"She's lost quite a lot of blood, Mr. Geller. She's also heavily sedated. It'll be a while before she wakes up. I'm sorry." The doctor looked at Ross and gave him a sympathetic frown, the one that all doctors gave in an attempt to 'connect' with their patients.

"Yeah, okay, thanks." Ross replied, bitterly. He became annoyed at everything recently. The walls, the floors, the food, that damned bed, the staff, all of it. It pissed him off that he was still in the hospital. He wanted to go back to work, he wanted to go back to the apartments, he wanted to taste Monica's signature breakfast. But he couldn't.

The soothing touch of his lover's hand gently massaging his shoulder lulled him to peace. Her scent of vanilla and strawberry perfume barraged him with a salvo of passion, and he could not get enough. Ross put his hand on hers, and smiled a weak smile. Her beaming face gave his life light every time he had the privilege to glance at it. Each kiss that Rachel gave him was escorted by Cupid's dust, which carried him into heaven.

Just like it used to.

She had come in with Chandler a couple minutes earlier, and when they went up to his room, his nurse told them that he had been visiting Monica. Chandler decided to wait in Ross's room, as he couldn't lie in the bed he had made just yet. Rachel found Ross weeping over his sister's broken shell of a body, something she took very personally. It was nearly impossible to watch him cry, as every teardrop that fell from his chestnut eyes was soon followed by several of hers. Each wheezing breath he took emulated inside her heart, making it pound even faster. Rachel gripped the door handle, ready to stop the tears. She took deep breaths, and pushed.

Once he felt the blitz of air scrape his rough skin, Ross craned his neck to see who was at the door. His heart stopped, just for a moment. His angel in the gray suit had arrived, bringing with her a golden chariot of love. His sorrow was now in a losing battle, and her first step toward him crushed it altogether. Euphoria and bliss had overwhelmed him, and he even managed to stand up, if only for a brief second. As Rachel rushed over to him, time had stopped. Their own little world had been forged in that slice of eternity, and shut the true and undesirable one out with unbreakable barriers of passion. Her touch on his cheek caused the greatest surge of electricity through his body, and it was nothing less of exhilarating. Every fiber of his being was used on not fainting when their lips touched. It was absolutely beautiful; Da Vinci himself could not have painted this perfect picture. Harmony knew no bounds in an ocean of endless time and space. It was strange, however; every moment with her was like this, but each time there was something different, something better. But, it was better not to question these things, despite the desperate need to figure out why love can make humanity its puppet so easily. No, all Ross wanted was her touch, her kiss, her voice, everything that made him remember how much he loved her.

So, after hearing the doctor explain how dire Monica's wound really was, he longed for Rachel to sweep him away; something she could do expertly. So, she wheeled him toward the door, knowing that if they stayed any longer, Ross's grief would only grow. As they reached the doorway, they both looked back at Monica, knowing that someone would need be her hero. Both Ross and Rachel already had an idea of whom thatwould be.

Rolling through the halls, Ross felt uncomfortable, despite Rachel being right behind him. He couldn't believe that she was pushing him around, exerting energy for him. She shouldn't have to lift any of her perfect fingers. She was a queen, and deserved to be treated like one. Ross couldn't afford that many servants, however. Therefore, he shall be a one-man army of butlers, chefs and jesters. But none of that was possible while he sat in this chair. She would keep insisting on doing things for him, and as much as he wanted to give his piece, he kept it in. Tough, but doable.

At least he had Rachel back. He had to be thankful for that.

Once they reached his room, Ross tried to open the door, but Rachel had left him just out of reach of the handle. She opened it for him, and flashed her peerless smile, overjoyed that he would open the door for her, even in his condition. He wheeled himself into his room with Rachel in tow, and noticed Chandler toying with the various machines and equipment.

Ross's voice, albeit soft, was almost back to normal, aside from it cracking like that of a boy hitting puberty.

"Chandler, you break it, you buy it."

Chandler whipped around, apparently unaware that they had returned. Ross now had a smirk on his face, signifying that he was joking. This caused Chandler to smile back, which brought laughter from the both of them. Rachel noted how both of their faces lit up as they shared a limited exchange of humor; something that had been missing from their lives since that night.

