In A Lifetime
Chapter Seven: Believe The Light In You
Disclaimer: Not-not-mine, not-not-mine... [/Phoebe]
A/N: Was it too long a wait? Well, I AM writing three fics at the same time... what a mistake. Anyway...
Sorry if the way what happens at the end is the wrong way it would happen, but my proofer said you're more focused on the emotions, so it doesn't matter much. This chapter it the longest yet, at just over 3000 words, and I hope sincerely you enjoy it. Especially Chris, who managed to not get out her knife this time. ;)
Dedication: A three-way dedication: To Pie, my proofer, Becca, my adviser, and Chris, my inspiration. She eggs me on. ;) Love y'all. :D
*~*~*
"Are you awake?"
He spoke his words to the silent air, his breath slightly misting the dark room. It rose slowly, glowing dully in the slim light that peeped through the concealed window. Beside the bed, the clock ticked quietly, telling of its hand's movement around the face.
He stared up at the ceiling, the lampshade becoming clearer as his tired eyes adjusted to the light, the room becoming lighter, as it did when you had lain awake for a while.
He shivered, and pulled the covers over himself, wrapping them tighter on his left side.
"No," came the quiet reply.
He turned his body over, causing the bed to bounce slightly, and saw that Monica was staring upward too, her eyes boring into the ceiling. The sheet was pulled tightly around her, everything below her neckline covered in light blue blanket.
"Are you cold?" he asked, speaking softly, his mouth in close proximity to her ear.
She looked at him, her face still facing forward, and he saw the answer in her eyes. He pushed his hand under her body, and moved in around her, his arms creating a barrier from the cold around her.
She smiled up at his face, which then came to rest upon the pillow, her hair tickling his chin slightly.
"It'll be fine," she said, her lips grazing his cheek as she spoke.
"I know," he whispered, brushing his lips over hers as she turned her body into his, their eyes meeting. "I'm just... a little scared, y'know?"
She nodded as best she could, her head sliding over the pillow. "I know."
"Just promise me... promise me you'll be okay," he said softly.
She looked sadly at him. "You know I can't do that," she said. "It's not under my control. And it's not under yours either, Chandler." She closed her eyes, a tear trickling from the corner of her eye. "It's not under out control," she whispered to herself.
Chandler lightly brushed the tear from her cheek and kissed the spot upon which it had lain, tightening his grip around her, pulling her closer to his body, feeling the heat radiating from her body. He breathed softly, the air grazing her cheek.
"I'll be okay," she breathed. "I'll be okay."
"I know," he said quietly, closing his eyes.
"I love you," she whispered.
"I know that too," he told her, as they both started to fall asleep, bodies locked together in a tight embrace. "But I love you more..."
*~*~*
Chandler heard the water trickling down through the wall, hearing it hit the floor of the shower as it fell over Monica's body.
He sighed, and walked away from his position near the bathroom, moving into the kitchen, where he poured himself a bowl of cereal. He sat down at the table, rifting through the mail he had already collected as he crunched spoonfuls of his breakfast slowly, with disinterest.
He threw the mail, mostly consisting of bills, back onto the other side of the table, and picked up his bowl, heading to the couch.
He flicked on the television, searching for anything that could get his mind off the impending appointment. He quickly changed from the news, knowing that would only make him more depressed. He hopped from a cartoon show, having lost interest in those as he had moved over the hall.
Finally, settling on a movie, that he recognized to be Manhattan, he sunk slightly into the couch, balancing the bowl on his chest, taking small handfuls as he stared at the screen, trying to get himself into the movie and away from his life.
He heard the water in the bathroom desist, and began increasingly transfixed to the screen, trying to listen to the quiet scene that happened to be on at that particular time. Giving up, he clicked the off button, and Woody Allen's face vanished mid-sentence.
Chandler put his bowl down on the coffee table, ignoring the fact that it was still almost full, and walked into the bathroom. He immediately caught sight of Monica's velvet skin, shining in the early morning sun, showing above the soft white towel she had wrapped around herself.
