Monica slung her arm through the handles of the plastic grocery bags and put her key in the lock. She turned it with very little resistance, meaning it was already unlocked. Thinning her lips, she opened the door to see Chandler and Ross sitting on the couch watching reruns of Happy Days.

She put the bags on the kitchen counter and folded her arms across her chest. "What are you guys doing here?"

"Aaaayyyyyy", Chandler said. Ross held out his fist in a thumbs-up posture. Neither took their eyes from the television.

"Out out out," Monica said crossly. "My new roommate is going to be here any second."

This got their attention. Ross turned his head to look at her as Chandler shut off the television. "Do we get to meet her?"

"Not right now! I don't want her to run away screaming before she actually moves in. It's best I ease her into introductions."

"See!" Chandler looked at Ross. "I told you those women at the video store weren't an isolated incident!"

"Ha ha." Ross stood up along with Chandler. "All right. Chandler, wanna play some pool at the bar?"

"Sure, but let me grab a paper bag to put over my head first. Wouldn't want the ladies to be overwhelmed by my hideousness."

"Good point," Ross agreed with mock seriousness. "Get one for me, too."

Monica decided enough was enough. "Okay, done talking, out now! I'll ask her if she wants to have dinner with you all tomorrow."

They left easily enough, somewhat to Monica's surprise. She closed the door and looked around the apartment, searching for signs of newly-created messes. Nothing was readily apparent, so she quickly unpacked the groceries - stocking up for her roommate so she wouldn't have to worry about shopping for food right away. Monica then went into the living room and carefully moved some of the furniture back, creating a clear pathway from the door to the empty bedroom.

She was just considering covering the doorjambs with newspaper to prevent scuffs when the intercom buzzed. Monica ran over and pressed a button. "Hello?"

"Hi, it's Phoebe, I'm here to move in."

"Come on up." Monica buzzed her in, then stood somewhat nervously in front of the door.

Very soon there was a knocking on the door. Monica pulled it open, putting a smile on her face. "Hello, and welcome."

"Hi!" Phoebe stood with a duffel bag slung over her shoulder, along with her purse. She stepped in, looking around with a huge smile on her face.

Monica left the door open and followed Phoebe as she went into her new room. Phoebe stepped inside and seemed to do a two-second jig. Then she set the duffel bag down, reached into her purse, and pulled out a check. "Here."

"Thanks." Monica took it, noticing that it was drawn on the name of Phoebe's employer and made to cash. She walked out into the living room and found her own purse. She put the check in her own checkbook and made a notation in her appointment book to deposit it on her way to work.

This took a couple of minutes, and in that time, Phoebe didn't leave her room. Monica frowned at the still-open apartment door, then walked back to Phoebe's bedroom. "Need any help with your stuff?"

Phoebe was busy pulling things out of her duffel bag. "No thanks."

Monica watched as Phoebe created little piles of clothing, jewelry, cosmetics, and other necessities. Monica's frown deepened. "Do you have any furniture?"

"Well, of course I do." Phoebe lifted up the blanket she had extracted.

"Uh, anything else?"

"Oh, this too." She lifted up a pillow.

"Is that all?"

"Oh, how silly, and this." Phoebe held out a toothbrush.

Monica stared at it somewhat cross-eyed. "Uh, do you have a bed?"

"A bed." Phoebe considered this for a moment. Then her eyes lit up. "I should get a bed!"

A terrible suspicion settled over Monica. "Phoebe, besides the things you brought in your duffel bag - and purse - do you have anything else that needs to be brought into the apartment?"

"Um..." Phoebe thought this over for a few seconds. "No."

Monica looked at the piles Phoebe had been creating. "You don't own anything else?"

"Well, you know, ownership is a kind of overrated thing anyway."

"Did... did you leave all your furniture at home?"

Phoebe flinched. "Yes, it's at home. Where home used to be seven, eight... ten?... years ago. I don't... I... it's going to stay there forever."

"Oh." Monica watched as Phoebe arranged the blanket and pillow on the hard wooden floors. If Phoebe had left home that long ago, she couldn't have been very old at the time. "Where did you sleep after you moved away from home?"

"Oh, here and there. The park, the library. An AMC Gremlin for a while." Phoebe grinned at Monica. "This is the best place ever. Ever ever."

