Alright people, long time no see indeed! Wow, it's been just about a year, hasn't it? Well, I apologize and I hope you'll forgive me. It's scary how fast time can go by sometimes, eh? I must admit that ever since Friends ended, I haven't been that much into writing fan fiction for it . . . at all. But I felt inspired tonight, and maybe there are still some die-hard Victoria Ann fans out there who are still eagerly awaiting my update? Lol, it's probably a long shot but hey at least I try.
Before I start I want to thank everyone for your encouragement last year and your patience. There will most likely be only a couple more chapters to this story, but I think I owe it to all you guys and to Friends to finish it up. Here ya go!
Disclaimer: None of the Friends characters belong to me; they are of course property of Bright, Kauffman, and Crane. Hey, anyone think they'll go up for sale on EBAY anytime soon seeing how the show's ended?
(Warning: The end of this chapter contains some swearing.)
Someone to Lean On
Chapter 13: The Feeling
The quick knock on the door startled Monica. She had just been deodorizing the guys' bathroom, which was slightly sickening, and had sat down to take a short break and to get away from the strong fumes of Lysol. Now she was sitting down with her legs over the arm of the living room chair looking over the newest issue of Car & Driver magazine—not exactly her taste but the closest thing within reach.
Pounding resounded on the other side of the door as she dropped the magazine on the coffee table and ran to answer it, almost tripping herself on the way there.
"I'm coming, I'm coming! Gosh . . ." she muttered to herself as she unlocked the door and opened it. Then she gasped.
"Hey, babe, miss me?"
The feeling hit Chandler as if he had been delivered a blow right in the chest. He felt like the breath had been knocked out of him. He didn't know why, he just knew that it could not be good. A shiver ran up his spine, even though the temperature in the cab felt quite cozy.
He looked over his shoulder, out the back window of the car, like he could see what the problem was just by doing that. The gang's apartment building was no longer in sight; it had long since been visually taken over by closer, taller ones. But as he looked in that direction, he knew something wasn't right.
"Stop the cab!" Chandler shouted suddenly, surprising even himself.
"What?" asked the taxi driver incredulously.
"You've got to turn around. Something's wrong."
The driver sighed. He just didn't get paid enough. "I can't do that. Have you seen the traffic in New York City lately?"
"Of course, but you've gotta find a way."
Rolling his eyes, the driver held out his hand expectantly. Hurriedly Chandler rummaged in his pocket and pulled out a twenty, shoving it into the waiting hand.
"We'll see what we can do."
Ten minutes later, the taxicab pulled up to the curb next to the apartment building. The front tires squealed slight as the driver pressed on the breaks.
"Thanks . . ." Chandler managed to mumble as he tossed another twenty in the direction of the drivers' seat and climbed out, slamming the door shut behind him and running across the street without looking for cars coming from the other direction. Fortunately, nothing was, and he reached the building without further incident.
Nothing looked abnormal about it from the outside. It looked the same as it always did. However, only two things were running through Chandler's mind right now. One was that the building did in fact hold some sort of danger on the inside, and the other was that Monica was in there.
He sprinted up the stairs, making it to the right floor faster than ever before. Then he stopped, surveying his surroundings cautiously. At first everything looked normal. But, there! The door to Chandler and Joey's apartment was slightly ajar.
His heart raced, not only from the recent exercise but also from fear. He slowly approached the door, telling himself in his head that everything was fine. All of this was either his imagination and rarely-showed paranoia presenting itself in an odd way, or maybe he was still sleeping. Yes, that had to be it. This was all just a dream. In a couple of minutes he'd wake up with Monica at his side, sleeping peacefully, and he'd put an arm around her to be sure she was okay. And of course she would be, and he would be happy.
But something just was not right. That feeling in the pit of his stomach he couldn't ignore, and even though he didn't want to admit it, even without pinching himself he knew this was no dream.
As he got nearer to the door, he could hear a muffled voice. It wasn't Monica's voice; it was too deep. It couldn't have been the television, for it sounded too real . . . The voice sounded slightly familiar, too, but Chandler couldn't remember where he had heard it before or whose it could have been.
Finally, after what felt like hours, he reached the door and slowly pushed it open, thankful that no creaking was emitted by the hinges. Chandler thought that his heart was going to stop; it certainly skipped a beat, when he saw the sight before him.
George was standing in the living room, towering over Monica, who was cowering and staring wide-eyed at him, as if she too was still trying to get over the terrible fact that he was there. Angry words were coming from him, in a voice that could have done harm all by itself.
"How could you not have told me this, you bitch? The little shit's mine, isn't it?"
Chandler could only assume that they were talking about the baby. He wanted to move, wanted to run to her rescue and be the hero he'd always imagined himself being, but for some reason he was frozen, watching on in fear, as if it were a movie or television show.
Monica was also unable to move or speak. She had seen Chandler enter, but tried not to look at him so that she wouldn't bring him to George's attention. That was the last thing they needed right then. She tried to will him with her mind to turn and walk out of the apartment as quietly as possible, to go call for help before any of them got hurt. But it must not have worked, because Chandler stayed where he was.
When George asked if the baby was his, Monica panicked.
How was she supposed to tell him something that she didn't even know herself?
A/N: Sorry it was kinda short! I was gonna write more, but then I realized that I should probably wait and make sure people are still going to read this before I continue. So, in other words, if you're reading this story and are interested in hearing more, REVIEW! I accept both signed and unsigned so it doesn't matter who you are, just review, please. And if I get enough, I'll update ASAP. Thank you so much!