Right, I realise that you're probably thinking, 'hey, Minichedder keeps dropping off the face of the planet, then appearing with a new story', well, you wouldn't be entirely wrong, would you? I'm sorry I keep leaving you, and then coming back, I'm like a very irritating boomerang aren't I?
Well, anyway, 'Protecting an Angel' and 'Class' are both still in the pile of stuff I need to do, but, 'The Beauty of it', I have the worst case of writers block, so that's been put on hold for the time being.
Okay, so this story was born from many ideas. Firstly, I saw the advert for Matthew Perry's new show, Go On, where he loses his wife, and me being such a big friends fan thought of Monica, and how Chandler would be if Monica died... Then, I had this weird dream where this guy (some random person, no idea who he was) went missing, then I had this huge need to write something all angsty and dramatic... so, in short of it, I came up with this idea- I can't say much more, 'sept please give it a go, please do. I know this chapter will likely throw some of you Mondler fans off, but they won't all be this sad and angsty... And you might like it. It is Mondler, and hopefully, you'll all want to read it. Please give it a chance, it isn't as bad as it sounds.
I still do not own friends- and once again, apologies for mistakes with spelling, English is not my native language.
His fingers trembled uncontrollably as he flicked the small silver lighter on with his thumb repeatedly, trying desperately to shield the small golden flame from the evenings bitter wind long enough to light the cigarette. Finally the flame danced around the end of the lighter long enough for Chandler to light yet another one of his cigarettes. Looking down at the empty streets below him, Chandler took a long drag from the cigarette, breathing in the fumes like it was oxygen, he inhaled slowly, allowing the smoke to fill his lungs and momentarily ease some of his pain. Gripping the edge of the balcony for support, Chandler exhaled slowly and the white-grey smoke left his lungs and floated off into the air, polluting it with its foul smell. A wind blew through his unkempt hair as he coughed dryly, he observed New York miserably, in the city that never sleeps, busy and bustling day and night; but Chandler couldn't remember feeling more alone.
"Smoking again, seriously?"
Chandler squeezed his eyes closed tightly and his fingernails dug into the course, rough edge of the balcony as he gripped it harder. Why couldn't they leave him alone for once?
"What do you want, Rachel?" Chandler asked, without turning around or opening his eyes, "Leave me alone," he said, in a tone that was a cold and empty as the night around him.
He heard her heels clicking against the concrete as she approached him, she came to his left and he turned away from her, not in the mood for another lecture.
"You know what we want," she sighed softly, he tensed as her hand brushed against his and she attempted to prise the cigarette from his unwilling fingers.
"Leave me alone," Chandler said gruffly again.
"Come inside, Chandler, its freezing," Rachel said, "And you know that she hated you smoking, even more than I do."
Chandler extinguished the cigarette against the wall of the balcony before tossing it over the edge, "Happy now?" he asked sardonically.
"You know I'm not," Rachel said, "None of us are, but what you're doing, it's- it's not healthy, Chandler."
"I don't give a shit about healthy anymore, Rachel," Chandler said, "Leave me alone."
Rachel sighed again, "Sweetie, it's been four months."
Chandler shuffled away from her slightly, still squeezing his eyes closed, "What's that got to do with anything?"
"You know what I mean," Rachel said sadly, "Chandler, honey, she isn't coming back."
"Chandler, she isn't," Rachel argued, sounding miserable and sympathetic, " Monica isn't coming back, she's dea-"
"Don't say it," Chandler shouted, cutting her off before she could finish what she was saying. His eyes opened again to reveal two tired, bloodshot and dull blue eyes, he shook his head."Don't you dare say it," he repeated.
Rachel bit her lip and walked towards him slowly, "Honey, she's gone... And-and she isn't coming back."
"You don't know that," Chandler looked at her, staring into her eyes for the first time. He looked older, so much older, with a rim of puffy red skin around his eyes and the gleam gone from within the blueness, it broke her heart to see him like this.
"Chandler," she said slowly, "Monica isn't coming back. They found her car and-"
"They didn't find her," Chandler interrupted her again. "Monica isn't dea-" he stopped abruptly and closed his eyes, "She hasn't gone, she's still out there somewhere," he continued after a few moments, his voice softer and more vulnerable than before.
"When was the last time you slept, Chandler?" Rachel asked. He shrugged.
"Come back inside and sleep, okay?" Rachel said softly, he shook his head in defiance, "Come on, we're worried about you."
Chandler scoffed, "Leave me alone, Rach, please."
Rachel remained persistent, "No, Chandler," she said, "You need help or something, Monica isn't coming back."
"She is," Chandler argued, "They never found her, just a bunch of her stuff."
"You heard what the police said, we all did," Rachel said, "There was enough evidence, she ran away and-"
"No, she didn't," Chandler shouted at her, Rachel stopped in her tracks and took a step back from him, "Does that sound like something Monica would do?"
"Does that sound like something Monica would do?" Chandler shouted again, tears now flowing freely down his face, Rachel shook her head slowly. "Exactly, Monica wouldn't leave me like that," Chandler said, "She didn't pack a bag, or quit work or-or anything, we had dinner plans for the night at her favourite restaurant, her clothes were laid out on the bed," he shouted, by this time, Rachel was crying too.
"Okay, so she didn't run away, but she is gone, Chandler," Rachel said tearfully, "They found her car, all her blood and-"
"They still didn't find her," Chandler shouted, "Monica isn't d-" he couldn't finish the sentence, her ran his fingers through his hair, "I know my wife, she isn't-"
"Yes she is," Rachel shouted, "We don't want to know it, but we do, Monica is-"
"No she isn't," Chandler yelled, crying on the verge of hysteria, "Why is everyone so willing to say goodbye?" he asked.
Despite trying to remain calm with him, Rachel's temper flared, "Don't you say that," she shouted at him, "We all loved her, we all still love her, but she is gone, Chandler."
"If you all love her, why am I the only one who still looking for her?"
"Do you think that if there was even the slightest bit of hope that Monica is still out there, we'd do something?" Rachel asked, furiously drying her tears so she could look at Chandler, "You need some kind of help."
"I don't," Chandler said quietly, his voice was breaking slightly as he struggled to breathe through the tears, "If she really was gone, they'd of found a body, but they didn't. People don't disappear of the face of the earth, Rachel."
"I know," Rachel said, she took a deep breath and walked over to him again, "I know, sweetie, but people don't go missing for four months after losing that amount of blood in the middle of nowhere, then come home," she touched his shoulder, "Chandler, Monica is dead."
Chandler pushed her away, "No she isn't," he said, "Go away, Rachel, get out."
"Get out," Chandler shouted, pushing her back towards the apartment.
Rachel climbed through the window and looked at him, "What happened to you, Chandler?" she asked, "I hate to be so blunt Chandler but, but you need to look at the facts, Monica is dead, you can't- you can't go on pretending anymore, it's not doing you any good."
"Get out," Chandler shouted again, Rachel shook her head and walked off, leaving Chandler alone. He sat on the balcony floor and cried, twisting his wedding ring around in his fingers. Monica wasn't dead. She couldn't be. She was out there somewhere, and he will find her.
I know that some of you aren't going to like this- but, please give me a chance. Come back for a few more chapters, and you might find you like it. Who knows, Chandler might be right? Please review, but no angry reviews... I tend to get them often...