A/N The site has been glitching so badly this week, reviews and messages were all over the place and I'm not sure if any of my replies got through - sorry about that! Thank you to anybody reading, or indeed re-reading!
I wanted to get this one out fairly quickly, as it's kind of the second half to the last chapter.
Chandler eased his way through the door with grim trepidation, his cheeks violently scarlet with a combination of exertion, embarrassment and annoyance, and he met the twin salacious smirks of Ross and Joey with a steely glare.
Whilst they were not attempting to rewind the incriminating tape, as Monica had fatalistically, and perhaps unrealistically, feared they might, they were standing disconcertingly close to the video camera as it continued to capture the ruined scene, its red light blinking steadily, its unfaltering lens entirely unbothered by Joey and Ross's devastating interruption.
Chandler could barely contain his fury as he watched his two friends inspecting the set up with the kind of gleeful giggles one might expect from a couple of adolescent boys who had just happened upon a racy magazine.
He dared a fleeting glance towards the counter and was relieved to ascertain that Monica's purse was entirely hidden behind her pile of shopping bags, and her fairly anonymous black coat was folded up in such a way that would most likely render it unidentifiable to either Ross or Joey.
His biggest fear now was that Rachel or Phoebe might turn up. They were far more observant and much less easily distracted than the boys, and there was no way on Earth that neatly folded jacket would escape their attention.
"Whatcha been doin'?" Joey asked pointlessly, his grin lurid and toothsome.
"Can you guys please just leave?" Chandler made no attempt to temper his vexation with pleasantries of any kind, his whisper seething and pointed, "I'm kind of in the middle of something here!"
"Yeah, we can see that!" Ross sniggered, before glancing towards the bedroom and mouthing excitedly, "Who is she?"
"Just some girl! Nobody you know! Now get out!" Chandler fumed beneath his breath.
Of course he knew that Joey and Ross would be in no hurry to let this go, and his brain was whirring furiously, leaping ahead of the narrative, desperately trying to predict everyone's next move, as he attempted to figure out how the hell he was going to get Monica out of here undetected.
He did not really want his two friends to decamp to Ross's place, it was too close, and Chandler was sure that the pair would lie in wait, keenly listening out for any comings or goings in the hallway, taking turns pressing their eager eyes against the peephole in the front door, as they attempted to witness the departure of Chandler's not-so-mysterious lady friend.
"Oh my God, it's Janice isn't it!" Joey hissed accusingly, his eyes suddenly wide, dismayed at the prospect of yet another encounter with Chandler's annoyingly unshakeable ex-girlfriend.
"God! No! Look, I'll meet you at the coffee house and tell you all about it, OK? Just give me five minutes! Please!"
Chandler was annoyed with himself for sounding so pleading, but he really was starting to feel desperate.
"Five minutes? Not exactly a feature length production then? Whoever she is, she's one lucky lady." Ross snickered, and exchanged a mocking glance with Joey.
"Yeah, very funny!" Chandler bristled, "We're hardly likely to carry on now are we? Not now you two clowns have totally ruined the mood!"
Joey was peering too closely at the camera now, inciting Chandler to snatch it away to ensure it was switched off.
"Give me that!" he snapped, beginning to dismantle the tripod somewhat aggressively.
"Hey calm down man, I live here too, remember? How was I supposed to know that you'd be making porn in the living room? Maybe give me a little notice next time? Look, we'll give you some privacy, alright?" Joey could tell that Chandler had just about reached his limit. "We'll see you in the coffee house".
Chandler herded the pair away, arms flailing impatiently as he shooed them out to the hallway without another word. He was careful not to actually slam the door in their sniggering faces, but he did apply an angry force that he hoped was suitably indicative of his extreme disgruntlement. He let out a loud sigh as he re-applied the lock with exasperated flourish, and leaned back against the door for a moment, feeling dazed as he attempted to wrap his head around what had just happened.
He made great efforts to calm his demeanor and trod gingerly as he approached his bedroom, finding Monica sitting forlornly on the bed, her knees tucked up beneath her chin and his bed sheets pulled right up, so that they billowed around her like a tent. Only her doleful, slightly watery eyes, and the top of her head were visible.
"They've gone to the coffeehouse" he informed her gently, perching next to her, wrapping a consoling arm around her shoulder and resting his head against hers. "They didn't spot your jacket or your purse. They have no clue that you're here".
