You guys will not believe how happy I was to get your reviews... I was so scared I might anger some of you. I have read fanfics that include rape, especially of a minor, and people have got really annoyed with the writer, saying it's not right to include it... but you lot are the greatest. I love you. I just hope that I can continue this in a way that you will enjoy. Lilian xXx
Three Months Later: February (R rating)
"How do you mean?" Jack asked, looking over his newspaper.
Judy hesitated. "I don't know, Jack... ever since she's started becoming friends with this Chandler guy, she's seemed a lot happier. I mean, she still runs to her room in tears at random points and won't answer me when I ask her what's wrong... but you just watch her face when she thinks no one is looking. I'm telling you, something's going on between those two."
"Judy, she's only just sixteen," Jack said, smiling at his wife.
"That means nothing these days Jack," she scolded him. "I bet you that-"
"Judy, you're right. She does seem slightly happier, and any improvement is a thing to be encouraged. So she's made a new friend. Not all teenagers are sex mad you know."
Judy sighed. "I don't have a problem with it Jack. I was merely pointing it out. Chandler has problems. Monica seems to also have problems. They're good for each other. Maybe... we should invite him back here?"
Jack put down his paper. "No. Judy, don't. You'll just embarrass Monica. She'll hate you for it."
Judy nodded. "I guess you're right. Let's just see what happens. I think they'll confide in each other.. maybe it will help them."
As Jack nodded in agreement, they heard their daughter clatter down the stairs. She appeared in the sitting room and smiled a small, yet obvious smile at her mother. "Mom, I'm going over to Chandlers. Is that okay?"
Judy smiled back at Monica. "Of course, dear. Are you having dinner there?"
"I doubt it," Monica replied. "Unless I make him something. His dad's gone now, and his mother just stays locked in her bedroom. I don't think Chandler even knows what a toaster is."
Jack smiled to himself at Monica's sense of humour. It was returning. His cute little dark haired daughter was coming back to them. Slowly but surely, she was returning to them.
"So, Chandler, eh?" he asked, turning to Monica. "He seems nice." It was obvious parent-child teasing and Monica felt suddenly warm inside. She hadn't felt like that for at least a year. Finally, she could feel herself letting go... or beginning to, at least.
"He is, dad," she said, grinning shyly.
"Is he your boyfriend?" Jack enquired politely.
The warm feeling disappeared. She knew it wasn't her dads fault-he didn't know- but she didn't like the word boyfriend, partner... it reminded her of things she didn't want to remember.
"I...err.. I'll be back before nine," she said falteringly, and ran out the house. Judy turned to her husband, annoyed. Jack looked back at her, surprised. "What did I say?" he asked sheepishly.
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Ross stared at his report card. He couldn't quite believe it himself, but it was true. Math: A. Science: A. English...
What had happened? How had he got a C in English? He knew that English wasn't his favourite subject-he couldn't love any subject more than he loved science, but a C... his parents would be so disappointed. He never got less than an A, except in rare circumstances when he got a B, but that was when he had been ill and missed a lot of classes.
His parents would never understand. There would be so many questions, so much to explain, things to confess. He couldn't let them get upset and disappointed in him. It never occured to him that perhaps they would understand, if he did explain. He couldn't even begin to imagine how he would tell them that their A-grade son had only just passed English.
Sighing, he stood up, holding the report card in his hand, and shoved it under his pillow. Dinner was ready, and he knew if he was late downstairs they would want to know why. He couldn't cope with questioning just then.
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Chandler watched Monica as she bustled round the kitchen. She wouldn't let him do anything to help her, and before he knew what was happening, dinner was set out on the table. She had even set a place for Nora, in the hope that she might be tempted by the smell of pasta and come down to eat. According to Chandler, she hadn't eaten in weeks and had only drunk water or alcohol. Monica suspected that perhaps she ate something at work, but all she would ever do in the day was get up, get ready for work, go to work, come home and go straight to her bedroom.
"She won't come down," he said sadly. Monica looked up at him, her hair falling in her eyes, and he gently brushed it away.