Both of them went over to Chandler, where Ross gave him a typical cool-guy handshake, and Rachel tapped his side ever-so-discreetly, motioning him to follow her. They walked over to her purse, which Chandler thought to believe Rachel was pretending to dig through. To his surprise, she pulled out a folded sticky note and handed it to him.

Opening it, the hastily scribbled words popped out to Chandler:

Talk to him.

"Who's him?" Chandler whispered, acting like he had no idea what she meant; it failed, of course.

"Gunther. Who do you think?" Rachel retorted, annoyed.

Chandler cursed quietly, and placed his hand on the wall for support. He really didn't want to do this, but Rachel had her way of getting what she wanted, whether it was for her or someone else. That, and the fact that his conscience was slowly outweighing his fear. It really was the right thing to do, despite it feeling so wrong. As he prepped himself for an inevitable ass-kicking by a half-crippled paleontologist, a loud rattling came from behind, startling them both. Turning around, a horrifying sight presented itself. Ross, arms shaking riotously, was lifting himself out of the wheelchair. He bit his tongue, holding in his screams of pain for the sake of his independence, which was obviously foolish. But it was Ross. Good, old, prideful Ross. The chair was so light and wobbly, it was a mistake to even try something so brazen. Yet, there was a need for him to prove to himself that he wasn't worthless; that he wasn't less than a man. He had to show that he was perfectly capable of doing this by himself. His faรงade cracked, however, as Rachel and Chandler rushed over to his aid.

"Honey, stop!" Rachel screamed, tightly grabbing his arm along with Chandler. They both pushed on him to stop, but Ross was not fazed.

"Shut up! I can do this!" Ross lashed back at her, struggling.

He knew he actually couldn't, but he thought that if maybe he believed hard enough, like in a children's storybook, it would happen. Sadly, it didn't. After getting up a foot from the chair, his arms gave out and he fell back. It was all for nothing. He had depleted all of his strength, and now he needed someone to help him. With a broken spirit, Ross reached over to call a nurse. Rachel and Chandler placed their hands on his shoulders, and looked at each other, curious as to why he would try something so dangerous.

It took several minutes for a strongman orderly to come, who lifted Ross into his bed. Rachel noticed the pain in his expression, but passed it off as purely physical. Once the nurse left, Rachel walked over to him, putting his face into her hands and giving him a tender kiss. She decided not to question his actions; but to respect them, and to only help when he needed it.

She kissed him again, whispering amorously. "Okay, honey, I have to go to work now."

Ross threw his arms out in a farce protest. "Aw, why?"

"Because Joanna will eat me alive if I'm late again." It was true, after all.

"Alright." Ross replied, circling his sheets with his fingers, looking like a child who was just denied a toy.

"I'll be back at the end of the day, though." Rachel picked up his drooping chin, and rubbed his nose against hers.

He smiled at his princess, willing to rip the cords on the wall off for her. "If you say so. I'll miss you."

She smiled back, and gave him a final kiss. "I'll miss you too. Bye Chandler!" She waved goodbye to both of them, and walked out of the room.

As she was closing the door behind her, Rachel gave a menacing wink to Chandler, of whom had a look of confusion plastered on his face. This turned into terror as the click of metal emanated throughout the room.

Rachel was going to work, but first she had to make a little stop. Pulling her purse around and unzipping it, she took out a small black marker.

Chandler awkwardly strolled over to Ross, setting a chair next to him, deciding that today was a good day to die.

Ross took a sip of his coffee, and picked up the newspaper that was left for him. Glancing over to Chandler, who looked very distraught, he eyed him from top to bottom. He had so much dirt and grime all over him, like he slept in a gutter. While he went back to reading, he broke the ice.

"So... what's up?"

Chandler sighed, he chose to face death with a poker face. "We need to talk."

Ross glimpsed at him once more, and read the paper while listening. "Okay. Shoot."

Exhaling even deeper, Chandler put his hands together, caging his fear and tossing the key away.

"It's about Monica."

Ross looked up, and finally turned his head to face Chandler directly. He spoke slower this time. "Alright?"