A sigh of partial relief decompressed her lungs, but her expression remained mournful as she pressed her eyes closed.
"I'm so sorry, Chandler. I'm such an idiot. I mean, a video camera? Richard's video camera? I don't know what the hell I was thinking."
Chandler paused and gave her a squeeze before suggesting tentatively "Maybe you were thinking that you wanted to give me the best Christmas present I ever got?"
There was gratitude in her remorseful glance, but another shudder of self-reproach soon drew Monica's shoulders to her ears and she shook her head shamefully.
"Ugh! What kind of moron cheats on her husband and then videotapes the evidence herself?"
Chandler felt his own muscles contract. Hearing her refer to Richard as "her husband" was now painfully jarring. It had been a while since he had heard her call him that. And "cheating" sounded all wrong too.
"Maybe you're just done with hiding?" he proposed gruffly, "Maybe you just want to get on with your life. Maybe on some level you just want him to find out the truth?"
"Not like this!" she insisted woefully. She was beginning to look really quite tearful now. "I know that I have to be honest with him, but he can't find out like this, Chandler. I need to be more careful. I shouldn't be taking stupid risks."
He planted a firm kiss against her temple before rising from the bed to collect the camera, blowing out the candles on his way, feeling a little more dejected with each extinguished flame.
When he returned, he placed the camera on the bed between them and examined her face gently, "Do you think you would feel more comfortable if we erased this?"
She squirmed a little as her lips formed a pensive pout.
"Probably" she eventually conceded, becoming thoughtful and silent for a while, then admitting in a low voice, "I don't really want to though...Do you?"
"No," he acknowledged, a jolt of something wonderful igniting his abdomen at the very thought of the contents of that tape "Well... I could probably lose the part with Joey and Ross".
She gave a mirthless chuckle and a permissive nod.
"OK, well.. we'll just... "
"I'll keep it well hidden" he promised needlessly, "But right now, we really need to get you out of here, Mon. I told the guys I'd meet them in Central Perk".
He ruffled her hair as he stood, and handed her the carefully folded pants, shirt, socks and underwear she had stacked in a kind of pyramid formation on top of his chest of drawers. There was something so adorable, something so intrinsically Monica, about that precise and tidy little bundle of clothes, that the very sight of it inspired a rush of affection, making Chandler want to leap back onto the bed and hold her against his chest as tight as he could, for as long as he could.
But they were on borrowed time, so instead he made his way hastily towards the living room with the intention of tidying away all reminders of today's events.
When reached the door, he suddenly hesitated, turning anxiously to confront her painfully apparent guilt. Guilt that was so pronounced it was contagious.
Seeing her shame so exposed like this, and knowing that he was to blame, at least in part, made his heart physically ache.
"Mon...I know this is really hard, so you know that if you want to... I dunno... cool things down between us...until you have a chance to sort things out with him... I'll understand, you know? I'll wait..."
Despite his sincerity, Chandler felt a strange kind of warmth surge through his chest when this suggestion sparked instant panic and dismay in Monica's eyes. Just pure relief, he supposed, that the idea of being apart was as abhorrent to her as it was to him.
"No!"
She flew across the room at astonishing speed, hurling her vehement body at his, framing his face with tender fingers, drawing him into clear eyes that bestowed her absolute certainty.
"No. I'm not giving this up, Chandler, not even for a minute. I won't do that, OK? I can't."
As he neared the coffee house Chandler stopped and stood still, temporarily overwhelmed with nerves.
The apartment was restored to a mundane state.
Monica had left the building without being seen.
The tape was out of the camera and stashed beneath his bed.
The camera was safely back in its holdall, and hidden in his wardrobe.
He had even switched it on and off at least ten times, and scoured its functionality for any hidden capacity for memory that might spill their secrets.
So now it was time to confront Joey and Ross.
He picked at his fingernails as he took a moment to envy a solemn-eyed woman who was standing in a doorway close by, drawing a deep, leisurely plume of nicotine into her lungs.
God, he could murder a cigarette right now.
The woman must have felt the weight of Chandler's stare, because she suddenly looked up and caught his eye. She returned a mild scowl, most likely misinterpreting his slack-jawed gaze of pure longing, so Chandler turned away quickly in embarrassment.
Despite having successfully smuggled Monica out of the building, things had not gone entirely to plan, and the grilling he knew he was about to receive from his friends was making him excruciatingly anxious.
