Disclaimer: Don't own them.

Author's note: This story takes place in season 5. I realize that anyone reading this is probably at least as obsessed with this show as I am, but just as a reminder: Joey knows about C&M, Ross is living with Joey and Chandler. I know it's kinda lame to post a Christmas story in June, but I've been sitting on this story since, well, Christmas, and I only just now decided to start posting here. Anyway, enjoy.

Chapter 1

It was cold, windy and generally dreadful outside as Chandler let himself into the building, ducking his head into the collar of his coat to keep the icy snow from blowing into his face. But the weather could do nothing to dampen his spectacular mood. Once inside the building, he quickly checked the mail, then literally bounded up the stairs, a silly grin on his flushed face.

Tomorrow was Christmas Eve. It was a day he'd never given much thought to in the past. He didn't have any particular problems with Christmas; he didn't dread the holiday, but it wasn't something he really looked forward to, aside from getting a few days off work and enjoying the cheap thrill of opening gifts from friends. It certainly wasn't a holiday to get depressed about, a fact that most people who knew him took as something of a surprise. Sure, he had his problems with Thanksgiving _ damn holiday didn't mean anything anyway, and it was a sure reminder of his sorry childhood. But Christmas always turned out OK. He would either tag along with Joey for a giant Italian gathering, or join Monica and Ross at their parents' house.

So Christmas, for Chandler, was about friends and a big meal. Not too bad. And Christmas Eve, well, that was just a day off from work, akin to Memorial Day or Veterans Day. But not this year.

This year he had Monica, someone he strongly suspected he was falling crazy in love with. He'd blurted it right out a few weeks ago, taking both of them completely by surprise. And he'd immediately denied his feelings, refusing to admit even to himself that he felt that strongly about her. But now, he had his doubts. And he suspected that not only did he love her, but that it might be something more than that. That maybe she was the one. It was something that, in the past few years, he'd figured didn't exist for him. And now, here she was.

And tomorrow, Christmas Eve, they had to themselves. His first big holiday alone with Monica. On Christmas Day they were going to her parents' house. Ross was taking Ben there tomorrow night, and he was thrilled at the prospect of spending Christmas morning with his son for the first time. Joey and Phoebe were heading to his family's house tomorrow afternoon for a holiday extravaganza with the Tribiani clan. Rachel was leaving tonight, to spend two days with her mom and sisters. Then the gang planned to meet back at Monica and Rachel's Christmas night for dessert and gifts.

All the plans meant Monica and Chandler had her place to themselves Christmas Eve. Monica was making dinner, and they planned to exchange their "real" gifts that night, saving smaller token gifts to exchange in front of everyone the next day. Chandler was more excited to give Monica her gift than he was to receive his own. He'd been struck with a moment of brilliance a few weeks ago and splurged on an antique bracelet, similar to a family heirloom of hers that Rachel had lost when she borrowed it a few years ago.

Chandler considered all the plans with giddy excitement, the stupid grin still glued to his face, as he hit the last few steps before reaching his floor. He heard the boys screeching and thumping down the stairs before he saw them. In fact, he only caught a glimpse of a red shirt and blond hair before one of the boys plowed into him, his head down, the top of it smacking him hard in the chest. The air rushed out of Chandler's lungs so fast that he couldn't yell. He lost his balance and his footing, having enough time to realize he was going to fall down the stairs right before he did just that, tumbling backwards, striking the right side of his head on the last step before he rolled, unconscious, to a stop.

The boy tumbled after Chandler, landing in a heap on top of him. He immediately broke into apologies as his friend rushed up to his side. When he saw that Chandler had his eyes closed and wasn't responding, he looked quickly at his friend, panicked, and darted back up the stairs. His friend took another moment to study Chandler, then ran after him.

As Phoebe tromped past Central Perk through the ice and snow outside, she was tempted to dart in for a steamy cup of coffee before trudging the rest of the way to the apartment, just to rest her legs and warm her numb cheeks and nose. The storm outside, she'd heard, was one of the worst in recent history, and several of her customers had said it could last for days. In fact, she'd been told at the subway that she was lucky to make it to the station when she did, because they most likely were going to shut it down soon. The station workers couldn't keep up with shoveling snow away from the entrances and the tops of the stairs were dangerously slick with ice.

