I Drove All Night

AN: Another old oneshot! I’ve cleaned this one up as well, and hopefully it’s a little better for it :)

It was originally a songfic, based on the Celine Dion/Cyndi Lauper hit I Drove all Night, but the song has since been removed, since songfics are pure awfulness. No worries there.

I actually quite like the way this one turned out. It isn’t the best ever, but it’s a cute little drama/fluff piece. Enjoy :D

xx

Monica concentrated on the dull glow of the computer screen in front of her, willing it not to slide in and out of focus. She sighed deeply, wanting nothing more than to go home. Not to the lavish one-bedroom apartment the company she worked for supplied for her. Sure it was nice, but it was so lonely and foreign. Even the furniture was foreign; the apartment had come fully furnished. It certainly wasn’t what she’d consider a ‘home,’ it just didn’t have the personal touches of one.

In fact, she felt much more at home when she was anywhere in the city except for her supposed home.

She figured that was why she had forced herself to adapt to working such late hours. It was an excuse. A reason she could use to avoid the loneliness and desolation that her apartment offered. Nothing more and nothing less. She simply just didn’t feel comfortable in Boston.

New York was her true home, where she belonged. Well… where she had belonged at one point. She wasn’t sure if she even belonged there anymore. What if the tight knit group of six she had once been a part of had mended itself, and become a tightly knit group of five, and no longer needed her?

Monica sighed, for what must have been the twentieth time that hour alone.

She glanced hurriedly at the illuminated green numbers of the digital clock on her desk. It was three minutes past ten. On a Saturday night.

‘No one should be working on a Saturday. Let alone at 10 at night on a Saturday,’ Monica thought bitterly, ‘What did I do to deserve this depressing life?’ Monica sighed once again and ignored her own rhetorical question. She knew perfectly well the situation she was faced with was her own fault and no one else’s.

Just over two months ago, Monica had received a job offer to be a writer for a popular east-coast cooking show, Delicieux. Immediately, she had been blinded by the sizable paycheck and possibility of her recipes being viewed on television. In her blindness, she failed to realize accepting the job would mean losing everything she had ever known and been comforted by. If she accepted the new career, she would have to live in Boston. Her friends and boyfriend had seemed like an inadequate reason to stay. She would make new friends and there was nothing wrong with having a long distance relationship. Right?

Her friends had disagreed.

So she had left, with only Ross to see her off. The rest of her friends and Chandler, her then boyfriend, were angry at her sudden decision and refused to see her off, partly out of spite, and partly because they knew they wouldn’t be able to handle seeing her leave. Chandler in particular had been hurt at her insistence that this was the best thing for her.

“Chandler, you know, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity! Imagine what this could do for my career! This is the best thing that has ever happened to me! I can’t just give it up, without at least thinking about it first. It’s not fair for you to be so judgmental of me over this! If you’d had a chance at something like this I’d want you to consider it!” Monica snipped, irritated at his refusal to see her side of things.

“The ‘best thing’ that’s ever happened to you, huh?” Chandler wondered, covering the hurt he was feeling with his irate tone, “Well, I guess that leaves me with second prize! If even that! Is Richard the second best? Or maybe Pete? How far down on the list, exactly, am I? I always knew this,” he gestured between himself and Monica, “was too good to be true. My heart was bound to be broken sooner or later. Like it always is.”

“You’re twisting my words around and acting like I’m doing this specifically to hurt you!” Monica snapped back, angrily. “I’m not! It has nothing to do with you or your stupid insecurities! This is about my career and me. If you can’t see that…” she trailed off, knowing the threat was idle.

“This has nothing to do with me or my insecurities!” Chandler mocked her in a high-pitched voice, his face set in a furious scowl. “It has to do with you choosing your career over me! You’re right,” he spat sarcastically, “that sounds like it has nothing to do with me at all!”

“You’re not being fair!” Monica growled, “I’m not choosing my career over you! We can still have a relationship! People have long distance relationships all the time! This is not unfixable. You’re just being stubborn!”

