AN: Sorry I haven't updated in so long! There was a class trip, and graduation crap, and my birthday(!). I've been having a lot of trouble with this chapter, but it is longer! And there's probably just gonna be one more after this, with maybe an epilogue.

Chapter 6- In Which There Are Multitudes of Awkward Silences

Working Titles: In Which Monica Is A Wax Figurine, In Which Everyone Finds Out.

"So all that's going on is that you broke up with Kathy?" Monica asked once she had dragged him inside and forced some semblance of an explanation out of him. She sounded a little angry, which didn't bode well for the unavoidable conversation. Neither did the fact that, well, she had apparently gotten the impression that the only problem was that he had broken up with Kathy. He had basically just murmured that he and Kathy had broken up- hence the usage of the word 'semblance.' "Why didn't you just tell us a week go?"

"Um, well you see, I- that is, there wasn't a good time."

"A good time! Of course not, Chandler- the six of us only hang out (or should I use the past tense) every day!"

If Phoebe and Ross could just find Joey and Rachel and get them back here….Chandler was beginning to reconsider the merits of telling everyone at once. He didn't think he could handle another minute of her yelling at him. Maybe he could just tell her now:

'Monica, that's not all. I'm waiting for the results of my blood test.'

'What blood test?'

'I may have leukemia.'

He would cry, she would cry, and everyone would be miserable, but at least they'd be miserable together.

"Chandler! Chandler, are you even listening to me! This is our friendship, and I know you're upset about Kathy, but can't we just talk about it?"

Yes. Talk. Perfect. He would tell her why Kathy had, in a word, dumped him, and then all the stupid avoidance of topics would be, well, avoided.

Here goes.

"The circumstances were less than perfect, because, um, because she- uh, the particulars…." Chandler trailed off and stared at her, noting that that sentence hadn't in fact, finished itself. And unfinished, it didn't exactly give off the impression that he had leukemia; rather that he needed to be put in a mental institution.

Monica stared at him expectantly, head tilted slightly to the side. Chandler swallowed, discovering that his mouth was completely dry, and that he was somehow out of breath. He had no desire to continue, but had the feeling that Monica wouldn't appreciate it if he nipped down the street to get a Coke.

"Look, Mon, I just- I just-" He trailed off again, hoping that Monica's imagination will fill in an explanation so he wouldn't have to. The expectant look hardened slightly. Hm. He wished he'd thought far enough to know how to finish that sentence.

"Well, Kathy, you know, she's a lot like me. I mean, I don't like to have sex with anyone who's sick, and she- she feels the same." Not the perfect opening, but it would suffice. He was after all, potentially….terminally sick. "We've got a lot in common. I mean, her parents are divorced, and so are mine. Of course, her dad's not gay, and he's never had sex with the pool boy- she never had a pool boy, actually-" Okay, so he apparently wasn't going to take it.

'Just stop talking right now,' Chandler sent that message furiously to his brain, but it was intercepted somehow, probably by his masochistic neurosis. "She grew up here in Manhattan, so she didn't have a pool at all. And you don't exactly need a pool boy if you don't have a pool boy. So really-"

"Chandler," Monica finally snapped. "What are you talking about? Why did you and Kathy break up?" Chandler just stared at his tennis shoes. When she spoke again, her voice was softer. "It's not really about Kathy, is it, Chandler?"

"Well, no," Chandler began awkwardly, wondering if there was any possible way to change the subject without her noticing. "So, where is everyone?"

"Don't change the damned subject," Monica spat, looking dangerously close to tears for the second time that day. "Just don't."

There was another one of those unfortunately-now-familiar awkward silences. Chandler figured that the more you hated any kind of awkwardness, the more there was.

"I have leukemia," Chandler blurted without any intention of doing so, and in fact it took him a few moments to realize that the words had come out of his own mouth. He had sounded disturbingly cheerful in a false, flight-attendant way, and….wait? Wasn't he supposed to say, 'Might?' 'I might have leukemia?'

When Chandler finally gathered the courage to look up, Monica was staring at him, one shaking hand brought to her mouth.

"You have- you have leukemia?"

"Well, maybe. As in maybe I do- and- and maybe I don't," Chandler responded. The room was annoyingly out-of focus, and Chandler wanted to shut his eyes or sit down. But, somehow, he didn't think it would be wise to let Monica see him collapse for the second time that day, directly after she found out he might be diseased.

"I may have leukemia." There. It was short and simple; he hadn't just blurted it out, and there was no stalling and spluttering like the Delorean he'd owned in high school. And now leaving out important words, either. Maybe he'd be able to sound pleasant by the time he got around to telling his parents.

"What- what do you mean, you may have leukemia?" Joey asked, horrified.

"I mean, like I may have, well, leukemia. It seems pretty self-explanatory, if you ask me," Chandler responded weakly.

"That is not what he meant," Phoebe snapped, more due to the anxiety that Chandler had caused with this one simple statement than anything else. "I meant, like, how can you? You just can't have- you…." Phoebe trailed off miserably, and abruptly buried her face in her hands.

"Okay, the sad part of that was, I actually understood that," Chandler joked awkwardly. He tried not to notice that no one seemed ready to say anything further.

Rachel drew a shaky breath, got up, and crossed the room to where Chandler was sitting, kneeling down to hug him fiercely.

