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"Monica?" he asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and trying to make out the form standing opposite him on the other side of the glass storm door. After giving his eyes proper time to adjust, he was able to decipher that the woman was definitely Monica, clad in an enormous poncho and getting drenched from the sheets of rain that were falling from the night sky. He looked down at his watch. 3:17 am.
"Hi," she replied, holding her hand up awkwardly. He opened the glass door, reached out and pulled her inside. She drops off rain rolled off her waterproof cloak and onto the floor in the foyer as she attempted to shake herself dry. He helped her pull the whole thing off and place it on the coat rack beside the door.
"What are you doing here?" he whispered, scared of waking his parents. It wasn't until then that he became very conscious of the fact that he was wearing boxers and nothing else. He crossed his arms over his chest out of habit.
"I, um...Ugh, Chandler, this whole thing is driving my crazy," she finally admitted, shrugging her shoulders as if she could shake the stress and worriment away.
"Uh, you're going to have to throw me a bone here, Mon. It's 3:30 in the morning. My brain doesn't start functioning until at least 8," he replied, turning to descend the stairs to his right and hoping she'd follow. She did.
"All of this stuff with Rachel. I know it's really selfish of me, but between having to be her best friend through all of this and having to be Ross' sister...I think I'm going insane. I mean, it's affecting me too, you know? But I don't even have time to THINK about that."
Chandler nodded and went to go sit on the small couch in his room, motioning for Monica to sit beside him. His house was a split-level and the entire downstairs served as his basement. He had not had time to turn the light on before answering the door, so they sat and talked in complete darkness.
"Well," he offered, smiling at her through the pitch of the room, "you can think about it now. Tell ME how you feel."
"God, I feel awful. I'm such a terrible person."
"What?" he asked, obviously confused. He reached out and rubbed her arm. "Why would you say that? I don't think you have one terrible...particle in your body."
"No, you don't understand. Rachel and I...we- we had this conversation a few months ago. I told her I was jealous of her- which I guess I always have been, really- and I totally made light of the fact that she was sexually harassed by that guy at the club. I think I even remember telling her she was LUCKY to have guys treat her that way..." He thought he could hear her voice begin to tremble. He couldn't see her face clearly enough, though, to tell if she was crying or not. "And now, with all of this...I just can't believe I ever said that. I feel awful!"
"Aw, come here," he coaxed, pulling her into his lap on the sofa and stroking her hair and back. "It'll be okay," he whispered into her hair. "I'm sure she doesn't even remember that, sweety. You're her best friend and she knows you would never do or say anything to intentionally hurt her."
Monica cried quietly against his chest for a little while and allowed him to rub her back and run his hands over her arms. She had to admit, it did make her feel a little better. Her heart began to race and she was even getting a little dizzy. Finally, she pulled away and scooted back a bit so she could look at him again.
"Do you think they're going to be okay?" Chandler asked her, obviously referring to Ross and Rachel. Monica said nothing for a few seconds.
"I think they love each other enough," she finally replied, not directly answering the question. They both knew the implication, though.