She turned as he entered, and smiled at him.
"Morning," she said, as he put his arms around her from behind and kissed her on the cheek.
He smiled at her from her shoulder. "Morning," he whispered into her ear, rubbing the towel fabric softly.
"You scared?" he asked her, as she slipped slowly out of his arms and reaching for another towel to dry her hair with.
"Would you believe me if I said no?" she replied.
"No," he smiled. "And I'm glad you didn't," he said.
She frowned at him, shaking her head slightly, small water droplets hitting Chandler's jeans. "Why's that?" she asked.
"Because if you'd lied, then you would have been denying your feelings, and it would just have hurt more when you admitted them. Plus, I would have felt like you were lying to me, when we're supposed to be in a totally honest and trusting relationship," he finished, breathing a little quicker than usual.
She paused, staring at him. "Where'd you get that from?" she asked incredulously.
He faked hurt. "Hey, I-"
"Chandler."
"I found that marriage book you'd bought to give me in the closet," he admitting, looking down.
She groaned. "Chandler!" she said, hitting him lightly.
He gave her a mischievous smile, and kissed her on the cheek again.
She pulled her towel tighter. "I need to get dry," she said pointedly.
He nodded, and turned to leave, but he turned back before he opened the door.
"Monica?" he said, making her look up from drying the hair.
"Yeah?" she asked.
He moved slowly and tentatively forward, swinging his arms shakily. "Can I... can I dry you?" he said.
She stared at him, and he froze in place, scared of her reaction.
"Wh-Why?" she said finally, frowning at him.
He looked down, appearing rather flushed. "I just... wanted to see you... once more befo- before... y'know," he stammered.
She looked at him, a small smile playing on her face. But it was one of sadness, and wistfulness.
"Chandler... is this going to change everything?" she asked.
He shook his head. "No, it won't change how I feel about you. You'll still be absolutely beautiful to me. I'm just... afraid how it'll change you, and what you let me be part of," he said slowly.
She smiled, and moved forward, her hand grazing his cheek in affection. "Chandler... it's not going to change. We have no secrets, nothing hidden, and this is no different." She brushed her lips over his. "I love you, and I always will. And we'll have no secrets," she whispered.
He closed his eyes as she flickered her tongue over his lips, trying to stop his own tongue from imitation. "Can I still do it?" he said breathlessly, moving his hands over her bare skin.
She nodded as her lips slid over his.
Chandler unhooked the towel from her waist and slowly took it in his hands. He placed it lightly over her neck, and caressed her skin through it, wiping the water droplets off it one by one, as Monica closed her eyes, unmoving as her fiancée rubbed her skin with a silken touch, the cotton sliding over her skin like velvet.
"Chandler?" she whispered.
"Yeah?" he said almost silently, moving the towel slightly.
"I don't want to lose you," she whispered.
He looked up, his eyes suddenly filled with fear, but he said nothing, and continued to dry her with the towel, taking in every inch of her smooth, flawless skin.
*~*~*
Chandler picked the bag from the bed, his knees buckling under the weight, and he made his way back into the living room, where Monica was standing by the doorway, impatiently tapping her foot.
"Come on, Chandler!" she moaned, waving him over.
He put the bag down as he reached her, and frowned at her. "Monica... this is VERY heavy, you know."
Her expression didn't change. "Chandler..."
"I know, I know, we're late," he said sullenly, grabbing his coat from the hook and pushing his arms into it. "Do you want your coat?" he asked, and she nodded, suddenly rather muted.
He helped her zip it up, and then he reached down for the bag, groaning slightly as he picked it back up. "You know, this is really, REALLY he-" He stopped, seeing Monica's frozen expression. "Mon?" he said, slowly moving toward her.
"Yes?" she said suddenly, scaring him as she regained movement.
He rubbed her arm. "Are you... okay?" he asked.
She looked down at his arm, then up at his face. "Me?" she asked. "I'm fine," she said, nodding fervently.
"Monica..." Chandler said softly, lifting her chin up slightly.