“Long-distance relationships never work out, Monica!” Chandler argued, “And you know it! We might as well save ourselves the hassle and end it now! I don’t want to stick this out only to have our relationship die a slow and painful death as time and distance tear us apart! If you take this job, it will kill our relationship and you know it. And you think I’m being unfair? I’ll tell you what’s not fair!” he exclaimed, “My girlfriend, the woman I was prepared to spend the rest of my life with, is willing to sacrifice our relationship, for a job. I would never do that to you. Never. There is not a job on this earth that would make me leave you.”

Monica gave him an angry glare before yelling, “I never said that I was choosing my career over you! Stop being so stubborn and pretending I don’t love you! You know I do!”

“But you are, aren’t you? How I am supposed to think any differently? Do you really love me more than your career? If I asked you to, would you reject this job offer, for me… for us?” Chandler asked pointedly.

Monica remained silent. Chandler looked her in the eye, silently, giving her one last chance to speak, his eyes pleading with her to say that she didn’t mean anything she had just said, and that she only wanted him.

She didn’t move.

He bowed his head slightly and pursed his lips, “I see.” He turned on his heel and moved to stomp out the door. He paused the doorknob in his hand, “Hey Mon,” he said in an eerily calm voice, “Do what you want, this relationship is dead to me.” With that, he twisted the knob harshly and stomped out the door, making sure to slam it behind him.

Only once he was gone, and she was left with the echoing sound of the slammed door filling the apartment, did Monica allow herself to break down and cry.

Ever since that day she had regretted staying silent. One simple word could have changed her life, for the better.

If only she’d known the hell her ‘opportunity of a lifetime’ would turn out to be, she would have never thought twice about leaving. If only she’d thought about how much Chandler meant to her, and how much losing him would kill her inside, she wouldn’t have even considered leaving an option. But now, he was off in New York hating her. His last words to her were imprinted on her brain, serving as a constant reminder of how badly she had hurt him. The thought made her feel shaky and weak. How could she have turned someone who had once loved her so much into someone who hated her?

When Monica had reached Boston, her ‘once in a lifetime’ job was nothing like she had expected.

Substituting the huge, fully stocked kitchen she had expected was a small, cramped office. Even that wasn’t her own; she shared it with two others. Her job was essentially to research food and recipes. When she had been told she would be choosing recipes for the show, she had naïvely assumed that she would be the one creating and testing them. But that was definitely not the case, the only cooking involved in her job was whatever she decided to make herself for lunch that day in the small lunch room.

She quickly realized what her friends had been trying to tell her all along. Instead of hastily accepting a job offer in another city, without knowing all the details, she should have taken her time to better understand what she was doing and weigh the pros and cons of it.

Now she was stuck. Instead of returning to New York and admitting she had been wrong to her friends, Monica held her wounded pride above her happiness and pursued a career she had absolutely no interest in continuing in. At least it paid well, she thought bitterly.

She hadn’t spoken to Chandler since that fateful night. He hadn’t returned to their apartment that night, or any other night for the last week Monica had remained in New York, opting to stay with Joey instead. She had hardly spoken to any of the others, either. She was surprised by their friends’ faithfulness to Chandler. Even Phoebe and Rachel, whom she had considered closer to her than Chandler had taken his side of the argument. Now that Monica had had time to reflect on the situation, she realized it had probably been because they were as hurt as he was over the situation. Chandler might be losing his girlfriend, but they were each losing a best friend. Joey, of course was fiercely protective of his best friend, and had refused to even consider Monica’s side of the story. He knew she had hurt Chandler and that was all he had needed to know before making his decision.

Only Ross still spoke to her, more out of duty as her brother than anything else. He’d told her that Chandler had specifically asked him to tell her that he did not want her to call him to apologize or for any other reason, he just didn’t want to speak to her, period. Monica felt helpless. That was one thing she definitely did not enjoy feeling. Being in control of all aspects of her life was what kept her sane. She truly wanted to respect his wishes, but there was always a part of her that argued she had to fight for him and make him see her point of view. She couldn’t leave their relationship so unresolved.

