A/N: Once again, thank you for all of the wonderful reviews! I love each and every one of you who even bother to read this J And if these chapters don't come up as soon as I'd like them to… well, I'm trying, but I have so much work, and serious… issues… I'm trying to work out. But I'm going to continue posting regularly, only 'cause I love ya guys ;) Please continue reviewing! Also, this chapter is dedicated to Becca, because she's one of the very few people who cares and understands me. And she sure did help a whole lot when I needed it. Thanks, Becca J

Warning: Mild violence in this chapter. Also, some swearing. Nothing huge or anything. But anyone younger than 13… well, you shouldn't be reading this anyway cause it's rated PG-13!

Chapter Four

Choosing to ignore the silent assignment given to the class, Monica looked out the window to the right of her and sighed. Yellow, red, and brown leaves fell from the trees, and fall was apparent in the skies. Wind howled against the thin glass of the windows, and Monica felt a chill creep up her spine.

She hated the fall. The fall always reminded her of death, and she wasn't too open to killing and dying. It was as if God was telling them, "Okay, so you had a beautiful spring and summer, now I'm going to take it all away." Why not just keep the flowers and the trees, why not keep the warm sunshine and the white clouds? Fall was the time everything turned brown and crisp, gray and dark. And the worst part was that Monica had no control over what was happening. She couldn't just say, "Hey, you, trees, stay green. And you, flowers, keep blooming." All she could do was watch it happen right before her eyes. Monica looked away from the window and shut her eyes tight.

She couldn't just say, "Hey, you, Mom, don't do that. Hey, you, Dad, don't say that!" She couldn't just yell, at the top of her lungs, "Hey, you, town, don't say that! Hey, you, Mom, stop doing that!" She had to watch, or endure, the events and their consequences. She couldn't stop what happened over 18 years ago, or stop what was going on in the present. She had to take it all in and continue to live. Well, maybe not live. She had to continue to be alive, anyway. But she did have another option, an option that would be very welcome to her if Chandler wasn't in her life. But Chandler was, so it wasn't an option anymore.

Her life was an endless cycle of fall, trees getting stripped of their leaves, the sky's blue replaced with gray.

"Monica?"

Monica had to snap out of her thoughts, open her eyes. She looked up, where Mr. Lanzer, their algebra teacher, stood with his hands on his hips. She slightly smiled. "Um, yes?"

"You're not sleeping, are you?"

Monica quickly shook her head. "No, not sleeping, no! I – I guess I just drifted off into my thoughts without realizing it," she replied.

"Well, why don't you drift back in and do the assignment given to you?"

Monica nodded, so Mr. Lanzer walked back to his desk and continued to grade papers. But Monica merely pretended to be writing, her thoughts drifting her off once more.

* * *

It rained for a week, stopping only at night, when no one was awake, when no one would know. Like a worker who sneaks a break when no one's looking. The constant gloom and clouds and drum of raindrops dampened everyone's moods. Children looked out their windows, waiting, hoping, for sun, while teenagers locked themselves in their rooms, listening to the radio and talking on the phone, ignoring the dire consequences if the lightning striking outside hit a wire. Parents hung themselves low, keeping away from their children and trying to brighten their own days.

Then there came the Gellar household.

The two teenagers inside the small, whitewashed house tried to dodge by their mom and her unusually dampened mood. One got away. The other had to just stand there and let her mother stand there and yell at her. Had to endure the pain given when slapped across the cheekbone. Had no choice but to double over in pain when punched hard in the stomach. Had to listen to the laughter echo in her ears. Had to smell the stench of too much alcohol in her mother's breath.

Then, that very rare moment when she did get away from the torture, she called the one person who would care.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice concerned.

"Nothing," she answered, not wanting him to worry.

"Monica, I know something's wrong, so stop trying to avoid telling me. You're stuck now."

"I can't get away."

"From the house?"

"From everything."

"Are you okay? It sounds like you're having trouble breathing."