She looked at him, and he saw the fear in her eyes.
"Okay, fine!" she said. "I'm scared as hell, okay?" she said in annoyance, turning away, tears flying from her eyes.
He sighed, and enveloped her hand in his, rubbing it gently as he spoke. "I thought we went through this, Mon... it's okay for you to be scared."
She tried to smile, but the fear remained in her eyes, and she looked away, trying to wipe away her tears unnoticed.
"Monica..." Chandler said.
"Come on," she said, trying to ignore his words and motioning him out the door. "We've got to go."
He opened his mouth again, but thought the better of it. He picked up the bag again, and followed her down the stairwell to the car.
She leant against the window as he pushed the bag into the back seat, slamming the door a little harder than he meant to. He avoided her gaze as he locked the doors again, listening for the click above the noise of the city.
She slid her hand cautiously into his as they walked over to the door of the coffeehouse, and was surprised, with his current mood, that he didn't recoil. If anything, his grip tightened around her hand.
He pushed the door of the coffeehouse open, and let her walk through first, their hands still firmly attached. The others were all there already, coffee cups clasped firmly in Ross and Phoebe's hands, with Joey snoring audibly in the armchair, and Rachel talking quietly into her cell phone.
Phoebe jumped up when she saw them, running over, which made Ross and Rachel look around, and they followed Phoebe over, Joey still sound asleep in his chair.
"Is it now?" asked Rachel simply, looking from Monica to Chandler and back again.
They both nodded, staying silent.
Rachel hugged Chandler firmly, and whispered quietly into his ear. "Look after her."
He nodded slightly at her as she moved to hug Monica, and returned Phoebe's kiss on the cheek. Ross just gave him a meaningful look before hugging him too, and moving over to talk quietly with Monica.
Phoebe looked down at Joey as he grunted in his sleep, and smiled slightly. "Joey," she said. He didn't move. "Joey," she said a bit louder, but he still didn't move. "Joey!" she yelled, making everyone in the coffeehouse look at her, and causing Joey to leap out of his chair in alarm.
"What?" he said, as the people turned away, and he rubbed his eyes.
Phoebe pushed him toward the doorway. "Monica and Chandler are going," she said.
Joey frowned at her, still squinting. "Going where?"
She stared at him. "Going," she said pointedly.
He still frowned for a second, and they could all see his brain going through the thought processes... then he realized and his face lit up in realization. "Oh!" he exclaimed, making the others smile momentarily.
Their faces dropped in tandem, as Joey made his way over, enveloping Chandler in a fierce hug, whispering words similar to Rachel's into his ear.
For a moment, he just stared at Monica, and she looked back, trying not to let her nerve break.
She jumped slightly when he hugged her too, his hands wrapping around her back. She felt, with surprise, dry salty tears fall onto her exposed neckline, and when he pulled away, she saw him wipe his eyes embarrassedly.
"Good luck," he whispered, and she nodded.
*~*~*
Monica tapped her fingers in no particular rhythm as the car sped down the dusty street, the wind helping the car to pick up tiny particles as it blew about in the cold outside.
She looked over at Chandler, whose face faced the road. He swerved around a stationery van parked at the side of the road, exhaling in annoyance at the driver.
The car came to a halt at a set of traffic lights, two cars in the queue ahead of them. Chandler pressed down a button beside him, and the window lowered, the wind immediately blowing full into Monica's face, causing her hair to get momentarily caught in her mouth.
Chandler saw and made the window go back up, leaving a small crack at the top.
The sound of a ring tone could suddenly be heard, and Monica reached behind her into her bag, pulling her cell phone from it quickly. She jumped as the car began to move again, and slowly sat back in her chair, letting her heartbeat recede before she answered the phone.
"Hello?" she said softly, as Chandler cut past a slow moving truck.
"How's my little HarMonica?" said her Dad cheerfully, and Monica smiled.
Chandler glanced at her. "Who is it?" he asked, taking one hand off the wheel to turn the radio down.