Doing her best to ignore the toasty customers sipping coffee on the inviting sofa inside Central Perk, Phoebe walked on by. As she drew up to the apartment building where Monica and Rachel lived, she saw a cab pull up. Rachel scooted out of the backseat, and Phoebe ducked into the lobby to wait for her friend, safely out of the wind and snow.

From inside the building, Phoebe couldn't see the scowl on Rachel's face as she gathered her bags together and stepped out of the cab, struggling to keep the door open against the wind.. She'd been lucky to get a taxi at all. The man driving her had said no one he knew was planning on driving for the rest of the night. Too many of the roads were closed, and he could feel his car alternately slipping in ice and sticking in banks of brown snow shoved against the curb.

Rachel was scowling not because of the cab driver's bad temper. She didn't mind his swearing every few seconds or yelling at the few other cars on the road, and was grateful that he'd taken pity on her and agreed to give her a lift the few blocks from the boutique where she'd been shopping to her home. The frown on her face was in anticipation of the miserable traveling day ahead of her. She was going to her mom's tonight, and while she was looking very much forward to the holiday _ for the first time in ages, both of her sisters would also be around, and the three of them were hoping to make up for years of missed bonding opportunities _ she also was dreading the painful process of dragging several pieces of heavy luggage loaded with clothes and gifts to the train station.

But it was only 5, two hours before she had to leave for the train station. That was two hours to settle herself in the apartment and finally get warm again. A hot shower and her bathrobe seemed like an excellent place to start.

Upstairs in Monica and Rachel's toasty apartment, Ross was glaring at the storm raging outside. The snow was coming down so thickly that it obscured the buildings across the street, and as far as he could tell there wasn't a single car on the road, just blankets of gray, muddy slush turning into hard ice.

Ross worried that the weather was going to spoil his plans with Ben. He was supposed to pick his son up from Carol's tomorrow afternoon, then go directly to the train station and up to his parents' house. If it looked as bad outside tomorrow as it did right now, though, he wasn't sure how those plans were going to work. He hated the idea of dragging his young son into a storm like this, but Ross was determined to make this a holiday Ben would remember. He knew his parents had splurged on several toys for their only grandchild, and he had been looking forward to, for the first time, waking early with Ben to watch him ripping through presents he thought were from Santa Claus.

Monica's laughter from the kitchen brought Ross out of his glum thoughts. She seemed so happy this year, he noticed. She often got a little depressed around Christmas when she wasn't dating anybody. This year, though, she was in high spirits. She was sitting in the kitchen now with Joey, looking through cookbooks and planning the dessert she would make for the gang when they all met up Christmas night. Joey was pushing for a simple chocolate layer cake, rich and decadent. Monica wanted to try something a little more challenging _ maybe a Christmas pudding or a delicate mousse.

"Come on, everyone loves chocolate," Joey moaned as Monica stopped on a picture of a creme brulee topped with toasted almonds. "I don't wanna eat any of those pansy French desserts."

Monica just rolled her eyes. "Do you realize how much sugar is in those desserts?" she asked. "Trust me, you'll like anything I make."

Ross drew away from the window, forcing himself to stop worrying about Ben and the weather. It would all clear up tomorrow, he told himself. It couldn't snow forever.

In the lobby downstairs, meanwhile, Rachel had stepped inside and tried a grin when she saw Phoebe. But her face was so numb from just the short walk from the cab to the door, smiling was difficult, and she settled for a quick "hey" instead.

"Damn, I can't believe how cold it is out there," Rachel said, unraveling the scarf wound tightly around her neck before picking up her packages again.

"I know," Phoebe said, pulling red gloves off her fingers. "I still can't feel my nose." And at that she pressed a warm hand flat onto her face, covering her nose and rubbing it furiously. Rachel stared at her for a minute, then started for the stairs, with Phoebe following close behind.

Rachel was describing her shopping adventures as they climbed the stairs, jabbering about the sparkly halter top she'd found for one sister and the platform-heeled sandals bought for the other. It was a wonder she'd been able to shop for summer clothes when it was so cold outside, Rachel admitted, but in the bright store the heating had been cranked up so high that even the bikini tops had looked appealing.

