitful sleep.

A/N: Yes, I know this chapter was "short" (I hardly consider anything over 1500 words short, but oh well.) Hopefully, I'll be able to finish this fic with my extra day off from school, so that I'll be able to update even when I won't have time to write  ::glares at final exams:: Please leave me a review, thanks! :)