And she was having trouble breathing, a lot of trouble. Numerous blows in the stomach caused her to gasp for breath, while the worries stored up in her made it hurt to breathe. "No, I'm fine."

He didn't sound like he believed her, but he let the subject go, knowing how touchy she was around it. So instead, he asked, "What are you doing today?"

"I can't do anything," she instantly replied. She sighed and slowly laid her head down on her bed, careful not to let her wounded arm touch anything hard, trying to keep the pain in her stomach bearable. Tears from both pain and fear were apparent in her eyes, and she was glad Chandler couldn't see her at that moment. She looked, in her opinion, pathetic.

"I want to see you," he told her, as Monica buried her face in her pillow.

"I don't want you to see me," she replied in a muffled voice.

There was a pause. "Monica?" His voice was barely a whisper.

"Yeah?"

"Did… your mom hit you again?"

Monica shut her eyes tight. She didn't answer. Instead, she listened to the rain outside, the constant rhythm of "tut-tuttering" onto her roof. She listened to a sudden roll of thunder, and couldn't help but notice how perfectly the weather outside matched her life at the moment. Her silence answered his question just as much as her saying it loud and clear.

"Mon, please, I want to help in any way possible. Let me-"

"There's nothing anyone can do," she muttered. "I'm used to it, and soon you will be, too."

"I'll never be used to you getting hurt in any way. I can't stand it."

"You're going to have to."

"Mon, come on, just-"

Monica didn't want to hear it. So she hung up the phone.

* * *

When he entered through the window, his clothes were dripping wet. His hair drooped down from the moisture, and small portions of rain still dripped down his face. For a second or two he just stood there, looking at Monica, seeing her bloodshot eyes, her bandaged arm, her bruised face, how she was curled up so the pain wouldn't been too immense. He stood there and stared straight into her eyes. Through his eyes, he told her how sorry he was for her, how much he wished he could do something. And Monica's eyes told him she wished he could do something, too.

"What are you doing here?" she managed to murmur through her heavy breathing. Chandler finally moved from his position by the window and walked over to her.

"I wanted to see if you were okay."

"I don't want you to see me like this."

Before Chandler could answer, a bolt of lighting ripped through the sky. Instantly, the lights went out and everything went dark. Through the obscurity, Monica let tears fall down her face freely.

"Well, right now I can't see you at all," Chandler quipped. Monica smiled through the darkness. Tears continued to stream.

"You don't need to be here." Her voice quivered, and Chandler could hear.

"I want to." He walked over to her bed and sat down on it, forgetting he was drenched. Monica didn't comment, or even care, so he reached his hand out to try and find Monica's face. When he was finally successful, he touched her bruise, and Monica winced. "Okay, this isn't going to be easy, us not being able to see and all."

"Nothing's ever easy."

Chandler sighed. "I need to know you're okay."

"I'm never okay. No one is ever okay. Nothing is ever okay."

There was silence for a second time.

"I can help you."

"I wish you could."

And silence a third time.

"Just tell me what I could do."

"Promise me you'll never leave me. That's all you can do right now."

"That's an easy promise."

"And promise, when they find out, that you won't…"

"I won't."

Then the lights flickered back on, and he saw her teary face, how completely terrified she was of what was to come one day from now, one week from now, years from now. He looked at her ruefully, and slowly, carefully, pulled her into a hug. She didn't object. Instead, she took her petite hands and placed them around Chandler's body. She closed her eyes and buried her face in his shoulder.

"As long as you're with me, Chandler, I'll be okay," she said, her face still buried. They pulled apart, and Chandler smiled that warming smile of his, the one reserved just for Monica.

"Ditto."

Monica averted her eyes to Chandler's arms. When Monica looked down at his hands, she finally realized there was something that his hands wrapped around. She looked at his face, and smiled. "What're you holding?"

Chandler looked down at his own hands, slightly startled from the sudden question. He shrugged, and handed over a book to her. She looked at it, confused. "Our journals. I wrote mine this past week, when I didn't see you at all. Besides school, but that doesn't count, cause we didn't talk."