Everything had gone smoothly at first. Despite his panic, Chandler had considered and prepared for most eventualities: He had checked that Apartment 20 was well and truly vacant before preparing Monica to leave 19, pressing a suspicious ear to Ross's front door, even going so far as to place a protective hand over the peephole when she finally emerged, ready to thwart any particularly devious snooping eyes;
He had then flown stealthily down the stairs ahead of her, gesturing for her to hold back, giving him time to survey the entire area with his coolly cunning gaze. He had pushed his back against the wall as he scanned the streets with laser focus, searching for any sign of Joey and Ross, and only beckoning Monica down to the lobby when he was absolutely certain that the coast was clear for her to make a safe exit.
He had felt quite confident and accomplished by this point, and imagined that to passers-by he most likely resembled some kind of action hero carrying out a top secret mission.
James Bond, probably.
As Monica had stepped out of the door, his eyes had smouldered, he had grabbed her impetuously by the hand, sweeping her back inside the lobby for one last brief but breath-taking kiss that had made her eyes dance.
That part was definitely Bond.
He had then watched with misty-eyed satisfaction as she strode briskly away, convinced he had done all that was required to shelter her from whatever came next.
She was so very nearly home and dry, but then Phoebe and Rachel had appeared out of nowhere.
That was not supposed to happen and Chandler's heart had plummeted.
The arrival of the girls meant he had a larger, and potentially more shrewd, audience to convince, as he attempted to explain his afternoon of movie-making with some unknown woman, and worse yet, the two women wasted no time in accosting Monica.
Chandler had only been able to watch from the door of his building, alarm and incredulity intensifying in his eyes, as Monica began to chatter away with her two best friends, as if she had not a care in the world.
Eventually Rachel had relieved Monica of a couple of her shopping bags, linked their arms together companionably, and then the trio had sauntered off in the direction of the coffeehouse.
Chandler was unable to fathom why, after today's catastrophic events, Monica would take such an inexplicable and unnecessary risk.
Why would she even consider going to Central Perk?
She was carrying in her arms the very shopping bags that had been piled beneath the counter as Joey and Ross had discovered their movie set; she was wearing the same black coat that had been folded on the stool beneath the counter. What if they had noticed these items, but had simply failed to make a connection?
"What are you doing!?" he had demanded as he viewed her from afar, dismayed by her actions and grabbing frustrated handfuls of his own hair.
"I was just... uh... checking my mailbox..."
Chandler had whipped around in astonishment when he received this unforeseen, stuttered response to what had been intended as a rhetorical question, and he met the disconcerted face of a timid, bookish young man with tiny glasses and a prominent Adam's apple, who had only recently moved into the building.
Chandler had only been able to stare back, blank-eyed, at his justifiably unnerved new neighbor for what felt like an incredibly uncomfortable amount of time, before muttering, "OK, carry on", and then striding out into the dusk like the raging madman that he was.
What with that awkward interaction, the surprise arrival of Rachel and Phoebe, Monica going completely off piste, and then the unfortunate eye contact with the smoking woman, by the time Chandler reached the coffee house himself, he was flustered, clammy, and nauseous with nerves. Any trace of James Bond was long gone.
As he burst through the door and the warmth of Central Perk hit his face, he composed himself and adopted a concertedly neutral expression, offering a casual nod of greeting in the general direction of the three girls, who were still hovering behind the sofa, deciding what they wanted to order.
Thankfully, both Joey and Ross seemed entirely oblivious to the shopping bags in Monica's arms, in fact, Chandler doubted they had noticed her at all, fixated as they were upon him.
"Here he is! The Porn King of Bedford Street!"
Ross wasted no time in focusing everybody's attention on the day's most tantalizing piece of gossip.
Chandler glanced back towards Rachel and Phoebe who were eyeing him with bewildered curiosity, and he had to admit that he was rather impressed by Monica's highly convincing imitation of the same.
"What?" Rachel glanced between the two men with inquisitive eyes.
"Chandler has a secret girlfriend!"
Rachel and Phoebe's mouths dropped open as Ross made his jubilant, singsong declaration.
"A dirty secret girlfriend!" Joey elaborated with a joyful beam.
Chandler pressed his lips together, having to smother an unexpected smirk, when Joey's gleefully tasteless remark caused Monica's nostrils to flare.