"Yes, I, I can imagine. Excuse me."

Monica walked back out into the living room and crossed over to the front door. Gently she closed and locked it, then went back into the living room to rearrange the furniture.

All the while feeling slightly in shock. Of all the possibilities she'd ever imagined in acquiring a new roommate, it had never occurred to her that she'd be taking in homeless runaway. Suddenly Chandler's joke about severed heads seemed a lot less funny.

It couldn't be too late, could it? Pretend that the check had bounced, order her out, get the police to help if necessary, call Meghan back, beg her to come move in as quickly as possible.

Phoebe walked into the living room, arms clasped in front of her. Monica was instantly on her guard, suddenly wishing she hadn't ordered Ross and Chandler to leave. "So... all settled in?"

"Uh huh." Phoebe wandered over to the window. "Look, the naked man is doing jumping jacks."

Monica walked up beside her. She felt a desperate need to say something, anything. "Jumping jacks are a total waste. They're not good exercise at all, even for aerobics."

"But it's fun!" Phoebe did two jumping jacks herself, as if to demonstrate.

Monica tried not to encourage her. "And he shouldn't be doing them in front of his window."

"I think it's cute," Phoebe said with an endearing smile.

Monica turned away, unable to continue that conversation, and sat down on the couch. Phoebe sat on the love seat, grinning. "This is neat! A chair I can sit in without a security guard looking at me."

"Uh, yeah." Monica was floundering badly. "I, I hope you feel comfortable here. There are some things you should know."

"Sure." Phoebe leaned forward, her expression one of rapt attention.

"Uh... okay, I work second shift mostly. My schedule's quite variable; I'll post it on the refrigerator."

"Oh. I work, uh, when there's work, I try to go in every day and see if they need me, and usually they do, but not always, and then I borrow Armless Ed's guitar and play in the subway for a while. I have lots of tokens if you ever need one."

Monica blinked. "Armless Ed's guitar?"

"He says his arms don't really exist, that they're just an extension of his psychic power. His hands are real, though."

"Oh." Monica tried to refocus herself. "Also, I've given the key to my... our apartment to a couple of other people. My brother Ross, and Chandler who lives across the hall. I've invited Chandler and his roommate Kip to help themselves to breakfast every morning, but if you don't want them over in the morning I'll understand. And feel free to tell them to leave whenever."

"Is Chandler a boy or a girl?"

"Um... a boy."

"Cute?"

"Not so you'd really notice."

"Well, if they're your friends then they can come over any time." Phoebe smiled. "I hope I get to meet them soon."

"I've invited everyone over to dinner tomorrow, if you'd like to meet them."

"Tomorrow's Sunday, right? That's fine." Phoebe stood up. "Is it all right if I take a shower?"

Monica furrowed her brow. "Phoebe... it's your bathroom, too. You can take a shower any time you want to."

"Oh." Phoebe blushed slightly. "Is it all right if I keep my shampoo in there?"

"Yes."

"And my makeup?"

"Of course."

"And-"

"Anything, Phoebe. Just please try to keep everything neat."

"Okay." Phoebe paused for a moment, her face blank. Then she smiled at Monica and walked into her bedroom.

Monica took the opportunity to escape into her own bedroom. She quickly changed into her work clothes, and when she heard the bathroom door close, the almost sprinted to the front door.

Since she had plenty of time Monica decided to walk to the bank and then to work. And try to clear her mind. Living with Phoebe was going to take some very careful adjustments, and she had to be sure she could make them before this went on too much longer.

The city was different at half-past two in the morning. Monica walked briskly from the subway, keeping a keen eye out. She wasn't necessarily paranoid, and the neighborhood didn't really frighten her even at night. But she knew she to keep her guard up because anything was possible.

She made it to the apartment without difficulty and quickly made her way upstairs. She opened the apartment door quietly, a habit she hadn't shed even after Nana had left for Florida.

For at least two seconds her heart hammered in her throat, for a tall dark shape was wandering around the kitchen. Then she saw that the dark shape had long blonde hair and she relaxed. She closed and locked the door. "Hello," she called out softly.

Phoebe didn't respond, continuing to pace the kitchen. Monica noticed that she seemed to be walking towards the oven, then away from it, then back to it, the only source of light coming through the windows from the streetlamps outside.