Monica nodded and smiled. She opened the book, but Chandler quickly closed it.

"You can't look at it until I'm gone," he said.

"Whatever," Monica replied, a small smile still plastered on her face. "Um, I would have written in yours, but I kind of… forgot about it."

"That is not a problem." He smiled, and gently kissed Monica's lips. "Just don't let it happen again."

"Yes, sir."

Chandler beamed. "I loverr you."

Monica laughed. "I loverr you, too."

* * *

October 8

To my love Monica,

Hey, babe! J I miss you more than anything. I haven't talked to you in what seems like ages. I know it's just been days, but whatever. I'm sure you're not writing in yours, though, because you probably forgot. Don't I know you just too well?

Right now, I'm in my room, waiting for you to call. Call, Monica! I want to talk to you; I miss that wonderful, angel-type voice of yours. I'm guessing right now you're waiting for me to call. But here I am, writing in a diary. And yeah, I know, it was my idea.

Mon, I'm feeling so many different things right now. I want to tell the town about us. I really, really do. But how will they react, Mon? We're so… different. Not in a bad way, mind you. In a wonderful way. But I'm just afraid they won't see it in the wonderful way that I do. What will they do? I don't want to be the center of rumors for months, and I know you don't, either. I don't want other people ruining what we have. It's been going great, in my opinion, and I don't want that to change. I'm afraid that they'll break us apart. And yeah, love overcomes all obstacles. But… it's hard. I like the paradise we're in, I don't want that to change even a little bit. Then comes the question, what if they're cool with it? Then we're worrying for nothing. But there are three people that will not like the idea of us 100%… our moms, and my dad. Granted, my dad's running a gay show in Vegas, but he still won't be happy about it! Man, I don't like this… conflict we're in.

But we'll tell them, I promise. We can get through anything, right? Cause we love each other.

All of my love, now and forever,

The Chan Chan Man

* * *

October 10

To my one and only, Chandler,

I decided to write in this now, before I forget about it. Hello! I miss you, even though I saw you yesterday. It's still raining, I'm sick of the sound. Ever wonder why it hasn't flooded yet? Maybe tomorrow there'll be sun. In the words of Annie, "The sun will come out… tomorrow!" I just watched that musical for the 100th time today.

Alas, it's finally Friday tomorrow! I'm looking forward to seeing you Saturday. I miss hanging out at our spot, it's the only time we can actually be together. We'd better bring something for the rain, though, cause right now I'm thinking it's never going to stop. Remember that story "All Summer In a Day"? When the kids lived on Venus, and it rained 24/7? I'd never be able to live there, never in a million years. I hate the rain! (Sorry I'm so pessimistic right now, I hear my mom yelling into the phone).

About what you said in the journal about telling. Well, you really scared me. I never thought that they'd turn on us for being together. Well, them meaning the town, not my mom. I knew she would. But… Chandler, now I'm terrified. I want to tell, but I don't want to make your life hell. What if they don't respond well? What if they all back-stab us for being… happy, in love?

It doesn't matter. I finally decided that. Just now. Because we love each other more than life itself, and that's enough. I know it is. It always is. So I say we let our love be our shield.

All of my mind, heart, and soul,

Your Little Harmonica

* * *

On that Friday morning, something incredible happened to that small town; the sun came out. Suddenly, everyone's moods suddenly became brighter, and no one was dampened anymore. Children ran playfully to school, playing tag along the way, while teens smiled and greeted their friends joyously. Adults drove to work, letting the cars in front of them pass, just because.

Funny, how no one fully appreciates something until it's been gone for a while.

* * *

He hated these moments.

He just stood there, silent, his hands clenched into fists in his pockets. He couldn't do anything about it, because they didn't know anything. He couldn't fight for her, because they didn't know. They didn't know, they don't know, maybe they'll never know. He had to nod along, pretending to laugh and smile at the cruel jokes that came out of his best friend's lips. And Chandler reminded himself, each time, that he didn't know. He didn't know, that was his excuse.