Chandler sighed, reflecting on their conversation yesterday. Monica's glistening sapphire eyes, fogged with tears, looking directly at him as she awaited an answer. The way she just ran out when he said no, and the way he felt as he was with Ross for the entire day, watching him draw, but not speaking a word of what transpired.

"I... like her. A lot."

His eyes widened. "My sister?"

Chandler took a slight defensive stance. "Yeah. Look, man, I'm sorry."

Ross shrugged, taking the tip of the iceberg well. "Nothing to be sorry about. You can't control your feelings-"

Chandler interrupted. "There's more."

Ross nodded, very concerned. "Okay, go on."

"She told me that she had feelings for me too."

Chandler bit his lip, wondering if the punches were coming now or when he told him the really bad news. That was the last thing on Ross's mind, however. It was hard to believe that Monica would like Chandler. He'd always thought that she'd go for Joey first. Surprised, he muttered.

"Whoa. Really?"

"...Yeah."

"That's... wow." Ross was obviously still in shock, which didn't help Chandler's situation one bit.

"I know. That's not the worst part, though." Chandler braced himself.

"Okay, so what is the worst part?" Ross had become more than concerned; he was worried.

"...It's coming up."

Ross nodded, listening intently.

Chandler began hyperventilating. "She said she wasn't sure if her feelings were real," His body tensed and began making hand gestures, signifying that he was trying very hard to act normal. "and she asked if I felt the same way..."

"...Okay?" Ross took hard notice of his friend's strange behavior, gradually becoming fearful.

"I-I couldn't hurt her, man. I couldn't. I didn't want to ruin our friendship!" Out of absolutely nowhere, Chandler began yelling at the top of his lungs while sitting as far back into his chair as possible. He had gone mad, or confused, or was awash with guilt and fear. Either way, Ross was definitely scared now.

"Chandler, calm down. Breathe. Come on." Ross gently put his hand up to disarm Chandler to no avail.

"I-I-I said no." He stuttered as the dreaded words escaped his mouth.

Ross placed his hand on Chandler's shoulder, but it was knocked away instantly.

"And then..." He shut his eyes, letting the demons take over.

"And then?" But it was only Ross who took over, helping Chandler continue what he was saying.

Chandler's jaw shook, but he couldn't speak anymore. He simply pointed to the north wall of the room, his arm fluttering like a hummingbird. Ross didn't understand at first, but it facilely came to him. He wasn't pointing towards the north end of the room; he was pointing towards the north end of the recovery ward.

Monica.

With that, his mouth was agape.

Seeing this, Chandler hyperventilated further, and scooted back as fast as he could, putting his hands in front of his face. His entire life flashed before his closed eyes. A multitude of voices filled his mind, many of which were telling him that he was never going to be successful, or that he was the greatest coward of all time. Most of these were from his friends, family, other schoolmates, etc. One, however, stood out from the rest. It didn't chastise or degrade him; it cheered him on. It told him to face his fears in only two simple words.

Stop that.

It was louder than the rest, and somewhat recognizable. It was a good break from the belittle and disgrace that haunted him throughout the years.

Chandler, stop that.

He didn't want to comply, but he didn't have a choice. That voice made the decision for him, and he slowly lowered his hands, exposing himself.

Ross couldn't believe what he had seen. Chandler's face was redder than a tomato, and he could swear he could see lines of tears cascading down his cheeks. He had never seen Chandler so weak, so vulnerable. It was unbelievable. But now wasn't the time to reminisce; it was time to help.

Collected, Ross spoke in a warm tone. "Dude, calm down. I'm not going to hurt you." He emphasized each word for him.

Yes, you are. I put your sister in the hospital!

He continued, frightened. "Chandler, you're scaring me. Please, stop."

"I-I'm so sorry!" Chandler blurted, attempting to stop the beating that was never going to come. Ross painfully reached over to put his other hand on his shoulder, burdened deeply for his friend. Instead of telling him that there's nothing to be sorry about, he issued a perfect example of how strong Monica really is.

He shook Chandler. "Listen to me. Remember when Monica broke up with Richard?" His voice was now deliberate and steady.

Chandler nodded, still unsure of what to do.

"She was in a funk for a few days. But that was it." Ross's deep voice sent tremors through his shattered body,

He was right. Monica cried for about an hour each day, slowly progressing into a sniffle for a minute. It was not like this at all.