She’d once made the mistake of asking Ross how Chandler was, a few weeks after she’d arrived in Boston.

“So how’s Chandler?” She asked, trying her best to sound casual and upbeat. Breezy even. She failed miserably.

“Look, Monica,” he demanded, “can we not talk about this?”

“I just want to know how he’s doing,” she pressed stubbornly, telling herself she just wanted to check to see that he was coping okay now that she had left. ‘Or rather,’ her brain taunted her, ‘you just want to see if he’s as miserable as you are! Cowardly and jealous, that’s all you are!’

“Monica. I don’t think this is the bes-” Ross started, only to be interrupted.

“It’s a simple question, Ross!” she spat out in her frustration, “Just answer it. Please!”

“You really want to talk about Chandler, huh? I don’t think you want to hear this, but you’re so damn stubborn and God knows you always have to have your way. He’s fine. Better than fine, actually!” Ross spat spitefully down the line, “He went on a blind date last night. He’s still living in apartment twenty; though he just moved a good chunk of your stuff out and put it into storage and brought in his own furniture last week. He really is starting to move on.” Ross, told Monica, the malice in his voice subsiding only a little. Even though she was his sister and he loved her, he was as angry with her as the rest. In that moment he felt particularly spiteful towards her for devastating Chandler and acting so casually about it, insisting that they discuss it, when she should have known perfectly well how he was doing.

Of course, Ross knew what he had told Monica was not the complete truth and most of it had only been said in his frustration towards her. Chandler was far from fine. Miserable was a far more suitable term. While it was true he had gone on a date the previous night, it was only because Rachel and Joey had practically forced him on it, hoping to snap him out of his terrible mood and begin the moving on process. It had after all been more than a month since he had broken up with Monica, and he’d hardly ventured out of his sweat pants, other than to go to work, and very occasionally when the others forced him to come to Central Perk with them. Ross wasn’t exactly happy that Chandler was ‘moving on’ past his sister, but reflected that Monica had been the one to make the changes. It was her fault, not Chandler’s. She could blame no one but herself.

“He – he’s moved on?” Monica breathed into the phone, close to tears, “I can’t believe it. I’ve been gone three weeks and he’s moved on. God, he hates me that much?” she wondered, her silent tears finally spilling over. “Only three weeks!” she managed to squeak out, upset.

“Monica, it’s not like tha-” Ross tried to comfort her, feeling slightly guilty for his exaggeration of Chandler’s mood and the situation, but it was too late, Monica had already hung up, tears rolling down her cheeks.

Monica looked sadly at her office phone, desperately wanting to call Chandler, if for no other reason than to say she was sorry. Just to simply talk to him and hear his soft voice on the line. She had always loved his voice on the phone. It seemed to have a softer quality to it than his regular speaking voice. It was both sweet and sexy at the same time. Monica nearly smiled at the thought; Chandler would have laughed to hear her call anything about him sexy. He never had accepted that particular complement well.

Monica sighed, thinking about him was only serving to make her more miserable. She would give anything to hear his voice on the line, again, even if it was just to reassure her than he didn’t hate her.

Monica looked away from the phone swiftly, she had no intention of breaking her unspoken promise to never call him. She knew the ten digits to reach him by heart. For a long time they had been hers, too. Long before they’d lived together, even.

Forcing her thoughts away, she reminded herself he was no longer a part of her life. She still loved him; there was no doubt about that, in her mind at least. She knew Chandler and the others probably had their doubts, but why wouldn’t they? She hadn’t exactly been doing the best job at proving it. They had been separated a little over two months and Monica’s feelings for him had not changed at all since the last time she had seen him. Their subsequent fight and the months they had been separated had done nothing to change her mind.

Often she regarded him as her boyfriend without thinking. It seemed to come to her so naturally. She constantly wondered if he still loved her. Sure, Ross had said he’d gone on dates, but that meant nothing. He couldn’t have fallen in love so quickly, right? Even though he was hundreds of miles away the thought that he possibly still loved her, brought Monica a warm comfort. She had tried to forget, but it was inevitable. He had left an everlasting imprint on her heart.