Monica put her hand over the mouthpiece. "My Dad," she answered, then spoke into the phone. "Hey Dad! How are you?" she asked, trying to inject happiness into her voice.
"I'm fine," he answered. "But how are you?" he pressed. "Is it... is it today?" he questioned cautiously.
She smiled ruefully. "Yes, it's today. We're on our way to the hospital right now," she said.
"Oh. Are you okay?" he asked, and she heard the clear-cut worry in his voice.
"I'm okay," she answered. "And Chandler's fine too," she said, knowing the next question.
He sighed. "I'm glad. I hope everything goes okay. I was just phoning to check everything was okay," he said slowly.
"Thanks Dad," she said. "How's Mom?" she asked.
"Oh, she's still a little under the weather, but she'll be okay. The doctor said it was just a bug," he reassured her.
"That's great, Dad," she smiled. "Oh, we're coming up to a tunnel. I'll see you soon, okay?"
"Okay," he said. "Love you, Monica," he said, and then the line went fuzzy as the car was immersed in darkness.
"Love you too," she whispered, and clicked the line off, fumbling it back into her bag.
Chandler looked at her in confusion as he steered the car through the tunnel. "Why did you ask about your mom?" he asked.
Monica looked at him. "She's got the flu," she answered plainly.
"But I thought you wouldn't care," he commented, pulling the car round a sharp corner which exited the tunnel.
She frowned at him. "She's my mother, Chandler. Just because she... treated me like dirt as a child, and always thought I was a failure and Ross was wonderful... doesn't mean I don't... love her," she finished, as tears started rolling down her cheeks.
Chandler sighed, and pulled over into the first available side street to stop the car. He pulled a sobbing Monica into his arms, rested her head on his shoulder, and rocked her, stroking her hair affectionately.
She looked up, tears still streaming from her eyes, and saw the sadness in his eyes as he stared out of the front window.
It was midday, and the sun was at its height, the raindrops that had settled on the ground sparkling in the golden rays. Pools of rainwater lay on the roads, thrown up onto the sidewalk as cars passed, all the drivers in a hurry to get to wherever they were going.
Chandler felt Monica move on his shoulder, and shifted his weight so her head lay upon his chest. He kissed her hair softly, and let it lie over his shirt, tickling his throat as the breeze blew in through the opened window.
"We're going to be late," she whispered.
"I know," he said, almost silently.
She smiled slightly. "And let me guess... you don't care?" she said teasingly.
He caressed her lips gently with a fingertip, staring into her sparkling eyes. "Do you?" he said simply.
"No," she said, making no sound, but he saw her words.
*~*~*
Monica stared through the tiny window, seeing nothing but black. The rays of the sun moved and suddenly sparkled on the glass, dancing in front of Monica's fearful eyes.
"What time is it?" she asked, her voice cracking.
"Two minutes," he answered, hugging her to him tightly. "It'll be okay," he whispered. "I'll be here the whole time."
"I know," she answered. "I know."
They sat down again in the chairs behind them, Monica gripping the arms securely. She tried to keep her body steady, but she was shaking with uncontrollable nervousness.
She tried to stop her mind from asking the unanswerable questions: what if it goes wrong? What if I don't survive? What if I never see Chandler again?
She looked at him. He was staring at his shoes, his gaze solid, but not all there. She tapped his arm, and he looked up sharply.
"It's time," she said.
He gulped audibly, and grasped her hand as they walked down the corridor, avoiding the gaze of the few people they passed.
He stopped dead as they turned another corner. "There it is," he pointed.
She turned to him. "I love you," she whispered softly.
"I love you too," he said, and kissed her lips softly. As he pulled away, she leaned up, and captured them in a deeper kiss, causing his eyes to close involuntarily.
She broke away, then kissed him again, moving his lips to whisper silently, "Thank you."
And then she entered the room, the doctor who had held open the door giving Chandler a soft and understanding look.
Chandler wiped the tear that had appeared from his cheek, and sat down in the chair beneath him, putting his head into his hands.