Monica smiled faintly from her place by the kitchen as she watched Chandler and Rachel embrace. The slightly warm feeling, despite the situation, was almost immediately swept away in the next moment- why hadn't she thought to comfort Chandler when he needed it most? Monica shook her head, disgusted with herself. Instead, she had just stood there- stiff and emotionless, like a wax figure.

Monica almost groaned aloud as she remembered that she hadn't, in fact, just stood there. She had in fact, asked, "So you and Kathy didn't break up?" Why the hell had she said that? Now Chandler would think she was a deranged lunatic with a highly selective memory and the emotional range of a teaspoon.

The bottom line was, she just had to prove to him that she cared; that she understood how hard this was for him and that she would stand by him.

"Mon, these waffles are really good," Joey said awkwardly, before stuffing a whole one into his mouth. Phoebe grimaced, averting her eyes. Everyone was making an attempt at a normal breakfast over at Monica and Rachel's apartment, but after greetings had been exchanged, no one seemed to have anything to say.

Phoebe had regaled them with an anecdote about how her alternate self, Phohonda, was doing, but all that had accomplished was a slight panicked feeling as Chandler realized that none of the responses that came into mind seemed remotely funny or clever.

Ross sighed, flicking a tine of his fork absently. He was possibly the only one with an alibi- he did have a job, after all, and no one had to know that he didn't have to be there until eleven. However, Monica had gathered everyone together and asked them to pretend that everything was normal.

"So," Monica said abruptly in a business-like tone, causing everyone to jump. Ross' fork clattered to the floor. "I looked up leukemia on the Internet, and, really, many forms of leukemia can be very easily treated. After all, it is the ninety's!"

Okay, do apparently, she had decided to discard Plan A and go with B- in which awkward pauses were replaced by mortified ones.

The world froze. Chandler stared at is plate, suddenly fascinated by the way the syrup filled the squares in the homemade waffles. No ready-made batter for Monica Geller. No beating around the bush, either.

He cleared his throat unnecessarily. "That's good to know." Chandler thought back to the annoying pamphlets, garish in their own cheerfulness, lying crumpled somewhere in the wormhole that was his room. Now Monica knew more about what he might be facing than he did. Chandler glanced furtively around the table, suddenly paranoid that they had all looked up the disease, and were even now drawing lots over who would accompany him to chemotherapy.

Not that they would even be able to look it up. None of them even had a computer. Speaking of which….Rachel seemed to be thinking along the same lines.

"Hey, Mon?" she asked warily, "Where would you be able to get Internet access?"

"Oh, Mr. Heckles has it," Monica said off-handedly, ignoring the astounded looks she was getting. "Now, there are several types. One of them, CLL, can be controlled effectively with medication and may require little to no treatment in it's early stages."

Maybe it was because of the almost proud way in which she stated the facts; or simply the utter hopelessness the situation seemed to hold. For whatever reason, Chandler felt an anger burning in the back of his throat.

"So it'll be just like taking my vitamins," he intoned sarcastically. "D'you think they'll come in a Flintstone bottle!" The last part came out in a hiss, and as soon as they left his mouth he wanted to retract them. Monica's face took on a hurt expression, which she masked immediately.

"I'm sorry," she said in a voice Chandler hadn't heard since she'd broken up with Richard. "I shouldn't have brought it up and ruined your- your day."

She retreated to her room, and Chandler stared after her. He glanced around at everyone else, but they seemed particularly interested in the designs printed on the china plates. "Excuse me," he said as he stood up, pausing to dump his plate in the sink before heading after her.

He hesitated at the door, unsure of whether or not to knock, but, figuring he would barge in even if she told him to go away, he pushed the door open and slipped noiselessly into the room.

Monica was sprawled on the bed, hands covering her face. She hadn't even bothered to take off her shoes, which was worrying, and she didn't look up as he shut the door with a click, or when he sat on the edge of the bed.

Monica breathed in the smell of her own soap on her hands. Truthfully, the action was causing her to feel suffocated, but also wasn't prepared to take remove her hands from her face. Even if she kept her eyes closed, Monica was sure she would be able to feel Chandler's accusing stare on her. Because it was definitely Chandler, and he had every reason to be staring at her accusingly. Monica was furious at herself. What she had said…she was already acting as though he had leukemia!

"Mon." He touched her gently on the wrist, and she finally gathered the courage to look up at him through her fingers. To her surprise, his blue-gray eyes simply held concern- for her. Chandler shouldn't be worried about her! She should be comforting him, not falling to pieces because of a mistake she had made.

This though in mind, she sat up fully and smiled warily at him, pulling him into a hug when she received a go-ahead returning smile. Well, that was the plan, anyway. As it turned out, his warm arms encircling her made it feel more like he was reassuring her…again! Monica found she didn't really care.

They sat together, Monica with her head nestled carefully in his collar. She couldn't resist breathing in his scent, at first only to make sure that he didn't smell of cigarette smoke. What she didn't expect was for him to smell so…addicting. He smelled of a combination of scents, so thoroughly blended together that she couldn't separate one from another. But it definitely had an overtone of…mangos? Monica couldn't help think that she could spend her entire life trying to decipher his scent.

Or would she have to settle for his entire life?

"All right?" Chandler whispered in the shell of his ear, and it wasn't until then that she realized that she was crying.

AN: Hope that was enough Mondler…well, can you call it mush if it's this angsty? Please review!