She wasn’t exactly looking forward to returning to her apartment that night. No matter how much she disliked her job, she disliked going to bed more. Sleeping alone between the cold sheets, with no one there to wrap his arms around her and kiss her good night, it seemed to be only another reminder of how much she missed Chandler. The only thing she despised more than going to bed alone, was waking up alone. It only reminded her that she would have to go through another day alone. ‘You don’t have to be without him, you know,’ her ever-logical internal voice reminded her, ‘He might take you back. You should try, then you would know you tried your best, but there was nothing else you could do.’

Monica snapped out of her reverie, once again concentrating half-heartedly on the dull glow of her computer screen. The words seemed distant and useless. But so was dwelling on the past, what good was it to think about those things, especially now that all her friends and former boyfriend hated her?

In the darkened room she could just make out the symbols embossed on keys of the keyboard, by means of the light provided by the monitor. Frustrated with herself and her job, Monica threw her head in her hands and cried out in frustration as loudly as she could. Monica knew no one would hear, as she was the only individual left in the building at such a late hour. Even the janitorial staff had left by now. Only the night security guard would remain in the building, numerous floors below, in the lobby.

For a few minutes Monica calmed herself down by rolling in her office chair and squeezing the stress ball one of her more friendly co-workers had given her. After deciding she had calmed down enough to leave, she exited the multiple open documents on the computer, not bothering to save them and flicked the computer off. She snatched her purse and coat from their resting place in the small office closet.

She was sick of this pathetic excuse for a job. She was fed up with this city. And most of all she was tired of missing Chandler so much it brought her physical pain. She swore she would resolve this once and for all.

She was going to New York.

Monica burst out of the office building, feeling the humid summer air of the sticky Boston night surround her. She jogged to the Porsche her father had given her as a moving gift to help her out with her fresh start in Boston. She wanted – needed - to reach Chandler as soon as humanly possible. She was tired of not knowing. She desperately needed to know. Desperately needed to see him. To touch him, and feel his arms around her and kiss him.

She only prayed they would get that far.

Whatever the case was, she was going to find out. Tonight. Even if it was the last thing she did. She glanced desolately at the building she had just exited. She would never return here. Even if Chandler rejected her, she would find somewhere else to be miserable. She drove away, fully intending never to come back. Wherever she was in the morning, she’d call in and quit.

It was over.

xx

Six hours later Monica drummed her fingers nervously on the steering wheel. She was quickly nearing New York. With each passing minute Monica was becoming more nervous. Suddenly she began doubting everything she was about to do. What if he had a girlfriend now? Maybe those dates Ross had mentioned had led to something? What if he hated her enough that he refused to talk to her? What if he wasn’t home? Millions of ‘what ifs’ poured through her mind at an impossible rate, but she continued driving, her previous words to herself echoing in her head, ‘He might take you back. You have to try, then you would know you tried your best, but there was nothing you could do…’ You have to try.

Keeping her own advice in mind, Monica drove, fighting the overwhelming urge to close her eyes and sleep, and dream of nothing but times when she and Chandler were happy. As she continued to drive, daydreams took over. The realism of them sent her spinning; she could almost taste his kisses on her lips and feel his arms embracing her.

Each second that ticked by felt like an hour. Sometime just after four in the morning, Monica pulled up in front of a familiar building.

Monica sat in her car, taking deep calming breaths, preparing herself to face the man she loved and the possibility of rejection. ‘A very likely possibility,’ she reminded herself, ‘There’s no guarantee he still loves you. You can only hope with all your heart, however black he may think it is, that he loves you enough to forgive you for being such an idiot.’

Once she felt confident enough and she wasn’t literally feeling sick when she thought of approaching Chandler and facing rejection, Monica lifted herself out of the driver’s seat and approached the building with nervous caution. She let herself into the lobby punching in the numeric combination to unlock the lobby door and quickly ascended the stairs to the third floor. She rummaged momentarily in her purse, thankful that she had kept the keys to her former apartment.