"We walked in on them making a sex tape in the living room!" Joey continued excitedly.
The girls looked predictably delighted by his discomfort, and Rachel made a quick grab for Chandler's arm, dragging him towards the sofa ready for a thorough interrogation.
"OK! I want to hear everything! Who is she?" she asked, sitting unduly close and examining his face with intense, sparkling eyes.
"We didn't see her" Joey interrupted sadly, "He hid her in his bedroom"
"Janice?" guessed Phoebe, nodding towards Chandler with knowing pity.
Chandler's disgruntlement at having to deny this for the second time was highly evident to all, and it was Monica's turn to suppress a wry smile when she caught his eye.
"No! Of course not! It's just somebody from work, OK? I'm seeing a girl from work!"
Chandler should have known right away that this plausible but vague response would not be enough to placate his perpetually prying friends.
"It's Linda!" Phoebe declared, her chest puffed and her expression triumphant, convinced that she had solved the mystery.
"Phoebe! Linda's about ten years older than my mom!"
Even considering the age gap he could not quite decide if Linda was a better or worse prospect than Janice, but still, Chandler's offense at being paired with his sour-faced receptionist was palpable.
The way Monica was chewing on her cheeks and twirling her hair indicated that she was struggling not to enjoy all of this, and Chandler felt forced to fire a warning glare in her direction.
Phoebe was on a roll now, determined to be the one to crack the puzzle, and she quickly guessed again.
"Ooooh! Was it one of those two girls who were handing out holiday candy when I came to meet you for lunch yesterday? I'll bet it was! You were totally flirting with them!"
Monica looked slightly less smug now, and she perched on the edge of her chair, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees, and her chin in her hands, awaiting Chandler's response with piercing eyes and attentively arched eyebrows.
"I was not flirting with them, Phoebe! I just took some candy from them!" he dismissed, his cheeks turning pink beneath that cool blue gaze.
"Look at his face!" Phoebe grinned widely as she pointed an accusing finger, "He's blushing! It was totally one of those girls! Which one was it? The one wearing the Santa hat? Or the one in the elf hat?"
"Probably the one in the elf hat."
Monica side-eyed Chandler as she delivered her laconic utterance, anticipating his sarcastic scowl and throwing back a self-satisfied smirk.
"It wasn't either of them, OK? She works on another floor! You don't know her!"
Joey's eyes grew suddenly round and brimmed with excitement "Nooooo! Does she work on the 8th floor? Is it hot, blonde Stacey?"
"No way!" Ross's jaw dropped open too. "Hot, blonde Stacey?"
Chandler considered this for a moment. None of his friends were likely to encounter the enigmatic and curvaceous flaxen-haired beauty he had mutely gawked at in the elevator a few months ago, he hardly ever clapped eyes on her himself, so she actually seemed like a fairly safe bet.
Plus, if he was not allowed to show off his beautiful real life girlfriend to the world, then surely it was only fair that he gained a little kudos with a half-decent fake one.
"Yes. It's hot, bl.. It's Stacey"
"I'm going to need a copy of that tape!" Joey asserted, raising a hand, as Ross gave a frantic nod of agreement.
"You guys never even met her!" Chandler pointed out with a scathing shake of his head.
"No but from all those things you said about her, I know we're gonna want to see it! Please! Just a tiny peek!"
Chandler cringed, keeping his eyes firmly trained upon Joey and Ross's awestruck faces, and well away from Monica, but even in his peripheral vision, the arms that she folded robustly across her chest as she sat back in her armchair led him to assume that she was deeply unimpressed.
"So when do we get to meet her?" Phoebe asked keenly.
"Oh, uh, let me see...that'll be...never"
Chandler's decisive nod drew a general murmur of disappointment .
"Look, it's not like it's serious or anything. And she probably won't want to see me again after today; she was really embarrassed about you guys walking in on us. She's actually pretty shy".
"Pfftt... yeah the video camera gave really shy vibes", Ross gave a somewhat lecherous smirk.
By this point, the conversation had caused Monica to wince enough, so as her brother shared another ribald chuckle with Joey, she cleared her throat and made for the counter. Chandler was at her side in a matter of seconds.
"Are you OK?" he whispered anxiously, "You're not pissed off are you?"
"About what? The elf flirting? Or hot, blonde Stacey?"