He continued. "And, she loved him. There's obviously more to it than just you rejecting her."

That was true, at least. Having been rejected by so many women in his time, Ross always knew that something so complicated like this had more than one factor; he had over analyzed this since Carol left him. There was always more to it.

Chandler blinked rapidly, aware that Ross was right. "R-Really?" He stuttered, but he had a little composure now.

Ross shook his head in disbelief that he was in denial. "Yes, Chandler!"

Chandler winced for a couple seconds, as his now open eyes gained focus.

"Look at me. I'm not mad, okay?" Ross tried to sound as convincing as possible.

Chandler swallowed thickly. It was hard to trust him- or anybody, for that matter.

"Chandler?"

But he did. Someway, somehow, it was okay now.

Chandler slowly turned his neck forward, and the room blurred and spun around him. But, when he faced Ross, he could see the pain he had in his eyes. It was physically painful for him to look at; Ross was really hurt. And this was supposed to be for him? Someone cared about him? Blasphemy. It was heartbreaking, though. Ross didn't deserve this.

Ross continued with his reasoning. "Look, man. You're my best friend. It'd be hard to convince me that you're the sole reason Monica is here."

Chandler shook his head in disbelief, and relaxed his tense body. He blinked once more, and the tears in his eyes had dissolved. Ross immediately knew what that meant, and patted his best friend on the arm, knowing that he was fine.

Chandler spoke, finally in control of his emotions. "I'm sorry, man."

Ross smiled. He had his friend back. "Nothing to be sorry about, bro. You've gotta promise me something though."

"Sure, anything."

Ross took a serious look, but Chandler saw right through it. "When Monica wakes up, you march in there and talk to her. Tell her the truth. She deserves that much."

"Got it." Chandler quickly replied. He was going to do that anyway.

There was a tense silence following their moment, but otherwise, Chandler couldn't be happier. Like many things, it was not as bad as he thought it was going to be. His innate fears hid in the deepest corners of his mind, where they belonged.

Ross awkwardly cut the tiny tension.

"So, uh, let me ask you something then."

Chandler smirked happily. "Go for it."

Ross furrowed his brow, and picked up his coffee. "You said that she wasn't sure if she really felt those things, right?"

Chandler quizzically stared at him, unable to pick up on to why he would ask such a thing. "Uh, yeah. Why?"

"Well," Ross took a small sip, before looking back at Chandler. "Are you sure about your feelings?"

There was another pause, and Chandler looked deftly confused. He had never once thought about whether or not his feelings were genuine, or if they fell within the same category as Monica's. It was a real thinker, but he came to a conclusion.

"Honestly?"

Ross gulped down even more coffee. "Yup."

Chandler sighed with an impartial breath. "I guess not."

Ross nodded in agreement, knowing he was correct. "Thought so. Wanna talk about it?"

Chandler flipped his hands out in front of him, deciding that it was for the best. "I suppose. It's just weird, y'know?"

"How so?"

He breathed in, ready to pour his heart out. "I mean, I see the way you look at Rachel, and I see the way she looks at you, and I can't help but wonder how great that must feel. The way you guys act around each other, and how you like," He shook his hand in indecision. "Y'know, love each other." Chandler shrugged.

Ross nodded, listening intently.

Chandler chuckled, hearing himself at that moment."I don't know. Maybe I'm just a hopeless romantic."

Ross looked at him, with a boyish 'stop beating yourself up' face. "You're not hopeless. Monica might be 'the one'."

Chandler raised his eyebrows, alarmed at how he would just let him be with his sister. "And you'd be okay with that?"

Ross scoffed at his question. "You've been my best friend for almost ten years now. I couldn't ask for a better person for her to be with."

He patted Ross on his good shoulder, smiling like a clown. "Thanks, man."

Ross examined Chandler one last time. "Now, might I make a suggestion?"

"Sure."

Ross turned serious once more, but Chandler again knew it was only a joke. Ross pointed at him, starting from his head down to his shoes, and back to his middle."Go home. Clean yourself up. You look like burnt crap."

"No problem, amigo."

They gave each other a friendly salute, and Chandler left the room, head held high.