Disclaimer: No, I still don't own these characters, etc.
I really apologize for how long it has taken me to put up these chapters. There's an awful lot going on in my life right now, but no worries, this fan fic will be finished someday! (
FEAR Chapter 5: Awakenings
Monica moaned.
Colors swarmed around as images flew by. The wrecked apartment. The note stabbed into the chair with the knife. The sound of the voice on the phone. Chandler's face. The pool of blood on the floor.
Her shriek pulled her back to consciousness as she found herself lying on the bed, Ross at her side. "Monica! Are you okay?" Ross asked, grabbing her hand.
Stunned, she stared at him. "It wasn't a dream, was it? Where's Chandler?"
Ross was silent for a moment. "I don't know."
Monica struggled to get up. "Are the police in there? I have to talk to them. They have to find my husband!"
"Mon, don't get up. I'll get them in here. You've been unconscious for awhile . . . you should probably stay lying down."
Ross left the room, and Monica breathed slowly, trying not to hyperventilate. Had that been Chandler's blood in the kitchen? What if he was . . . dead?
A moment later, Officer Lawson entered the room, followed by Ross, Rachel, Joey, Phoebe, and Mike. "Monica? How are you feeling? I can call for a bus if you think you need to go to the hospital. You've been out for awhile. We were about to do so anyway."
"No. I'm fine, or I will be. . . I just need to know where Chandler is. Please tell me that that isn't his blood in the kitchen," Monica begged.
"We don't know that for sure yet, Monica. They might not be able to tell whose blood it is at all without samples to compare it to. However, they do know that there are two different blood types there. So if one type belongs to Chandler, the other must belong to his attacker."
Monica looked from each of her friend's faces from another; Rachel's tear- stained face, Joey's face, taut with worry, Ross's concerned face, Phoebe's distressed face, and Mike's troubled face. The sight sickened her. "You all think he's dead," she accused. "He's not. He's not!" She began to sob.
"Oh, Mon," Rachel said, bursting into tears again, and coming to hug her friend. "He's going to be fine," she said between sniffles as they cried on one another's shoulder.
"I promise you, Mrs. Bing, we are doing everything possible to find your husband and bring him home safely," Lawson assured her. "We have our best detectives on this case. We also have tapped your phone in case the attacker decides to call."
At that moment, the phone began to ring, and the room turned deadly silent. Then Monica jumped up and ran for the phone.
"Hello?!" she nearly yelled into it when she picked it up.
A cackle greeted her. "I'm looking at your husband right now, Monica. He looks so peaceful when he sleeps."
"What have you done to him?" she screeched into the phone. "Who are you? Where did you take him? GIVE HIM BACK!"
"What makes you so sure he's still alive?"
Monica's breath caught in her throat.
The voice laughed again. "Okay, okay, he's not dead . . . yet. But that little fucker stabbed me. You'll both pay for that. Unfortunately for him, he only managed to stab my arm. He got the worse end of the deal. He'll be out for awhile. But really, you didn't think that I would kill him without making you watch, did you? I just want to see you squirm first. I have a plan for you two."
And before Monica could get out another word, the voice hung up.
Lawson was already on her cell phone. "Were you able to get a trace?" she asked excitedly, and then frowned. "Okay. Thanks. Keep me posted." She snapped her phone shut. "They couldn't get a trace. The call was too short. They did get it on tape though."
Monica began to cry again.
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Elsewhere in NYC, Chandler was slowly awakening to find himself tied to a chair, with a banging headache and a searing pain in his side. He tried to focus his eyes as he struggled to recall what had happened to him and how the hell he'd ended up here. He knew it must've had something to do with the phone calls he and Monica had been getting. Oh my God. Monica.
"Monica?" he yelled. "MONICA?!"
He finally managed to focus on the room he was in and realized he was in an apartment, but certainly not his. He heard someone sigh impatiently and snap, "Shut up, you dumbass. She's not here yet."
He looked up and upon seeing his attacker, suddenly remembered what had happened. "What - why - how," he sputtered.
"You're an idiot," the attacker scoffed. "You're going to have to wait for Monica to get here before I explain why because she's going to want to know, too, and I HATE repeating myself."
Chandler sat back, replaying what had happened. As soon as he'd shut the door after letting his guest in earlier, he had turned to walk into the living room. He had turned back to face his guest just in time to see the person holding one of Monica's frying pans, about to smash it down on his head. He had ducked, and a fight had ensued, but the attacker had won when a knife was pulled and stabbed into his side. Chandler had cried out in pain, but managed to pull the knife back out and stab at the attacker. All he had managed to hit was the attacker's arm before the attacker had smashed the pan into his head, knocking Chandler out cold.
Now his attacker's words were starting to settle in his mind. "What do you mean, Monica's coming here? Leave her out of it! Do what you want to me, but leave my wife alone," he demanded.
The attacker just laughed.
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After Officer Lawson left hours later, promising to have a police car stationed outside of the apartment building all night, Monica decided she needed to try to sleep. "I'm not doing Chandler any good if I can't focus because I'm too tired, and it's almost 3 a.m."
"I'm staying here with you," Ross said immediately. The others followed suit, but Monica shook her head. "Ross is all I need. The rest of you. go home. Get some sleep. I'll call you if I need you." Monica was trying to stay calm now after her outburst earlier, but mentally she was becoming unglued. She knew she wouldn't be able to sleep but she couldn't stand having everyone here anymore. She needed time to herself.
Finally, about 30 minutes later, everyone had left but Ross. Monica got him some blankets and he settled down on the couch as she went into her bedroom. She began to cry again as she laid down into her bed alone, and eventually cried herself to a tortured sleep.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - In the next chapter: The attacker's identity is finally revealed!