Using her key, she let herself into the apartment as noiselessly as she could, slowly taking in the sight around her. With the bright moonlight pouring through the large bay window she could see the otherwise dark apartment quite clearly. Everything had changed.

The apartment was now a shadow of what it had been. Monica grudgingly had to admit she liked it. When they had lived together, she had never given Chandler’s taste in décor a second thought. But she had to admit the apartment looked nice. The furniture was crisp, a lot of it new, and quite tasteful. She guessed his friends had helped him pick out a lot of the new furniture. They probably all had a fun day out shopping, she thought bitterly, figuring out how they could best erase her memory from their lives. She sighed. No point in thinking so pessimistically… yet.

Recalling her original reason for being in the apartment, Monica crept towards Chandler’s bedroom. Taking care to remain silent, she gradually slid the door open, mentally preparing herself for the worst case scenario of Chandler cuddled in the bed with another woman. When the door was open enough for her to enter, she took a deep breath, to steady her nerves before peering inside. She was infinitely thankful to find that Chandler was fast asleep, alone.

He was lying on his side facing away from her, snoring lightly in that cute way that made her smile. Monica grinned fully, as his sleeping habits rushed back into her memory. Chandler had always snored, although not in a loud, annoying way. His snoring was soft and gentle, something that had always helped lull her to sleep. It was something that had reinforced his presence and reassured Monica he’d always be there for her when she truly needed him.

Monica walked to the other side of his bed, so she could see his face as he slept. He looked adorable, Monica noted. She’d always thought he looked his best when he was sleeping. His face was always relaxed and free of worry, and he had a habit of smiling in his sleep, which Monica found endearing. His sandy-brown hair was tousled and his gorgeous blue eyes closed lightly in a deep sleep. She badly wanted to see his eyes. She almost woke him, simply so she could stare into his eyes, like she had many times before, but she stopped herself, wanting to savour this moment a little longer… before possibly sentencing herself to rejection. The blankets were twisted around his body carelessly. He was smiling contentedly into his pillow, probably dreaming of something happy. For a fleeting moment, Monica allowed herself to believe he was dreaming of her.

Maybe he really was?

The thought sent butterflies fluttering merrily through her insides.

Monica lovingly sat down on the edge of the bed, careful not to wake him from his slumber. She watched him sleep in silence for a few minutes before realizing how cliché she’d become. Sitting up half the night... watching the man she loved sleep.

Great. She’d become the heroine from a soppy, sweet, made-for-TV-movie-special of the week. Still, she was unable to disturb the serenity of the moment and shifted closer to him, moving carefully, so she wouldn’t rouse him. She wasn’t ready to face him just yet. She needed a few more minutes of lying in his presence and soaking up the warmth she felt when she was around him. Watching him while he knew nothing of her existence in his bedroom would be much different than staring into his beautiful blue eyes, which she knew would silently demand answers she was not ready to provide just yet.

Monica bit her lip and slowly, unable to help herself, inched closer to Chandler, until she was close enough to touch his face with only the barest of movements. She lay down next to him so their bodies were parallel. Shyly reaching out, but still terrified of waking him, but knowing she had to keep her promise to herself, she stroked his soft hair, watching his face for signs of movement as she did so. Leisurely, his sleep-blurred eyes fluttered opened, before quickly shutting again. In his sleep he murmured incoherently, unintentionally rolling nearer to Monica’s touch. “MmmmMon…” he mumbled into his pillow, his thoughts automatically shifting to her. Even though he was still half-asleep and didn’t realize what he was saying, those words were the only thing she needed to hear at that moment. She quickly shoved the massive grin that had exploded across her face away.

She moved more fully onto the bed, and began caressing Chandler’s hair and his cheek. Before long, he became more conscious and registered what was happening around him. “Mon… Monica?” he wondered in awe, staring at Monica desperately, clearly wondering if he was dreaming. Monica simply nodded in response. In one fluid movement he sat up and pulled her into a tight embrace; a far better reaction than she had dared hope for.

