Please Come to Boston

Chapter 8

Thanks for the reviews! Yes, Chandler has Kenzi at his apartment…I thought that was clear from Vanessa leaving Kenzi's stuff with her in the beginning of the last part, but I'll go back over it and make sure.

Where we last left off…

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Monica stood outside his door. Ironically, it was apartment number 20. She almost laughed, but instead, took a deep, shaky breath, all of the emotions she had been hiding from for the past six months suddenly bombarding her at once. Not wanting to leave, afraid he would somehow know it had been her, she knocked. The first knock was shaky; she composed herself more for the second.

When he opened the door, she could have cried.

"Mon," his voice caught in his throat, and he was suddenly unsure of whether he wanted to hug her or yell at her, or perhaps even cry. Was she really there, standing less than three feet from him? He had practiced, over and over, what he would say to her when this moment arrived, but now that it had, no words came. Only her name hung on his lips.

"Can I-Can I explain something? Before you say anything? Or think anything?" Monica started, tears already forming in her eyes, threatening to fall at any moment. "It was-it was all a plan," she choked out. "To throw you off, like you were trying to throw me off. I knew you were going to propose, I knew you were trying to throw me off, so I was trying to beat you to it," she continued, and Chandler looked at her in confusion. "I had candles, all of these candles, Chandler! You must have come at the worst possible time," she wiped her eyes. "I ran downstairs, to, to borrow some matches from Tregger-"

"But Joey said you left," Chandler interrupted, barely even in a whisper, his own speech he planned on giving at this moment completely forgotten.

"I know," Monica nodded. "That was part of the plan," she again wiped her eyes, actually telling the story out loud becoming gut-wrenchingly hard. "God, I'm so sorry, Chandler," she whispered, slowly making eye contact.

"When you left," Chandler paused. "What I thought you left," he paused again, trying to get the words out. "You broke me, Monica, you broke me in a way I didn't think possible. And, believe me, I've been through some shit before."

"I know," Monica nodded. "I know, because when you just-just left…I broke, too," she choked out. "And that was the worst part. I broke me. I mean, you did, but…it was my fault as much as yours. And then, I just never heard from you again…"

"I wrote letters, dozens of letters, for months," he paused, interrupted when Kenzi cried, letting him know that she was still not asleep and waiting for the pomised milk. Monica looked at him, confused. "My neighbor's daughter," he explained. "I'm babysitting," he moved away from the door, motioning for her to follow. "Be right back," he grabbed the sippy cup off of the counter, going into his bedroom.

Monica looked around his apartment. It was a very grown-up feeling apartment, probably what his would have been like much sooner had it not been for Joey living with him. The furniture was black, and there were black and white photographs on the walls of various cities.

He returned a few moments later with Kenzi in his arms, laying against his chest. "This is Kenzi," he said when Monica looked up.

"Hi, Kenzi," Monica smiled at the little girl, a twinge of jealousy at the sight of him with someone else's child. At that moment, Monica stopped, realizing she had no idea what his life consisted of at the moment, other than a job that took him away a lot.

"Say hi, Kenz," he looked down at her, but she buried her face in his chest, and he shrugged at Monica. "I, um, took those," he said, motioning to the photographs Monica was looking at.

"Really?" He nodded in return, sitting down on the couch. "Wow."

After a few minutes of silence, the only noise audible being Kenzi drinking her milk, Chandler finally broke it. "The first letter I wrote," he began, shaking his head. "I guess…I guess I thought that, if you didn't want me to call you, it must have been bad. That Ireally screwed us up. I, not you," he paused, making eye contact. "You didn't want to talk to me, let alone see me. So, I thought that was the only way to get some sort of connection with you. And, I figured if you wanted, if I deserved it, you could call me…"

"Chandler, your phone number doesn't exist anymore," Monica stated, much more in control than earlier.

"No, I wrote my new one on the back of that letter. I, um, may have taken some frustration out on my old phone," he laughed at the memory. "But, after so many weeks, and you didn't call, I figured…that was it. But, I just…I needed to feel some sort of connection to you, Mon. I couldn't bear the thought of having lost you forever because I was just so stupid. And while my whole point in taking this stupid job, which, I love by the way, was to get away from this city, away from you," he paused, looking down at Kenzi, now asleep. He set her down on the blanket spread out on the floor from where she was playing earlier. "I still needed to know that…god, I don't even know," he continued with a sigh. "I guess, I needed to have some connection with you. I still loved you, and I wanted you to feel that, I guess."

Monica sat for a few seconds, taking it in. "I was in Paris," she finally whispered.

"You what?" he looked at her in disbelief.

"I, also got this job offer, contingent on me attending this culinary school program in Paris," she laughed at the situation, dripping with irony. "I never got your letters! Until yesterday," she shook her head. "You wanna hear the real stinger? That first letter? Post-marked the day I left. Not the day after. Not a week later," she paused, looking down. "The day that I left," she finished slowly, emphasizing each word.

After letting it sink in for a few moments, Chandler let out a soft chuckle. Monica met his eyes, smiling when she saw the soft smile playing on his lips, and she laughed as well, finally seeing the humor in the torturous situation.

"So, um," Chandler scooted slowly closer to Monica's end of the couch, not stopping unil he held her hands in his. "I, uh, I guess we really need to work on our communication skils, huh?" he mused, and Monica laughed.

"That would be a good place to start," she nodded, fingers still laced in his, and for the first time in months, she felt ok, like a huge weight had been lifted off of her shoulders. And although she knew it wouldn't be as simple as that, that they couldn't magically go back to exactly how it had once been, it was at least a place to start. "That sounds like a perfect place to start."

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The End!

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Um…sorry about the abrupt ending. I'm…done with this fic. Like, my brain is done writing it. Although I am very thankful for this fic, since it got me out of an incredibly painful 4 year long writers' block, this isn't quite how I wanted it to go.

When I wrote the first chapter of this, I had three different directions I had considered going…This one, having Chandler actually go to Boston and live there, and Monica eventually goes there to find him, or else Monica sending Chandler a letter back saying "you come home to me" which is also a part of the song that he wrote to her. Maybe, maybe, I'll continue this eventually. Or, maybe, I could re-work it to incorporate one of the other ideas that I had considered. I guess we'll see.

Please leave some final reviews! If you have a request for what you want me to do with this, either leave it, continue it, or rework it, let me know! I'll seriously take them into consideration, though I can't make any promises! Thanks for all of the reviews for this! They mean so much :)