It happened often, each time ripping Chandler apart more and more. But they were never as bad as what was going on before him at that instant. He never heard such inferior words escape his best friend, never actually thought he saw flames in Joey's eyes. But this time flames were burning up in there. And Chandler led himself to wonder, what did Monica do that was so horrible? Why wouldn't anyone get to know her before they judged her?

"She's a bitch," Joey muttered, in the center of the circle of guys that Chandler thought were his friends. They don't know. The guys laughed, nodding along, agreeing. "She's a horny bitch, the town's whore!" They laughed again. Chandler forced a smile, and it physically hurt him, just as well as emotionally.

"And why does she want all this attention?" someone called from the back of the group. Joey smiled.

"Help me, help me, my mother's a drunk and she hits me!" he said, mimicking Monica's voice. "Help me, my daddy is dead, and I can't do anything about it! I have an oh-so-terrible life, so I think the world should center around me. Everyone hates me! I think the universe should care only about me!" Snickers and laughs were heard everywhere around him. "Help me, my mother dragged me down in the mud! Now I need some sexin' up! Who wants to fuck me, step in line!" Howls of laughter echoed in his ears. "Somebody, please, fuck me!" More laughter.

Chandler's head was red by now, and tears were about to come. He took his fists out of his pockets and clenched them tighter. Joey said something else, but Chandler was too furious to hear.

"I'm going to die a horny bitch!" Joey yelled, his voice still mocking, at the top of his lungs. More and more laughter, cruel laughter, insane laughter.

Suddenly, Chandler's fist flew across Joey's jaw, and he fell to the ground. Chandler stepped over Joey, looking down at him. His eyes were raged. "Stop it, stop it, stop it!" The laughter stopped.

Joey slowly stood up, shocked, and looked at Chandler. He protectively rubbed his jaw with his hand, trying to ease the pain. "What was that for? You can agree that she's a b-"

His fist hit Joey's jaw a second time, and he fell to the floor once more. Chandler stood on top of Joey, so he couldn't get up. Joey looked up at Chandler, hurt and panic mixed in his eyes. He backed away, still on the ground.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Joey gasped out. He quickly stood up before Chandler could stop him. He was inches away from Chandler, his eyes narrowed. Chandler's eyes matched Joey's.

"You don't even know her," he whispered, his voice hard and cold. Joey's expression was blank for a few seconds. Then, suddenly, his eyes showed realization. Then they hardened once more.

"I know what she is," Joey whispered coldly.

Chandler's clenched fist hit Joey in the stomach, causing him to bend over. Chandler took Joey's arms and pulled them behind his back, causing Joey to gasp. "Take it back!"

Joey spun around and freed himself from Chandler's grip. He took his own fist and hit Chandler hard across the face. "She's a whore, even she knows it."

On the ground from the impact, Chandler swung his legs, hitting Joey's ankles and causing him to fall hard on the concrete below. "She's the most wonderful person I've known," Chandler said in a hushed voice, still cold.

"She makes me sick."

Abruptly, both of them stood from the ground and began clawing at each other. The guys surrounding them simply gaped in both shock and horror as the two best friends punched each other in the faces, stomachs, and arms, kicked each other in the shins, knees, and legs. Blood spurt from their mouths as cuts gashed across their skin. They continued to whisper hateful words to each other, continued to knock each other around.

Until Joey hit Chandler right near the heart, incredibly forcefully, and everything around him went black.

And then the clouds hovered above them burst, and it began to rain once more.

To Be Continued…

Ah, finally finished with this chapter! I read this over, and it seems really… dark. Anyway, please, please, please review to tell me if you want me to continue or not. And I'm really sorry if this chapter was horrible. If everyone hated it, I'll rewrite it so it's… I don't know, better. Again, please review, whether it's to tell me you loved it or that you hated it. And Becca… I'll give you extra points if you can find our little 'word' in this story! ;) And thanks for all the reviews for the other chapter, guys, they're really appreciated. Keep 'em coming, please!