Chapter Seven: Believe The Light In You
Disclaimer: Not-not-mine, not-not-mine... [/Phoebe]
A/N: Was it too long a wait? Well, I AM writing three fics at the same time... what a mistake. Anyway...
Sorry if the way what happens at the end is the wrong way it would happen, but my proofer said you're more focused on the emotions, so it doesn't matter much. This chapter it the longest yet, at just over 3000 words, and I hope sincerely you enjoy it. Especially Chris, who managed to not get out her knife this time. ;)
Dedication: A three-way dedication: To Pie, my proofer, Becca, my adviser, and Chris, my inspiration. She eggs me on. ;) Love y'all. :D
*~*~*
"Are you awake?"
He spoke his words to the silent air, his breath slightly misting the dark room. It rose slowly, glowing dully in the slim light that peeped through the concealed window. Beside the bed, the clock ticked quietly, telling of its hand's movement around the face.
He stared up at the ceiling, the lampshade becoming clearer as his tired eyes adjusted to the light, the room becoming lighter, as it did when you had lain awake for a while.
He shivered, and pulled the covers over himself, wrapping them tighter on his left side.
"No," came the quiet reply.
He turned his body over, causing the bed to bounce slightly, and saw that Monica was staring upward too, her eyes boring into the ceiling. The sheet was pulled tightly around her, everything below her neckline covered in light blue blanket.
"Are you cold?" he asked, speaking softly, his mouth in close proximity to her ear.
She looked at him, her face still facing forward, and he saw the answer in her eyes. He pushed his hand under her body, and moved in around her, his arms creating a barrier from the cold around her.
She smiled up at his face, which then came to rest upon the pillow, her hair tickling his chin slightly.
"It'll be fine," she said, her lips grazing his cheek as she spoke.
"I know," he whispered, brushing his lips over hers as she turned her body into his, their eyes meeting. "I'm just... a little scared, y'know?"
She nodded as best she could, her head sliding over the pillow. "I know."
"Just promise me... promise me you'll be okay," he said softly.
She looked sadly at him. "You know I can't do that," she said. "It's not under my control. And it's not under yours either, Chandler." She closed her eyes, a tear trickling from the corner of her eye. "It's not under out control," she whispered to herself.
Chandler lightly brushed the tear from her cheek and kissed the spot upon which it had lain, tightening his grip around her, pulling her closer to his body, feeling the heat radiating from her body. He breathed softly, the air grazing her cheek.
"I'll be okay," she breathed. "I'll be okay."
"I know," he said quietly, closing his eyes.
"I love you," she whispered.
"I know that too," he told her, as they both started to fall asleep, bodies locked together in a tight embrace. "But I love you more..."
*~*~*
Chandler heard the water trickling down through the wall, hearing it hit the floor of the shower as it fell over Monica's body.
He sighed, and walked away from his position near the bathroom, moving into the kitchen, where he poured himself a bowl of cereal. He sat down at the table, rifting through the mail he had already collected as he crunched spoonfuls of his breakfast slowly, with disinterest.
He threw the mail, mostly consisting of bills, back onto the other side of the table, and picked up his bowl, heading to the couch.
He flicked on the television, searching for anything that could get his mind off the impending appointment. He quickly changed from the news, knowing that would only make him more depressed. He hopped from a cartoon show, having lost interest in those as he had moved over the hall.
Finally, settling on a movie, that he recognized to be Manhattan, he sunk slightly into the couch, balancing the bowl on his chest, taking small handfuls as he stared at the screen, trying to get himself into the movie and away from his life.
He heard the water in the bathroom desist, and began increasingly transfixed to the screen, trying to listen to the quiet scene that happened to be on at that particular time. Giving up, he clicked the off button, and Woody Allen's face vanished mid-sentence.
Chandler put his bowl down on the coffee table, ignoring the fact that it was still almost full, and walked into the bathroom. He immediately caught sight of Monica's velvet skin, shining in the early morning sun, showing above the soft white towel she had wrapped around herself.