Phoebe had started to take an interest in the bikini discussion when suddenly Rachel stopped in front of her and gasped, muttering a quick, "Oh my God," and dropping her bags.

"Chandler!" Rachel gasped, her eyes opening wide as a hand shot up to her mouth. "What happened?"

He didn't answer. She dropped next to her friend, who was lying face up at the bottom of the stairs that lead to their floor, his legs still draped over the last few steps, his overcoat pulled up and tangled around his waist. His head was turned toward her. He was definitely unconscious, but he wasn't bleeding and she couldn't tell where he'd hit his head.

"He must have fallen," Phoebe said, hopping to the other side of Chandler and reaching out to touch his face. Chandler moaned softly at the contact and the women could see his eyes twitch as though he were dreaming.

"Oh my God," Rachel said again. "He's out cold. Go upstairs and call 911. And get someone down here to help us."

Chandler was beginning to wake up as Phoebe ran up the stairs. His head felt heavy and fuzzy, like in that half awake state just before he fell asleep at night. He could feel his head pounding at his temples, and when he tried to move to the right, it was like a heavy weight was being pushed into that side of his head, just above his ear. He moaned again, louder this time, as the pain intensified on the right side of his head, feeling like a metal rod was being poked against his brain. Then he heard someone talking.

"Chandler? Wake up. Come on, open your eyes. Are you OK?" Rachel asked him, placing the palm of her hand against his forehead.

"Monica?" Chandler whispered, very confused. What was going on?

"No, it's Rachel," Rachel said, placing her left hand on his chest. "Are you OK? Can you move?"

Can he move? It seemed like an odd question. He didn't know how to answer it. He didn't have to, though, as Monica came sprinting down the stairs, followed by Ross and Joey.

"Chandler? Oh, God, what happened? Is he OK?" she yelled, joining Rachel at the bottom of the stairs. She leaned in close to his face, placing one hand on the top of his head, the other on his right shoulder. She was running her fingers through his hair, watching his eyes as he slowly opened them.

"Mon?" he asked, risking another turn of his head to lean toward her voice.

"I don't know what happened," Rachel said, answering Monica's question. "But he was totally out when we found him. Is Phoebe calling 911?"

"Yeah," Ross said, standing at Chandler's feet, his arms crossed at his chest as looked down at his friend. "We shouldn't move him, guys. If he fell down the stairs, he could've broken something."

Monica was nodding her head, her eyes never leaving Chandler's face. When his eyes had finally opened, she saw that his pupils were dilated, leaving just a halo of blue around the black centers. He looked up at her, squinting and clearly confused.

"What's going on?" Chandler asked. He could tell now that he was lying down in the hallway, his legs at an uncomfortable angle on the stairs. Monica, Rachel and Joey were crouched around him, it seemed, all staring into his face. He blinked to try and clear his head, and then moved to sit up.

"No, don't move," Monica demanded, as she and Rachel moved their hands to his chest to hold him down. "You might have hurt your neck or something."

Chandler just frowned.

"I'm OK," he said. "Just hit my head. I want to get up."

Monica looked like she didn't believe him, her brows creased and forehead wrinkled in concern. But if he felt OK, she figured, maybe he was.

"All right," Monica said, moving her left hand under his head to support the back of his neck. "Joey, let's help him up."

Joey moved behind Chandler, bracing his friend's shoulders and back as he sat up. Chandler paused once he was up on his elbows, feeling suddenly dizzy from the motion. Ross, sensing that Chandler was going to have a hard time standing and walking, moved next to Monica and grabbed hold of his right shoulder while Joey shuffled to the side and held Chandler's left shoulder. Together, they pulled him back, away from the stairs, so he could get his feet under him. Then they wrapped his arms around their own shoulders and slowly pulled him up.

Ross could feel Chandler's legs buckling, and quickly slipped his left arm around his waist, Joey doing the same thing from his side. Then they guided him up the short flight of stairs to their floor. Chandler found the whole process mildly disturbing. He was having such a hard time concentrating that he could barely focus on just placing one foot in front of the other, never mind standing on his own. So he closed his eyes and relied on instincts and his friends to guide him upstairs. By the time they reached the top, his head felt almost like a bowling ball, rolling between his shoulders.