Monica frowned in the direction of the light switch, wondering if she should turn them on. She blew out a breath and walked to the edge of the kitchen area. "Phoebe?"

"It's horrible, the smell is horrible."

Monica blinked. She inhaled through her nose. "I don't smell anything."

"It chokes, it smothers, it fills your nose and mouth and lungs." Phoebe spoke in a quiet, distracted voice, and her pacing quickened slightly. "It's coming from the oven."

"Phoebe, this is an electric oven. It doesn't burn gas."

"It does if you blow out the pilot light. It does if you kneel in front of it." Phoebe opened the oven door and quickly closed it. "Why did you kneel in front of it?"

"I, I didn't. I'm right here, Phoebe."

"You knelt in front of it and blew out the pilot light. And the smell came and it was everywhere." Phoebe was beginning to sound more and more agitated. "And Ursula went to check, and she came and got me, and I had to see you, and your face was all red and you were looking at me, your eyes were open and you were saying, why did I have a daughter like you, why did you make me kneel in front of this oven, why did you blow out the pilot light, why-"

Monica felt her stomach twist sharply. She stepped forward and grabbed Phoebe by the arms, forcing her to stand still. "Enough. This is not a gas oven, there is no smell, there's no one named Ursula here. It's me. Monica. You remember Monica?"

Phoebe was looking over at the oven, and while she wasn't trying to break free, Monica could feel a steady pressure as if Phoebe was still drawn towards it. "I had to get away, the smell was everywhere, I couldn't... and then, and then I found a new place to stay, it's a nice place with a nice woman, you'd like her, her name is Monica. But I scare her. The more we talk, the more she doesn't want to talk, and the more she sees who I am, the more she wants to kneel in front of the oven and blow out the pilot light."

The words hit Monica like a blow. "Phoebe! Phoebe, look at me." She shook her slightly. "Look at me!"

Slowly, with seeming reluctance, Phoebe met her eyes.

Now that she had her attention, Monica had no idea what to say. She just started saying whatever came to mind. "This is not a gas-burning oven. I am not going to kill myself. Do you hear me? I am not going to kill myself, ever. I'm glad you moved in, I'm glad you're my roommate. You're different from what I expected, that's all."

Phoebe seemed to focus more on her. "Everyone goes away. They see me, then they go away. The only one who ever wanted me to stay wanted me to sell myself to his friends. Are you going to do that?"

"Good heavens, no." Monica drew a breath, afraid of saying the wrong thing but not sure what was right. "I invited you to stay because I needed... I needed a woman who would... who would provide friendship in a way a man never could. I had a friend, my best friend in the world, but somehow other things became more important to her than friendship, and we'll never see each other again because of that. What I got from you when we talked is that you'd be someone who is very loyal to her friends."

She was rambling. Monica tried to bring that all to one simple conclusion, hoping Phoebe would understand. "Listen to me and believe me. I won't go away, for any reason. If you stay, I'll stay too, and I won't make you do anything you don't want to do."

Phoebe sniffled, then smiled tremulously. "Except pay the rent?"

Monica smiled slightly. That sounded like a good response. Phoebe seemed more in sync with current reality. "And help me clean up once in a while."

"Okay." Phoebe turned away from the oven. Monica let her go and watched closely as Phoebe walked towards her bedroom. "Okay, I'll stay." She paused at the bedroom door. "Thank you." Phoebe disappeared inside her room and shut the door.

Monica collapsed into a cross-legged position right there on the kitchen floor. Less than a day and she was already emotionally exhausted dealing with Phoebe. More than ever it seemed attractive to call the police, force Phoebe out.

But somehow in the last five minutes she'd been maneuvered into making a promise. A promise not to abandon Phoebe. And now at last she could understand Kip's warnings. She didn't need someone she had to nursemaid. She needed a companion. A friend. Not someone she needed to nursemaid. Not a patient.

Wearily, Monica got to her feet and walked over to her bedroom. The world had suddenly gotten a lot more complicated, and right now she just wanted to sleep and wake up in a world where no one ever had mothers that killed themselves or brothers with marriage problems.

God, if only Kip would ask her out. Then she'd have some kind of relief.

Distracting herself with thoughts of Kip, Monica prepared for bed.

(to be continued)