She turned as he entered, and smiled at him.
"Morning," she said, as he put his arms around her from behind and kissed her on the cheek.
He smiled at her from her shoulder. "Morning," he whispered into her ear, rubbing the towel fabric softly.
"You scared?" he asked her, as she slipped slowly out of his arms and reaching for another towel to dry her hair with.
"Would you believe me if I said no?" she replied.
"No," he smiled. "And I'm glad you didn't," he said.
She frowned at him, shaking her head slightly, small water droplets hitting Chandler's jeans. "Why's that?" she asked.
"Because if you'd lied, then you would have been denying your feelings, and it would just have hurt more when you admitted them. Plus, I would have felt like you were lying to me, when we're supposed to be in a totally honest and trusting relationship," he finished, breathing a little quicker than usual.
She paused, staring at him. "Where'd you get that from?" she asked incredulously.
He faked hurt. "Hey, I-"
"Chandler."
"I found that marriage book you'd bought to give me in the closet," he admitting, looking down.
She groaned. "Chandler!" she said, hitting him lightly.
He gave her a mischievous smile, and kissed her on the cheek again.
She pulled her towel tighter. "I need to get dry," she said pointedly.
He nodded, and turned to leave, but he turned back before he opened the door.
"Monica?" he said, making her look up from drying the hair.
"Yeah?" she asked.
He moved slowly and tentatively forward, swinging his arms shakily. "Can I... can I dry you?" he said.
She stared at him, and he froze in place, scared of her reaction.
"Wh-Why?" she said finally, frowning at him.
He looked down, appearing rather flushed. "I just... wanted to see you... once more befo- before... y'know," he stammered.
She looked at him, a small smile playing on her face. But it was one of sadness, and wistfulness.
"Chandler... is this going to change everything?" she asked.
He shook his head. "No, it won't change how I feel about you. You'll still be absolutely beautiful to me. I'm just... afraid how it'll change you, and what you let me be part of," he said slowly.
She smiled, and moved forward, her hand grazing his cheek in affection. "Chandler... it's not going to change. We have no secrets, nothing hidden, and this is no different." She brushed her lips over his. "I love you, and I always will. And we'll have no secrets," she whispered.
He closed his eyes as she flickered her tongue over his lips, trying to stop his own tongue from imitation. "Can I still do it?" he said breathlessly, moving his hands over her bare skin.
She nodded as her lips slid over his.
Chandler unhooked the towel from her waist and slowly took it in his hands. He placed it lightly over her neck, and caressed her skin through it, wiping the water droplets off it one by one, as Monica closed her eyes, unmoving as her fiancée rubbed her skin with a silken touch, the cotton sliding over her skin like velvet.
"Chandler?" she whispered.
"Yeah?" he said almost silently, moving the towel slightly.
"I don't want to lose you," she whispered.
He looked up, his eyes suddenly filled with fear, but he said nothing, and continued to dry her with the towel, taking in every inch of her smooth, flawless skin.
*~*~*
Chandler picked the bag from the bed, his knees buckling under the weight, and he made his way back into the living room, where Monica was standing by the doorway, impatiently tapping her foot.
"Come on, Chandler!" she moaned, waving him over.
He put the bag down as he reached her, and frowned at her. "Monica... this is VERY heavy, you know."
Her expression didn't change. "Chandler..."
"I know, I know, we're late," he said sullenly, grabbing his coat from the hook and pushing his arms into it. "Do you want your coat?" he asked, and she nodded, suddenly rather muted.
He helped her zip it up, and then he reached down for the bag, groaning slightly as he picked it back up. "You know, this is really, REALLY he-" He stopped, seeing Monica's frozen expression. "Mon?" he said, slowly moving toward her.
"Yes?" she said suddenly, scaring him as she regained movement.
He rubbed her arm. "Are you... okay?" he asked.
She looked down at his arm, then up at his face. "Me?" she asked. "I'm fine," she said, nodding fervently.
"Monica..." Chandler said softly, lifting her chin up slightly.