The worry on Chandler's face was adorably childlike and Monica could not help but smile as she looked straight ahead, keeping her eyes on Gunther as she awaited his attention.
"Of course I'm not pissed off." She gave Chandler's shoulder an affectionate nudge with her own. "I'm relieved. Thank you for covering for me."
She paused before adding reproachfully, "Although I am gonna need to see this hot, blonde Stacey for myself"
"You do realize that I don't actually have her on video right?" Chandler checked with a hint of sarcasm, "I've never actually spoken to the woman".
He glanced back towards the group before finding Monica's fingers beneath the counter and giving them a furtive squeeze.
"How come you came in here anyway? I thought you were gonna head straight home?"
"Yeah well, when Rachel and Phoebe turned up I was a little worried; They're a lot smarter than those two morons", she threw a short, sharp nod in the direction of Joey and Ross, still annoyed with the pair for unintentionally ruining her fun with Chandler.
"I didn't want to leave you to deal with it alone, in case it all went wrong," she continued to explain quietly, "But luckily hot, blonde Stacey saved the day, so..."
He leaned in so close that his lips almost skimmed her ear, sending a tingle down her spine.
"Just so we're absolutely clear; hot, blonde Stacey is not even in the same league as hot, brunette Monica," he murmured gruffly.
She returned his tender finger squeeze and risked leaning even closer, her cheek briefly brushing his, and her face dissolving from smirk to grin as she whispered huskily "I'll bet she's not as "dirty" either".
A laugh exploded from the back of his throat as he linked their pinkies and fondly agreed, "Not a chance".
The weary sigh that deflated her chest when Richard called her name made Monica feel immediately guilty.
She had been hoping that she would arrive home before him, so that she could run herself a steaming, rose-scented bath and soak away the considerable stresses of the day, but that would now have to wait; she was barely through the door when Richard greeted her in the living room.
Her guilt was amplified when he kindly took her coat and handed her a glass of red wine, which she accepted with a grateful smile. If she couldn't jump straight in the tub, wine was definitely the next best thing.
"How did Henry get on?" she asked, sinking wearily into the sofa, holding her glass aloft to protect it from Tilly, who immediately leaped up to join her, curling up at her side and resting her soft chin on Monica's thigh.
"He did great" Richard confirmed proudly, "He remembered all of his lines, and his singing was good too. Barbara took a bunch of photographs, she said she'll bring them round to Michelle's on Christmas Day."
Monica's smile was somewhat tight-lipped; just the thought of a Christmas Day spent with the whole Burke clan was enough to make her stomach churn.
Richard joined her on the sofa, settling down the other side of Tilly.
"You know, after you left this morning, it suddenly occurred to me that I should just film the play for you. So then I turned the whole place upside down looking for that video camera my sister got us for our wedding, but I couldn't find it anywhere."
Monica's hand froze against Tilly's silken back and she almost choked on a sip of wine that suddenly felt as viscous and burning as hot tar in her throat.
She hardly dared look at him.
Surely that can't have been a coincidence?
"Do you know what happened to that? Did we lend to someone maybe? I wondered if it might be over at Bedford Street.."
Richard's tone was not accusatory in the slightest and when she finally braved a glance in his direction he seemed completely unfazed, but Monica felt suddenly light-headed.
"Why would it be there?" she managed to croak.
Richard shrugged as he absentmindedly swirled the ruby liquid in the bottom of his glass.
"I don't know. I thought Ross might have borrowed it to record Ben doing something or other? Or Joey might have needed it to record a self-tape?"
Monica's stomach churned, as she gaped back in silence.
Or Chandler might have used it to make an x-rated movie with your wife?
She cleared her throat and shook her head.
"I don't remember. I'll ask them. Did you check in the wardrobe?"
Her wind-pipe felt like it had entirely sealed up now and her deceit emerged as a painful rasp.
"That's where I thought it was too, but I couldn't see it. Ah well. I'm sure it'll turn up".
What if he asked Joey or Ross about it? Surely they could not fail to make some kind of connection? What with Chandler's foray into the world of adult movies still so fresh in their minds.
She leaned forward, to set down the glass of wine that felt like it was trembling wildly in her grasp. She fumbled slightly, sending a few drops of crimson splashing over the rim and creating speckles on the coffee table.
