The One With The Big Secret

By: Jana

Prologue

XXX

-The history books would later tell of how this was the worst Thanksgiving in all the world, Monica was sure of it.

Strolling unhurriedly, she made her way back to the waiting room with her diet coke, stewing over the night's events. Flirting with Chandler, in retrospect, was a horrible idea, but at the time, when Rachel had suggested it, she had eagerly agreed, wanting to get back at the man for his hurtful comments made exactly one year ago.

She would lead him on, make him think they were going to have sex, then when he got naked, she would steal his clothes and lock him out of the house so that the neighbors would laugh at him. But nothing went right from the very beginning.

Even though Rachel told her how to flirt, it came across all weird, and only made her fluster more when she realized her attempts at seduction weren't working. Then, the catastrophe. Juggling too many items at once, the knife she had picked up seconds before slipped, dropping to the floor in what seemed like slow motion. They both seemed equally as shocked as they watched it fall point of blade down, straight for his sandaled foot.

Monica shuddered as she remembered the sound he'd made, the blood pouring out between the wicker of his shoes. Chaos quickly ensued, and as the paramedics arrived, Monica grabbed the small piece of toe that was amputated and threw it in a bag of ice, jumping into the family car with her parents and brother fifteen minutes later and following the ambulance to the hospital.

Only, it wasn't Chandler's toe she had grabbed. Not wanting to look at it, she only glanced briefly before grabbing the little nub off the floor and shoving it into the sandwich baggie filled with party ice, without making visual confirmation. What she had actually grabbed, was a piece of carrot. All the doctor could do was sew up the wound, leaving Chandler forever without his pinky toe.

Guilt gnawed at her as she stepped into the waiting room, sighing as she plopped down into the plastic chair nearest her father.

"Dad," she muttered, looking to the floor. "I think we should let Chandler stay the night at our house. It's getting late, and that's a bit of a drive, back to the college."

"You honestly think that's gonna make up for you cutting off his toe?" Ross asked his sister flippantly, receiving a glare back from her in response.

"Shut up, Ross," she snipped, then turned her attention again towards her father. "Please, Dad?"

"Well, if he wants to," Jack Geller muttered, ignoring his children's squabbling, "Then I suppose he could stay in the guest room."

Monica threw a smug look at her brother, then kissed her father on the cheek. "Thanks, Dad. Ross?" she addressed him as she looked in his direction. "Could you tell him? He won't stay if he knows I suggested it. He hates me now."

Ross scoffed. "Do you blame him?" he questioned her as he pushed off the chair and headed for and out the door.

"No," she whispered to herself, her head hung low. "I don't blame him."

XXX

-Chandler accepted the invite to stay the night in the Geller's guest room, the long day and pain medication making him drowsy and not at all excited about driving back to the dorm rooms where he lived with Ross. Even with Ross driving, the cramped car was bound to be uncomfortable.

Monica apologized relentlessly, to which she was given forgiveness each and every time, but she just knew by the expression Chandler wore, and by his tone of voice, that he was only paying her lip service. For her parent's benefit, and possibly her brother's, too, she guessed.

Hobbling on crutches, he thanked the Geller's for their hospitality before disappearing into the guestroom for the night, not to be seen again for hours.

Everyone had turned in shortly after Chandler did, leaving Monica alone on the couch, her guilt and crappy programming on TV her only company. She was just about to head for bed, even though she wasn't tired and knew she wouldn't be able to sleep, when she heard the guestroom door open. Emerging from the hall seconds later, Chandler actually seemed startled to see her sitting there.

"I didn't think anyone was still up," he muttered, adding as he pointed towards the TV set, "Why are you watching it on mute?"

"I didn't want to wake anyone," she answered with a shrug, then clicked it off and stood to face him. "Can't sleep?"

Looking away and to the floor, he told her, "The pain meds wore off. I was just going to get a glass of water so I could take another one."

"I can get that for you," she offered eagerly, immediately stepping towards the kitchen.

"You don't have to," he said, following behind her, but at a much slower pace. "I can get it."

The tone he used made his feelings about her obvious. He hated her.

Ignoring him and grabbing a glass from the cupboard, she sighed as she said to him, "You have every right to hate me, but let me at least get you a glass of water, so you don't have to struggle with it, alright?"

"I don't hate you," he told her, watching as she filled the glass at the tap. "I just- I don't understand what happened."

Turning to face him, she asked, "What don't you understand? And where's your pills?"

"Back in the room," he answered, gesturing back towards it with a jerk of his head. "I was going to take the water back with me."

"Alright," she shrugged, then headed for the door that separated kitchen from livingroom. When he made no move to follow, she stopped and glanced back at him. "Coming?"

He nodded slight, then shifted his weight and worked the crutches, falling in line behind her as she led the way.

"What don't you understand?" she asked again as she set his glass of water on the nightstand table next to the bed, moving so he could hobble up and take a seat at the edge of the mattress.

"I don't know," he said, looking away and grabbing his bottle of pain medication. "You were acting, I don't know, weird."

"I know," she sighed, her eyes dropping to the floor. "I'm sorry about that," she apologized for the millionth time. "I'm sorry for all of it."

"Yeah," he scoffed, popping the pill in his mouth and swallowing it down with the water. "So you've said. But, that doesn't really answer my question."

"What's your question?" she asked, tensing when his sharp blue eyes met hers.

"Why were you acting like that?" he asked her, his tone and gaze intense.

Admitting it would be beyond embarrassing, Monica knew, but he deserved to know the truth. Not being able to give him his pinky toe back, she could at least give him that.

"I was, trying to, flirt with you," she stammered, looking away out of necessity; she could feel her cheeks redden before the sentence was even out of her mouth.

"That was some really bad flirting," he said with a smirk, and she met his eyes again when she heard the hint of humor in his tone.

"Yeah, well, I've never done that before. Apparently," she added, smiling slightly, "I suck at it."

"Maiming someone is never what you want, when you're trying to let them know you like them," he teased good-naturedly, swinging his legs onto the bed.

"I know that much," she laughed, joining him by sitting on the edge and at the foot of the bed. "It wasn't like I set out to injure you."

Nodding, he asked, "What did you set out to do? What were you hoping to accomplish?"

"Not sure," she lied, shrugging her shoulders. "I didn't think it all the way through."

"Interesting," he muttered, his gaze shifting to the stripes on the bedsheet. "So, do you need to rush off to bed, or can you hang for a bit?"

There was a bridge of sorts being built, she realized, and she smiled shyly as she nodded her head in response to his question, whispering, "I can hang."

"Cool."

To be continued

Author's note:

This story is no longer available as a fanfic. Sorry for the inconvenience.

MTLBYAKY