She looked at him, and he saw the fear in her eyes.
"Okay, fine!" she said. "I'm scared as hell, okay?" she said in annoyance, turning away, tears flying from her eyes.
He sighed, and enveloped her hand in his, rubbing it gently as he spoke. "I thought we went through this, Mon... it's okay for you to be scared."
She tried to smile, but the fear remained in her eyes, and she looked away, trying to wipe away her tears unnoticed.
"Monica..." Chandler said.
"Come on," she said, trying to ignore his words and motioning him out the door. "We've got to go."
He opened his mouth again, but thought the better of it. He picked up the bag again, and followed her down the stairwell to the car.
She leant against the window as he pushed the bag into the back seat, slamming the door a little harder than he meant to. He avoided her gaze as he locked the doors again, listening for the click above the noise of the city.
She slid her hand cautiously into his as they walked over to the door of the coffeehouse, and was surprised, with his current mood, that he didn't recoil. If anything, his grip tightened around her hand.
He pushed the door of the coffeehouse open, and let her walk through first, their hands still firmly attached. The others were all there already, coffee cups clasped firmly in Ross and Phoebe's hands, with Joey snoring audibly in the armchair, and Rachel talking quietly into her cell phone.
Phoebe jumped up when she saw them, running over, which made Ross and Rachel look around, and they followed Phoebe over, Joey still sound asleep in his chair.
"Is it now?" asked Rachel simply, looking from Monica to Chandler and back again.
They both nodded, staying silent.
Rachel hugged Chandler firmly, and whispered quietly into his ear. "Look after her."
He nodded slightly at her as she moved to hug Monica, and returned Phoebe's kiss on the cheek. Ross just gave him a meaningful look before hugging him too, and moving over to talk quietly with Monica.
Phoebe looked down at Joey as he grunted in his sleep, and smiled slightly. "Joey," she said. He didn't move. "Joey," she said a bit louder, but he still didn't move. "Joey!" she yelled, making everyone in the coffeehouse look at her, and causing Joey to leap out of his chair in alarm.
"What?" he said, as the people turned away, and he rubbed his eyes.
Phoebe pushed him toward the doorway. "Monica and Chandler are going," she said.
Joey frowned at her, still squinting. "Going where?"
She stared at him. "Going," she said pointedly.
He still frowned for a second, and they could all see his brain going through the thought processes... then he realized and his face lit up in realization. "Oh!" he exclaimed, making the others smile momentarily.
Their faces dropped in tandem, as Joey made his way over, enveloping Chandler in a fierce hug, whispering words similar to Rachel's into his ear.
For a moment, he just stared at Monica, and she looked back, trying not to let her nerve break.
She jumped slightly when he hugged her too, his hands wrapping around her back. She felt, with surprise, dry salty tears fall onto her exposed neckline, and when he pulled away, she saw him wipe his eyes embarrassedly.
"Good luck," he whispered, and she nodded.
*~*~*
Monica tapped her fingers in no particular rhythm as the car sped down the dusty street, the wind helping the car to pick up tiny particles as it blew about in the cold outside.
She looked over at Chandler, whose face faced the road. He swerved around a stationery van parked at the side of the road, exhaling in annoyance at the driver.
The car came to a halt at a set of traffic lights, two cars in the queue ahead of them. Chandler pressed down a button beside him, and the window lowered, the wind immediately blowing full into Monica's face, causing her hair to get momentarily caught in her mouth.
Chandler saw and made the window go back up, leaving a small crack at the top.
The sound of a ring tone could suddenly be heard, and Monica reached behind her into her bag, pulling her cell phone from it quickly. She jumped as the car began to move again, and slowly sat back in her chair, letting her heartbeat recede before she answered the phone.
"Hello?" she said softly, as Chandler cut past a slow moving truck.
"How's my little HarMonica?" said her Dad cheerfully, and Monica smiled.
Chandler glanced at her. "Who is it?" he asked, taking one hand off the wheel to turn the radio down.