"Shit!" she hissed, leaping to her feet, driving Tilly from the sofa in a shocked scramble. Starbursts were dancing across Monica's vision and she thought for a moment she might actually pass out.
"It's alright, I'll grab a cloth," Richard eyed her with concern as he stood up steadily and went to the kitchen.
Monica pinched the top of her nose between her thumb and index finger as she attempted to calm her panicked breath.
"Are you OK?" Richard checked as he mopped up the small spill "You look a little pale".
"I think I'm just tired" she excused with a hard swallow. "It's been a really long day."
He gave her an inquiring look that made her pulse race with nerves. Or guilt. Or both.
"Just.. you know... seeing my Mom" she explained.
"Ah"
Monica's tricky relationship with her mother was certainly no secret and Richard nodded his understanding before stepping closer and pulling her into an embrace.
She was so shaken that she was actually momentarily grateful for the physical support, but then she remembered that she had yet to shower, and suddenly all she could imagine was a heady cloud of sex radiating from her skin.
She could practically see it; intoxicating trails billowing from her pores, flooding Richard's nostrils with her and Chandler; with pheromones; with brine, and warmth, and earth.
Her knees almost buckled and her already tight muscles contracted further as he began to rub slow, tender circles against her back.
"Lunch was tough then, huh?" Richard asked, "What did Judy say this time?"
"Oh, you know... just standard Mom stuff. I'm too thin... I have weird ears...the usual." Monica relayed weakly.
Richard hummed sympathetically.
"Is that why your hair is down? Because she said that about your ears? You were wearing it tied back this morning, weren't you?"
Richard was apparently more observant than she gave him credit for and Monica's breath caught in her throat once again.
"Yeah, that's why."
Her heart was pounding and her voice was so thin it was barely there.
He brushed her hair back from her face with gentle fingers and a fond smile, peering at her ears and promising, "They look fine to me."
Fine.
Not elf-like.
Not magical.
It was ludicrous, that of all of the things that had happened today, everything that had been said and done, it was this perfectly kind and well-intentioned reassurance from Richard that provoked the largest wave of distress, causing her to miss Chandler so much, that it felt like her rib cage was collapsing in on itself.
She was momentarily unable to contemplate another second apart from him, truly believing that her heart might, at any moment, cease to throb and pulse without his adorable smile, his sweet affection, his mind-blowing kisses, and his ridiculous jokes.
"I think I'm going to take a bath" she managed the tiniest wisp of a murmur, as she tried desperately hard not to descend into full-blown panic, wriggling free of Richard's arms and making her escape.
A few hours later, and an inordinately long soak had indeed restored a little of Monica's inner calm. More time alone immersed in the whirring white noise of the hairdryer had proven to be somewhat therapeutic too, and by now her panic had been more or less replaced by profound exhaustion.
By the time she sat down at her dressing table, smearing night cream across each cheek, she had finally reached the conclusion that Richard asking about the camera had to have been nothing more than a heart-stopping coincidence.
Even if he suspected her of cheating, there was no way he would ever believe that she could be so incredibly stupid as to video herself in the act.
Because really, what kind of imbecile would do such a thing?
Monica might have been feeling calmer, but she was certainly no less angry with herself for being so reckless, and she gave her stupid reflection a hostile glare.
The simple truth was, she just could not help herself when it came to Chandler. Her love for him had knocked her world from its axis; her long held sense of order and responsibility had been smashed to smithereens. It was official: Chandler Bing had unwittingly turned her into the happiest, most reckless imbecile in the world.
The very thought of him sent the girl in the mirror a little dopey-eyed, and Monica gave her another hard stare.
Not only was she dopey-eyed, she looked ridiculous.
It was a bitterly cold night, which had presented Monica with the perfect excuse to abandon her usual, vaguely revealing nightwear in favor of a pair of thick, flannel pajamas she had owned since she was a teenager. They were the most comfortable item of clothing Monica possessed, but they were also the least flattering; bobbled, almost threadbare in places, and far too big for her; hanging shapelessly from her shoulders and sagging around her hips, completely drowning her slender frame.
As she looked in the mirror Monica thought they made her look like she had been detained in some kind of institution. Like a prisoner of war maybe.
Or perhaps she looked more like Chandler's Great Uncle Albie.
Monica had never met the man, but that's what Chandler had mockingly told her whenever he had caught her wearing those ugly pajamas, back when they were still neighbors.