"Thanks," she said gruffly, and then smiled as she passed him a knife. She sat down opposite him, and looked at him questioningly, a small smile on her face.
"What's up? Don't you like pasta?" she asked. "You could've told me before I did it-"
"No, no, it's not that," Chandler said, reaching for his fork. "I was just thinking... I've never known anyone like you before."
Monica looked confused. "What do you mean?" she asked, her face looking blank. Chandler was amazed. Did Monica not realise what a great friend she was? Did she expect him to take all her hard work for granted? If it wasn't for her, he would still be wallowing in his depression, over his parents divorce. Maybe she would never realise how grateful he really was to her, how much he really-
"Mozzarella?" she asked, passing him a bowl. He shook his head, not really listening. "Chandler, are you going to tell me what you meant?" she said quietly, looking at him.
Chandler shook himself out of his thoughts. Monica... he'd really never known anyone like her before. Someone who was willing to spend so much time with him, who asked so little, except maybe just to be listened to from time to time, to be talked to. Often to be immature with. She'd had to grow up fast over the past year and she'd lost some of her childish exuberance, but spending time with Chandler had helped it to re-grow, and sometimes, when she let herself forget that dark day from just over a year ago, she felt younger than ever. But the feeling, the memory, always returned to haunt her. Especially at night, as she fell asleep.
"Mon... don't you realise?" he asked, putting his fork down and reaching out to touch her hand. Surprisingly, she didn't pull away as she had before, but seemed interested in what he had to say.
"Realise what?" she asked innocently.
Chandler waved his hand around, exasperated. "All the little things you do... you look after me, Mon. Do you expect me to just give in to that, and expect it of you? Monica... you're my best friend. You took care of me when I was feeling down, when you had your own problems..." Here he paused, and looked at her with his head on one side. He still hadn't figured out what exactly was her problem, but he guessed it had something to do with a man, or a boy perhaps. Probably the latter. Maybe she'd been screwed over by someone and she'd just taken it too bad, but he knew that if it was important to her then it was important to him to help her.
"I like looking after people," she said simply. "Especially you, Chandler. I really feel I can open up to you, I can totally trust you."
"Then why won't you?" Chandler exclaimed, and Monica looked a little worried. "Monica... I want to help you, I really do, and if you think you can trust me then why won't you tell me?"
Monica looked away. The day had been great so far. Why did he have to ruin it with the questions? Maybe if she told him, he would shut up. But if she told him... he'd be disgusted. He wouldn't want to know her. He would look at her differently. She couldn't bear it.
"I can't," she said, her voice catching as tears caught in her throat. "I just can't, Chandler, ok? Can we please..."
"No," Chandler interrupted, but he was calmer. "Monica, you need help. Seriously, this thing is eating you up inside. Please, let me help you."
Monica looked at him, suddenly angry. He had no right to question her, and perhaps if he felt this mad, this angry with her, then it wouldn't change if she did tell him. He would still not be happy... but he wasn't happy now.
"Chandler, please..." she warned him, one last time.
"Monica-"
She stood up, her eyes flashing angrily, and Chandler thought for a split second she looked more beautiful than ever. Her hair was waving with the speed at which she stood up, and she glared at him. He was quite frightened.
"Okay," she said, quietly, but the rage in her voice was obvious. "You want to know why, Chandler? Why I've been depressed and pissed off everyone around me with my sad mournful face, my frequent tears and my anger? Why my sense of humour has disappeared except for the sacred times when I can actually forget what happened to me and be a child again? Because I was raped, Chandler. Ok? I was raped. By a man who should have known better. By someone I thought I could trust. A family friend. A CURRENT family friend. And if I tell ANYONE, then my family will feel so bad, so guilty..." She was beginning to break down, and Chandler, who had been shocked into silence, stood up and grabbed her. She looked as if she was going to fall. All the anger was let out and she felt as weak as a paper doll. In a strange way, she felt relieved to have finally told someone... but that wasn't the way it was supposed to happen. It wasn't supposed to happen at all.
