Gone for the Moment - Chapter Eight

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Chandler shot up in bed, frantically glancing around the room in a state of utter panic. His hospital gown was damp, as was his hair, and his heart was racing a mile a minute.

He pulled off his gown and tossed it over the side of the bed, leaving him in nothing but a pair of boxers.

Giving the room a decieving glance, he slowly laid back and prayed that his nightmare wouldn't find him tonight.

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Joey wandered the lonely street that his homely Greenwich Village apartment inhabited. He snuck out of the hospital without waking anybody else, them worrying about where he had run off to and Chandler would be too much to take.

After Monica had spoken with Chandler, she huffed out of the hospital without another word to any of them, not even giving them notice of where she was staying tonight.

Joey reached the apartment building and looked up at it. It looked colder, unwelcoming. A shiver ran through him as he reached out and grasped the door handle with a shaky hand.

There had never been more stairs, the hallways had never been darker, it had never been quieter.

Their apartment had been left in a state of chaos. Bloody towels strewn across the floor from when they had tried to clean Chandler up a bit and stop the bleeding. A giant blood stain, starting as a smooth outline in Chandler's room, then becoming jagged and smeared as it spilt into the living room. Unmade beds and yesterday's mail, now red and stained with blood, lying on the floor next to the couch.

Joey rubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes and walked further into the apartment blindly. He tossed his jacket on the couch, rolled up his blood stained sleeves, and grabbed a bucket and sponge from under the sink. He wouldn't be sleeping tonight.

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Phoebe roamed the halls of the hospital, running her hands over the walls and gazing at other people in various waiting rooms. Were they there for the same reasons? Were they there for happier reasons? What kind of outlook did their future hold?

She had woken up when she felt the absence of Joey's arms around her, keeping her warm and protected. Wondering if he had gotten up to find food or a bathroom, she had set out to look for him, but that was half an hour ago and now she couldn't even remember what she was doing up and wandering the hallways aimlessly.

She had lost her course of action, somewhat mirroring what her life had become. She knew the best days of her life had come to an end, and the days that held the same amount of joy and peace were far in the coming.

The ICU was quiet at three in the morning. Patients were sleeping, as were their friends and family that had come to visit them.

Looking up ahead, her eyes landed upon Ross and Rachel, peacefully sleeping in each other's arms.

She wearily meandered up to them and plopped back down in her chair, falling asleep as soon as her body slumped back to it's place against the wall.

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Rachel sighed contentedly in Ross's arms. There, she was safe, she was warm, and she was loved. His arms formed a protective sheild around her heart, fighting off the world and it's pain.

Monica was her best friend, and it was hard getting by without her. Phoebe was great, and caring, and sweet, but she was no Monica. Monica was the glue, without her, everybody fell apart, out of step. There was no fantastic breakfast to look forward to start your day off right, no dinner with the gang to end your day right. Her friends were her bookends, they started and ended the day. Now her days all flowed together, unseparated, unnoticed, uncared for.

She squirmed a bit in her seat to get more comfortable. She had never fallen asleep, she had watched Joey walk away, lost within himself, she watched Phoebe wake and go in search of something not five minutes after him. She watched tired nurses and doctors pass as they made their nightly rounds of checking on patients and restocking carts of supplies.

She watched as other guests and visitors walked past, looking just as lost as them, some looking happier than if they had just won ten-billion dollars, even at this hour of the morning.

She hoped that, someday, she would also be able to find that much happiness.

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Ross tightened his grip around Rachel for the seventeenth time that night, not ever wanting to let go. He too, had never fallen asleep, and he knew that she hadn't either, but he didn't want to start a conversation, knowing that this was as much rest as they were going to get tonight.

Everytime he closed his eyes and started drifting off into unconciousness, images of the past 24 hours flashed through his mind. Chandler lying in a pool of blood on his bedroom floor. Joey cradling him and rocking back and forth with tears streaming down his face. Rachel collapsing to the floor and turning whiter than a ghost. Phoebe never looking more the part of panic. Joey catatonically staring down at Chandler's almost lifeless form with that look of pain on his face. Gripping Chandler's hand so tight in the ambulance that he was afraid it was going to break. Chasing after the paramedics as they rushed Chandler down the hallway. Waiting frantically for everybody else to show up just so he'd have somebody's shoulder to cry on and arms to collapse into. Waiting for the news on Chandler in the uncomfortably white waiting room. Watching hopelessly has Monica walked past them with a look of anger on her face.

Life had never been more confusing. It was like the world was trying to put together a puzzle and they had been given the pieces that just didn't seem to fit together.

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Monica gazed up and around her at the tall, colorful buildings of Times Square. She hadn't been there in so long, it was like going for the first time. It was ever changing. New banners, new colors, new faces, new sounds, new smells, the only thing that stayed the same was the feeling that she was home. This is where she truly belonged. Minneapolis was like a mini-New York. Tall buildings, lots of people, same weather, same noises, but no brother, no free spirited blonde, no best friend, no dim witted actor...no Chandler.

Life wasn't the same, and it seemed that it never would be again. She couldn't get rid of the feeling of guilt that all of this was her fault. If she had just stayed and tried to talk things out with Chandler, he would never have tried to kill himself, everybody would be just the same, and life would have gone on peacefully to the beat of their hearts.

Now life had become one unsteady beat that none of them could keep up with.

Monica plopped down on a bench and watched the people walking by in the wee hours of the morning. Where were they going? What were they doing out this late? Were they happy?

The ground had flipped over and hell had been raised up on their peaceful, innocent lives.

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to be continued...

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Ok, so sorry! I really really wanted to make this one longer, but I just couldn't, without making it more boring. Plus, this seemed like a good place to stop. I'd REALLY like more than 3 reviews this time. PLEASE! Answers as to what the heck is going on are coming, but I need some feedback! I can't get much from what three reviews say. I really need to know what you guys think so I know what direction to go with this so I'm not hated by everybody for writing such a horrible story. Thanks for reading, please review!