Monica put her hand over the mouthpiece. "My Dad," she answered, then spoke into the phone. "Hey Dad! How are you?" she asked, trying to inject happiness into her voice.
"I'm fine," he answered. "But how are you?" he pressed. "Is it... is it today?" he questioned cautiously.
She smiled ruefully. "Yes, it's today. We're on our way to the hospital right now," she said.
"Oh. Are you okay?" he asked, and she heard the clear-cut worry in his voice.
"I'm okay," she answered. "And Chandler's fine too," she said, knowing the next question.
He sighed. "I'm glad. I hope everything goes okay. I was just phoning to check everything was okay," he said slowly.
"Thanks Dad," she said. "How's Mom?" she asked.
"Oh, she's still a little under the weather, but she'll be okay. The doctor said it was just a bug," he reassured her.
"That's great, Dad," she smiled. "Oh, we're coming up to a tunnel. I'll see you soon, okay?"
"Okay," he said. "Love you, Monica," he said, and then the line went fuzzy as the car was immersed in darkness.
"Love you too," she whispered, and clicked the line off, fumbling it back into her bag.
Chandler looked at her in confusion as he steered the car through the tunnel. "Why did you ask about your mom?" he asked.
Monica looked at him. "She's got the flu," she answered plainly.
"But I thought you wouldn't care," he commented, pulling the car round a sharp corner which exited the tunnel.
She frowned at him. "She's my mother, Chandler. Just because she... treated me like dirt as a child, and always thought I was a failure and Ross was wonderful... doesn't mean I don't... love her," she finished, as tears started rolling down her cheeks.
Chandler sighed, and pulled over into the first available side street to stop the car. He pulled a sobbing Monica into his arms, rested her head on his shoulder, and rocked her, stroking her hair affectionately.
She looked up, tears still streaming from her eyes, and saw the sadness in his eyes as he stared out of the front window.
It was midday, and the sun was at its height, the raindrops that had settled on the ground sparkling in the golden rays. Pools of rainwater lay on the roads, thrown up onto the sidewalk as cars passed, all the drivers in a hurry to get to wherever they were going.
Chandler felt Monica move on his shoulder, and shifted his weight so her head lay upon his chest. He kissed her hair softly, and let it lie over his shirt, tickling his throat as the breeze blew in through the opened window.
"We're going to be late," she whispered.
"I know," he said, almost silently.
She smiled slightly. "And let me guess... you don't care?" she said teasingly.
He caressed her lips gently with a fingertip, staring into her sparkling eyes. "Do you?" he said simply.
"No," she said, making no sound, but he saw her words.
*~*~*
Monica stared through the tiny window, seeing nothing but black. The rays of the sun moved and suddenly sparkled on the glass, dancing in front of Monica's fearful eyes.
"What time is it?" she asked, her voice cracking.
"Two minutes," he answered, hugging her to him tightly. "It'll be okay," he whispered. "I'll be here the whole time."
"I know," she answered. "I know."
They sat down again in the chairs behind them, Monica gripping the arms securely. She tried to keep her body steady, but she was shaking with uncontrollable nervousness.
She tried to stop her mind from asking the unanswerable questions: what if it goes wrong? What if I don't survive? What if I never see Chandler again?
She looked at him. He was staring at his shoes, his gaze solid, but not all there. She tapped his arm, and he looked up sharply.
"It's time," she said.
He gulped audibly, and grasped her hand as they walked down the corridor, avoiding the gaze of the few people they passed.
He stopped dead as they turned another corner. "There it is," he pointed.
She turned to him. "I love you," she whispered softly.
"I love you too," he said, and kissed her lips softly. As he pulled away, she leaned up, and captured them in a deeper kiss, causing his eyes to close involuntarily.
She broke away, then kissed him again, moving his lips to whisper silently, "Thank you."
And then she entered the room, the doctor who had held open the door giving Chandler a soft and understanding look.
Chandler wiped the tear that had appeared from his cheek, and sat down in the chair beneath him, putting his head into his hands.