Back when she used to be able to take it for granted that she would see him every single day.
Another poignant clench in her heart prompted that reckless, dopey-eyed reflection girl to seize control.
She paced with careful conviction from bedroom to living room, calling Richard's name cautiously, then picking up the phone when she was confident that he was nowhere near.
"Hey, it's me," she whispered, her heart skipping and her face becoming relaxed and bright as soon as he picked up.
The effect of an unexpected, late evening call had the opposite effect on Chandler, however, sending him spinning immediately into panic mode.
"What is it? Has something happened? Are you OK?" he hissed.
"Everything's fine", she soothed, "I just wanted to hear your voice, that's all. I miss you so much."
She could hear the silent softening of his eyes just as well as she heard his loud sigh of relief.
"I miss you too. Is Richard out?"
"He just took Tilly out for her bedtime walk, so I won't be able to talk for too long." she explained, before suggesting with a mock-seductive smirk, "Hey. Ask me what I'm wearing..."
There was a significant, heavy pause on the line before Chandler finally responded in low, hoarse tones.
"Wh...what are you wearing?"
"The Great Uncle Albie pajamas!"
Her revelation was gleeful and Chandler guffawed.
"Honey, if this is your idea of sexy talk, I've gotta tell you, it's a little off-beat for me..."
"It just made me think of you when I put them on." she explained with a low giggle."I don't think I've worn them since I left Bedford Street. Richard hates them!"
Chandler flinched, somewhat gladdened that she was willfully wearing nightwear that was likely to repel Richard, but bothered by her divulgence that she had given up wearing them in the first place.
Admittedly, they were truly terrible pajamas; Chandler had teased her mercilessly whenever he had seen her wear them, and fully intended to continue doing so; but he also remembered her confiding that since they were the the only item of clothing that she had been able to keep hold of when she transitioned from overweight teen to svelte adult, she could not help but feel emotionally attached to them; telling him that they were, forever and always, the cosiest and most comforting garment she owned. The ones she always reached for when she was sad or low.
He hoped she would keep wearing them for as long as they made her feel that way.
"Well, if anyone can make Uncle Albie pajamas sexy, it's you, honey. But right now, I think I'm gonna keep picturing you in that black lacy thing you were wearing earlier, if that's OK..."
"I left that at your place. It's at the bottom of your drawer, underneath your t-shirts."
She knew that would make him smile. He liked finding little reminders of her hidden around his room. He had told her so a few times now. She had actually left her silver hair clip on his bedside table too, but she would let him discover that by himself.
"So... have you watched the movie yet?" she asked, her voice hesitant and husky. She reclined and stretched languidly on the sofa, biting her lip and feeling her flesh come alive as she began to mentally relive it.
"Funny you should ask. Joey and I are just about to put it on. He's making popcorn."
Monica rolled her eyes as she twirled a strand of hair around her fingers and crossed her legs, bringing them to rest on the arm of the sofa.
"Ha ha" she replied with a flirtatiously sarcastic smile "I didn't realize Joey was home."
Chandler's tone suddenly changed, and Monica immediately knew why.
"Uh yes, my roommate is home. He just walked in actually."
Once again, she knew that Joey's presence spelled the end of her time with Chandler, and Monica nodded a little sadly.
"Does he think you're talking to hot, blonde Stacey?"
"Yes, I think so".
"I'll bet he's all excited, and dancing about like an idiot. And making stupid faces," Monica scoffed as a vivid picture of the Italian formed in her mind.
Chandler chuckled as he confirmed her astute presumption.
"Exactly right!"
Monica gave a withering tut before softly accepting defeat.
"OK. Well I should probably say goodnight then. I'm sorry for calling so late. I just... " her words trailed away to nothing as she sighed deeply and closed her eyes, " I love you so much."
"Ditto"
He knew that she understood his tepid response was borne out of necessity.
"It was a real nice surprise to hear from you. Goodnight Uncle Albie."
Monica chuckled faintly.
"Night."
She clasped the retriever tight against her sternum and gazed moonily up at the ceiling for a moment, before leaving the sofa to retire to bed, the sound of footsteps in the hall inciting her to move that little bit faster.
Late night phone calls represented another unnecessary risk she supposed, but it was worth it.
He was worth it.
And despite the guilt, and the shame, and the various traumas of the day, she knew that because of him, she would fall asleep with a smile on her face.