"Monica..." Chandler didn't know what to say, but held her until her hysterical sobs finally began to subside. She was so angry with herself. Chandler had been worried about her, and she had yelled at him as if he was the one who raped her. He had nothing to apologise for, yet she knew that he would. Everyone always said sorry, as if it was their fault... not that she would know from personal experience.
"I want to say I'm sorry," Chandler said carefully "but I can't even begin to imagine what you're going through... and sorry doesn't even begin to help the pain go away."
Monica looked at him, weakly. Maybe he did understand, if only a little, what she was going through. He hadn't had a similar experience... but he too, knew that "sorry's" don't help to ease the feeling of anger, pain, and sadness.
"You're not angry with me?" she asked hopefully. Chandler laughed sadly, pulling her closer to him.
"Of course not," he said, and he hugged her. "I'm so glad you finally got the courage to tell someone. Monica... I meant it. I want to help you. I don't know how I can even begin to... but I will give it my best shot."
"Thank you," she said in a whisper, before the exhaustion suddenly crept up on her and she fell asleep, leaning on him. Chandler estimated her weight, figured he could manage it, and gently carried her to the sofa, laying her down softly. He knelt beside her and brushed her hair out of her eyes. She hadn't slept properly in months. Perhaps, now she had finally confided in someone, she would feel better.
Chandler went to the phone, and dialled the Geller's number. "Mrs. Geller?" he asked, as Judy answered the phone. "It's Chandler Bing here. Erm... Monica might be a little late home. Is that okay? Thank you... yes, she's fine, she's just talking... yes, it is helping...okay, bye bye."
He put the phone down, and looked over at the dark haired girl lying on his sofa. Smiling sadly, worried for his friend but not wanting to disturb her, he picked up a book, sat on the sofa opposite her, and began to read, as darkness descended on the neighbourhood.
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"How late?" Jack asked, as Judy sat back down on the chair.
She shrugged. "I don't know. Jack, I wouldn't worry. It was you who told me not to worry earlier."
"I'm not worried," he said, smiling. "Just curious. Monica's old enough to know what she's doing anyway."
Judy nodded and stole the newspaper from Jack's lap. He made no attempt to stop her, as he had already read it, but as he got up to put on the TV, there was a knock at the door.
"Ross?" Judy called. "Can you get it please?"
Ross was in the kitchen, sitting at the table with his head in his hands. He knew he shouldn't make such a big deal out of his grades, but he couldn't help it. He'd always been a straight-A-grade student, and now it was ruined, because of that one C.
Sighing, he got up, noting as he walked past the window that it was raining quite heavily. He got to the front door and opened it, expecting it to be Monica having not heard the conversation his mother had just had with Chandler. He was shocked when he saw a very upset and wet Rachel Green standing on the doorstep.
"Hi... Ross... is Monica in?" she asked, tears streaming down her face. "I need to talk to her... it's urgent..."
"No, Rache, I'm sorry," Ross said, suddenly concerned for Rachel. "Hey, do you wanna talk to me about it? Can I help?"
Rachel looked at Ross. In he past couple of months she had spent quite a lot of time with Monica's brother, and although at first she thought him to just be the annoying older sibling that Monica had portrayed him as, she found he was very deep, and often very helpful. He had helped her when she had problems with Chip, given her advice. Maybe he could help with this new, and so distressing problem.
"I don't want to put you out," she said hesitantly, but Ross had already opened the door wider so she could walk in. He was very worried now. She didn't even have any make-up on, and she was wearing tracksuit bottoms and an old grey fleece. Something terrible must have happened, he thought grimly, as he helped her into the house.
"You're not," he said reassuringly, as he closed the front door behind them.
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I hope this longer chapter made up for the last shorter one. I was out waaaay too late last night, but when I'm tired I often feel in the mood for writing, so I finished this off. Also still feel quite drunk... too much vodka... anyway, please read and review if you can spare the time (which I hope you can :) ) Oh, and, you know, it's my birthday soon (hint hint) so please be nice children. Lilian xXx