Ross and Joey were practically dragging him now, and pulled him into Monica and Rachel's apartment, where Phoebe was standing in the open doorway, her head to the phone.

"I'm on hold. Can you believe it? What kind of 911 are they running over there?" she said, then shouted in the receiver, "You hear me? You're useless. Useless!"

The men dragged Chandler to the couch, where they eased him into the middle, his head immediately tipping back to rest on the back cushions. Monica slipped to his right side, placing a hand on his face and turning it to look at him. His face was pale, even the flush on his cheeks from the cold wind outside already gone, and he kept scrunching his eyes in pain.

"He really doesn't look good," Rachel said, standing a few steps back and shaking her head slowly. "What should do?"

"Chandler? Chandler? Come on, honey, wake up, OK?" Monica said.

He opened his eyes again, blinking a few times at her before he seemed to become aware of who she was. Then he looked slowly around the room, his eyes finally settling on Joey, who had taken a seat to his left.

"What happened?" he asked, speaking barely louder than a whisper.

"We're not sure," Rachel said, moving in closer to crouch in front of him and resting a hand on his knee. "Phoebe and I found you at the bottom of the stairs. You don't remember what happened?"

Chandler closed his eyes for a minute, his forehead crinkled as he tried to remember, then just shook his head once. He felt so tired. His head hurt, but more than the pain, it felt strangely heavy and yet empty at the same time. He could hear his friends speaking around him, and suspected some of the voices might be directed at him, but he couldn't be bothered to concentrate on them and figure out what they were saying.

"We really should get him to a hospital," Ross said.

"I'm trying," Phoebe yelled, her patience wearing thin as she glared at Ross. "Oh, wait, the music just ended. God, I hate that Celine Dion crap. Damn, it's more music. Oh, Foo Fighters, good enough." She turned her back to Ross and Rachel, a guilty smile on her face as she bopped her head to the music.

"What do you think, guys? Should we wake him up? Should we put him to bed? Should he eat something? Drink something? What if he has amnesia? What if he's got some kind of brain damage?" Monica was starting to panic. She kept running her hand through his hair, darting looks around the room as though hoping to see something that might prove useful. She spotted a blanket on the back of the couch and pulled it into her lap, then wrapped it around Chandler.

"I don't know, Mon," Ross said. "I think with head injuries, you're supposed to keep them awake or something. Or maybe you're supposed to let them sleep? If we're not getting through to 911, maybe we should-"

"Yes, I'm here," Phoebe yelled suddenly. "Hi, yes, my friend, we think he fell down the stairs, hit his head. He was knocked out when we found him. ... No, he woke up. ... Well, you weren't answering, so we brought him upstairs. ... Guys, did he break anything?"

"Doesn't look like it," Monica said. She had already run her hands over his limbs to look for painful spots and obvious broken bones. "I think it's just his head."

"No, we don't think anything's broken. ... What do you mean, not an emergency? ... Not enough of an emergency? ... Well, what if I told you his neck was broken? ... That's right, maybe it's broken. Maybe he's, like, screaming in pain right now. ... Just because you can't hear him doesn't mean he's not in pain. ... Yes, I'm taking this very seriously. My friend is hurt and you're not helping. ... Oh. ... Uh huh. ... Um, OK. ... Really? It's that bad? ... Yeah, I've got a pen. No, wait. Where the hell is the phone pen, Monica?"

Monica just glared at Rachel.

"I had an urgent diary moment," Rachel said, shrugging but looking guilty nonetheless. "Here, I've got one in my purse."

Phoebe grabbed the pen, got back on the phone and then wrote down a number. And then she hung up.

"Phoebs, what's going on?" Joey asked, looking alarmed.

"This is terrible. The weather's so bad they aren't sending ambulances out unless it's like life or death or something. So she gave me this phone number to call for an advice. Man, did Chandler pick a really bad day to fall down the stairs."