I really apologize for how long it has taken me to put up these chapters. There's an awful lot going on in my life right now, but no worries, this fan fic will be finished someday! (
FEAR Chapter 5: Awakenings
Monica moaned.
Colors swarmed around as images flew by. The wrecked apartment. The note stabbed into the chair with the knife. The sound of the voice on the phone. Chandler's face. The pool of blood on the floor.
Her shriek pulled her back to consciousness as she found herself lying on the bed, Ross at her side. "Monica! Are you okay?" Ross asked, grabbing her hand.
Stunned, she stared at him. "It wasn't a dream, was it? Where's Chandler?"
Ross was silent for a moment. "I don't know."
Monica struggled to get up. "Are the police in there? I have to talk to them. They have to find my husband!"
"Mon, don't get up. I'll get them in here. You've been unconscious for awhile . . . you should probably stay lying down."
Ross left the room, and Monica breathed slowly, trying not to hyperventilate. Had that been Chandler's blood in the kitchen? What if he was . . . dead?
A moment later, Officer Lawson entered the room, followed by Ross, Rachel, Joey, Phoebe, and Mike. "Monica? How are you feeling? I can call for a bus if you think you need to go to the hospital. You've been out for awhile. We were about to do so anyway."
"No. I'm fine, or I will be. . . I just need to know where Chandler is. Please tell me that that isn't his blood in the kitchen," Monica begged.
"We don't know that for sure yet, Monica. They might not be able to tell whose blood it is at all without samples to compare it to. However, they do know that there are two different blood types there. So if one type belongs to Chandler, the other must belong to his attacker."
Monica looked from each of her friend's faces from another; Rachel's tear- stained face, Joey's face, taut with worry, Ross's concerned face, Phoebe's distressed face, and Mike's troubled face. The sight sickened her. "You all think he's dead," she accused. "He's not. He's not!" She began to sob.
"Oh, Mon," Rachel said, bursting into tears again, and coming to hug her friend. "He's going to be fine," she said between sniffles as they cried on one another's shoulder.
"I promise you, Mrs. Bing, we are doing everything possible to find your husband and bring him home safely," Lawson assured her. "We have our best detectives on this case. We also have tapped your phone in case the attacker decides to call."
At that moment, the phone began to ring, and the room turned deadly silent. Then Monica jumped up and ran for the phone.
"Hello?!" she nearly yelled into it when she picked it up.
A cackle greeted her. "I'm looking at your husband right now, Monica. He looks so peaceful when he sleeps."
"What have you done to him?" she screeched into the phone. "Who are you? Where did you take him? GIVE HIM BACK!"
"What makes you so sure he's still alive?"
Monica's breath caught in her throat.
The voice laughed again. "Okay, okay, he's not dead . . . yet. But that little fucker stabbed me. You'll both pay for that. Unfortunately for him, he only managed to stab my arm. He got the worse end of the deal. He'll be out for awhile. But really, you didn't think that I would kill him without making you watch, did you? I just want to see you squirm first. I have a plan for you two."
And before Monica could get out another word, the voice hung up.
Lawson was already on her cell phone. "Were you able to get a trace?" she asked excitedly, and then frowned. "Okay. Thanks. Keep me posted." She snapped her phone shut. "They couldn't get a trace. The call was too short. They did get it on tape though."
Monica began to cry again.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - -
Elsewhere in NYC, Chandler was slowly awakening to find himself tied to a chair, with a banging headache and a searing pain in his side. He tried to focus his eyes as he struggled to recall what had happened to him and how the hell he'd ended up here. He knew it must've had something to do with the phone calls he and Monica had been getting. Oh my God. Monica.
"Monica?" he yelled. "MONICA?!"
He finally managed to focus on the room he was in and realized he was in an apartment, but certainly not his. He heard someone sigh impatiently and snap, "Shut up, you dumbass. She's not here yet."
He looked up and upon seeing his attacker, suddenly remembered what had happened. "What - why - how," he sputtered.
"You're an idiot," the attacker scoffed. "You're going to have to wait for Monica to get here before I explain why because she's going to want to know, too, and I HATE repeating myself."
Chandler sat back, replaying what had happened. As soon as he'd shut the door after letting his guest in earlier, he had turned to walk into the living room. He had turned back to face his guest just in time to see the person holding one of Monica's frying pans, about to smash it down on his head. He had ducked, and a fight had ensued, but the attacker had won when a knife was pulled and stabbed into his side. Chandler had cried out in pain, but managed to pull the knife back out and stab at the attacker. All he had managed to hit was the attacker's arm before the attacker had smashed the pan into his head, knocking Chandler out cold.
Now his attacker's words were starting to settle in his mind. "What do you mean, Monica's coming here? Leave her out of it! Do what you want to me, but leave my wife alone," he demanded.
The attacker just laughed.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
After Officer Lawson left hours later, promising to have a police car stationed outside of the apartment building all night, Monica decided she needed to try to sleep. "I'm not doing Chandler any good if I can't focus because I'm too tired, and it's almost 3 a.m."
"I'm staying here with you," Ross said immediately. The others followed suit, but Monica shook her head. "Ross is all I need. The rest of you. go home. Get some sleep. I'll call you if I need you." Monica was trying to stay calm now after her outburst earlier, but mentally she was becoming unglued. She knew she wouldn't be able to sleep but she couldn't stand having everyone here anymore. She needed time to herself.
Finally, about 30 minutes later, everyone had left but Ross. Monica got him some blankets and he settled down on the couch as she went into her bedroom. She began to cry again as she laid down into her bed alone, and eventually cried herself to a tortured sleep.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - In the next chapter: The attacker's identity is finally revealed!