“Monica!” He pulled her tighter to his chest, burying his face in her neck, whispering, as if afraid a louder voice would ruin the illusion, “God, I’ve missed you so much.”

Monica quickly nodded, snuggling deeper into his embrace, not satisfied with the simple hug he was offering her. Feeling brave, she wrapped her hands in his hair, around his head, pulling his lips closer to her. Their lips touched gently in a tender kiss. When Chandler didn’t object, and merely returned the kiss eagerly, Monica allowed herself to become lost; her relief and gratitude surfacing in her passionate embrace. Five minutes later the two were still entwined and kissing hungrily, hardly stopping to breathe.

In a soft voice, barely audible to Chandler, Monica whispered the first words she’d spoken to him that night, voicing her overwhelming need for more, to feel closer still, “Chandler, sweetie. Please, I want – I need you. I’ve missed you so, so much. I was stupid. Please, I need to feel you. Make love to me, please,” she pleaded, knowing that the Chandler she loved would understand her intentions, as irrational as the words were sounding now that they had been spoken aloud. He nodded and smiled in response and pulled her closer still, drawing her back into his kiss, not daring to let her go, for fear she would disappear. He wanted nothing more.

xx

As the sun was rising later that morning, Chandler and Monica remained cuddled in bed. They had spent the last few hours alternating between talking lightly and making love. As much as they both knew there was a lot that still needed to be worked out between them, they had avoided those issues, just wanting to revel in being close to one another again.

Chandler was the first to break the oddly comfortable silence that had formed, as Monica lay contentedly in his arms. The warm weight of her head resting on his bare shoulder was insanely comforting.

“I knew you’d be back,” he whispered into her hair, kissing it, as he tentatively broached the subject they had been avoiding all night.

Monica could feel tears flowing freely down her cheeks and dripping onto his chest. She squeezed Chandler tighter, not even allowing him to move enough to look at her.

“What’s wrong, Mon? You’re crying,” he observed, concerned, upon feeling the wetness of her tears against his skin. The only reply he received was her muffled sniffle, so he continued, worriedly, “Shouldn’t this be a happy moment? You are staying aren’t you?” He felt a panic shoot through him at the possibility she wouldn’t. The notion of her leaving again after she had only just come back to him was unfathomable.

Monica spoke nervously, still irrationally terrified Chandler might tell her to leave, despite the sentiment he had expressed which told her the exact opposite. “I missed you so much, Chandler. I love you so much,” she declared. “I was so stupid. I can’t live without you. I – I – just can’t. I can’t do it. I need you. I guess, I’m crying because I’m just – just happy to be here. Relieved you let me back into your life,” she explained, “I want to stay here with you, but what I - I need to know is will you let me? If you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I’ll do anything, absolutely anything to make you love me again. If you already have a girlfriend,” her throat tightened as she spoke the word, “I’ll understa-“ Chandler put his fingers to her lips, stopping her from speaking any further.

“Shhh, honey. I do not have a girlfriend. How could I? I love you. Joey and Rach forced me on a couple dates, because I was miserable over you, and they thought someone new might help me move on. But Mon, no one could ever compare to you because you are the love of my life.”

“Does that mean…?” She enquired, allowing a tiny sliver of anxious excitement to creep into her voice.

Chandler slowly answered, “Honey, I’ve been waiting for you to come back since the moment you left. I’ve been walking around like a zombie since you left. Ask any of our friends! I’m beyond just miserable without you. I’m not planning on letting you walk away from us, ever again. As long as I have a say in the matter, I want us together. Trust me, as long as you’re willing to stay, I’m always going to want you to. I never stopped loving you. Never. Not even for one second. I know we have some issues to work out, and we will, eventually, because there is nothing we can’t get through together as long as we love one another. I don’t want to talk about those things right now, though. I just want to lay here in bed and be with you.” He kissed her adoringly to illustrate his words.

Monica smiled through her tears, “Good, ‘cause I drove all night to get to you.”

The end