"Here, give it to me," Monica said, grabbing the phone and dialing the number that Phoebe had written on her hand. A woman answered the phone.

As Monica told the nurse what had happened to Chandler, Ross, Rachel and Joey backed off, joining Phoebe in the kitchen. They watched as Monica followed directions from the nurse, asking Chandler simple questions like his name and birthrate and what day of the week it was. He was answering quietly, but they noticed it was taking him awhile to respond to her questions, and Monica kept having to tap his face softly to rouse him.

"Do you think he'll be OK?" Joey asked, his eyes still glued to the couch. "He seems pretty bad off."

"It's probably a concussion," Phoebe said suddenly. "His pupils were dilated, although the right one seemed larger than the left, and his pulse was faint and rapid, his breathing shallow. It's pretty obvious."

At the open-mouthed expressions on her friends' faces, she shrugged and said simply, "Come on, you guys, concussion? That's basic stuff. That's totally first-year med school. Too bad I dropped out before they told us how to treat these things."

"Phoebs, you were in medical school?" Ross asked, his eyes round in disbelief.

"Oh no, I just took a few classes. You know, you live on the street, you've gotta get some of the basics down."

Ross wanted to ask more questions, but Monica was asking for a piece of paper and a pen. The nurse was giving her instructions. She wrote for a few minutes, then thanked the women and hung up.

"The nurse thinks he has a concussion," Monica said, ignoring Phoebe's smug nod and grin. "She said he ordinarily would go to a hospital, but I can take care of him here. He can sleep, but for the next 12 hours I've got to wake him up every hour, ask him some questions, talk to him. And she said he may get really sick later on, if it's serious. Man, I hope it's not serious."

Monica could feel her eyes welling with tears, and forced herself to take deep breaths and slowly stroked his hair. She was very worried about Chandler. The nurse said it was likely that he would be just fine in a few days. But she also had to add that head injuries can be very serious, life threatening even, and if, at some point, Monica couldn't wake him or he forgot simple things like his name, or if he started bleeding from his ears or mouth, she should call 911 again and insist that they send an ambulance. Monica was tempted to do just that right now. Why, after all, wait for the worst to happen? But she figured there was a reason they weren't sending out ambulances, and she didn't want to risk lives just because she was overreacting.

"Joey, why don't you go to your place and get him some comfortable clothes. He can stay here, so we don't have to move him across the hall. In fact, let's get him in my bed," Monica said.

Joey started to comment on her last statement, but a quick elbow from Ross stopped him before he got a word out. So he just nodded and left.

"Here, Mon, let me help you," Ross said, moving to Chandler's left side so he could help him stand.

"Hey, what's going on?" Chandler asked, his words slurring as Monica and Ross pulled him up. "Where're we going?"

"Relax, sweetie, you're going to sleep in my room tonight," Monica said softly, shifting under his arm to get a firmer grip on him.

"Sshhh, everyone's here," Chandler said, sounding drunk and tired, his eyes opening halfway to glance around the room. "It's a secret, 'member?"

Ross looked at Monica, confused by his comments, but she just raised her eyebrows, implying that she had no idea what he was talking about. They shuffled with him between them into her room, Rachel rushing in front of them to pull back the covers on Monica's bed. As they sat him down, Joey walked in with a pair of sweat pants, a gray T-shirt and a zip-front sweatshirt, setting the clothes on the bed.

"OK, let's change his clothes, then we can let him lie down," Monica said, pulling off his overcoat and starting to unbutton his shirt.

"Uh, Mon, don't you think we should be doing this?" Ross asked, pointing at himself and Joey. "I don't think Chandler wants you to see him, like, nearly naked."

"Come on, Ross, he barely even knows we're in here," Monica said. "Grow up and help me take off his pants."

"When you're done, wanna help me change clothes?" Joey asked, earning glares from Monica and Ross. He just bowed his head, then kneeled down to take off Chandler's shoes.

Once the three of them had him dressed and tucked into the bed, Monica set off for the kitchen to get him some water and ibuprofen for later, and Joey and Ross joined Rachel and Phoebe in the living room. It was an unusual sight, Rachel realized _ the four of them sitting there, and no one was laughing, or even smiling.