Fever

 By Daphne

 

Her breathing was light and hurried, and her head tossed from one side to the other to get comfortable. Chandler put one hand on her forehead and his touch calmed her for a few moments. But then the fire within her pushed him off and she threw her arms out pushing the covers off her.

Monica mumbled and Chandler put his ear to her. "Sorry Mon, what did you say?"

"The fire is getting nearer. The lobster will be overcooked." She repeated.

Chandler smiled through his concern. " I thought that was what you said." He muttered to himself and then in reassuring tones. "It's OK sweetie relax, you're not at work, you're at home in bed."

"No bed." She murmured. "The lobster will escape."

"Don't worry sweetie. I'll catch it if it does." He said to reassure her.

"But the fire. It's too hot." Monica threw her legs over the cover. Her nightdress stuck to her with sweat. Nothing was comfortable, the worries flew around her head in circles, round and round again, never letting her relax. Why was it so hot? She shivered. The door was open now, the snow was everywhere, the ice crept up her legs. She and Chandler would be frozen in their beds.

"Cold, so cold." She murmured.

Chandler pulled the covers back over her. She was shivering, so he pulled her damp body to him in a hug until the fire was re-lit in her and she pushed him off and threw herself back down on the bed.

"The lobster!" She cried out so loud that Chandler jumped.

"I caught it Mon. It won't escape now."

Monica tossed and lay on her tummy, pulling her night-dress right up and off in her attempt to cool down. Chandler cursed.

"No sweetie there's a time and a place to seduce me. The place may be good but 104 degree fevers and delirium are not the time."

He tried to pull her night-dress back on but her arms flung everywhere and he gave up and simply used the bed covers to hide her.

Phoebe peered around the door. "No better?"

"No. She's really hot and then freezing cold. Do you think I should call the doctor again?"

Phoebe shook her head, "Call her if she's not settled by morning. The nights are always worse for fevers and the antibiotics should start to work by tomorrow."

"The lobster's overcooked, it's overcooked!" Monica cried out and flung the covers off her naked body.

Chandler shrugged. "She appears to be cooking a reluctant lobster."

"Does she have to be naked? Phoebe asked, shocked.

"She took it off. I tried to put it back on again but I've never dressed a woman before."

Phoebe looked at him with disdain. "It's the same as dressing a man. Only the dangly bits are higher up."

"What makes you think I dressed a guy?"

Phoebe huffed and picked up the nightdress and threaded one arm through the sleeve, which Monica then tossed off across the room. After the fifth attempt Phoebe gave up. "OK she'll have to be naked."

"There's a rocket on the roof." Monica mumbled.

Chandler looked at her surprised. "Does it have the lobster on board?" He asked.

"Don't make fun of her. She can't help it if she's delirious."

"I know. I'm worried about her." Chandler said sadly.

Phoebe looked at him with sympathy and put her arms around him. He rested his head on her shoulder. "She'll be OK. I've had a couple of fevers like this. And after a day or so you wake up drenched in sweat, a few pound lighter and wondering why you couldn't stop worrying about…. Well a lobster in Monica's case. "

"Really?"

"Yeah." She looked at his pale face and red rimmed eyes. He scarcely looked healthy than Monica. "When did you last sleep Chandler?"

"I dunno, night before last I suppose."

"You don't look good. Go get some sleep."

"I can't Pheebs."

Phoebe kissed him on the head. "Try Chandler, try. "

 

"OK, when she's more peaceful, perhaps in the morning."

"Joey offered to get you anything if you need it and I'm happy to sit with her. You know that? Rachel would like to help but the baby…"

"I know Pheebs. I don't want to leave him."

Phoebe looked into his tired, worried face. The more tired he became the less he was able to keep this in perspective.

"She'll be OK Chandler. She'll be OK."

 

Chandler was alone now, only the light from the living room gently illuminating the room through the window above the door. Worry was like a dead weight to him, sounds drifted into the background. Only the delirious woman in the bed was real. His head started to fall onto his chest and he jerked, appalled that he was so near sleep. It happened again, and again and eventually sleep won. After nearly 48 hours without it he was soon deep down where there was no life, only temporary death and not a sound could disturb him.

The room was bright. His eyes looked first for Monica, she was a dark still figure in the bed. There was a strange haze about the room and it was quiet, he felt very alone. He put his hand to his neck, his shirt was too tight, he pulled at it to relieve the pressure. Something was very wrong. He knew that something was very wrong. The room was silent, like after a snowfall. Too quiet. He rushed to the bed.

Monica was still and cold.

"MONICA!" He screamed at her. There was no response. Her skin was glowing white in the light of the door. Her lips were yellow. He pulled her up and shook her.

"MONICA!" He screamed again and shook her harder, trying to shake the life back into her. But her head fell back off her lifeless body.

He dropped her in horror and stepped back. The room was spinning. He couldn't breathe, every breath was hard and painful. His throat was on fire. He fell backwards onto the floor and screamed. He knew they lifted him, then time drifted.

The doors of the furnace were open now, he could feel the flames. He was going in too, after her. He hadn't told anyone, there didn't seem anyone to tell. There was no life without her, only misery and failure. He would go in with her.

Someone threw ice over him. He gasped, he was so cold. They had got it wrong, instead of the furnace they had buried him in the snow and the cold sunk down through the earth. There was no air down there. He was suffocating. He pushed the shroud off him and yelled for someone to get him. He felt the pressure on his head; a smooth warm hand.

"Chandler, it's OK, you're OK."

Phoebe entered, her face grim. "The ambulance is coming. Monica try to stay calm."

"!06 Phoebe. 106, you read the book, 106 degree fever is life threatening." Monica continued to sponge Chandler down with tepid water as she spoke, never taking her eyes off him.

"Ross told me to tell you that you shouldn't be out of bed yet."

Monica frowned. "Screw Ross. He's dying Phoebe, he nursed me and now he's dying. It's my fault."

"He'll be OK. You heard the doctor, sometimes the fever gets really high just before it breaks. You got through it. He will too. Let me take over Monica. You're still not up to this."

Chandler murmured and tossed the covers off him again.

Phoebe tried not to look. "Could you promise me something Mon? If I catch this you'll put me in an all in one pant suit that I can't get off? There seems to be something about this fever that makes you want to sleep naked."

"I want Monica!" Chandler shouted and then more softly in a sad voice. "I want Monica back."

"I'm here sweetie." She shook her head, as it was clear he didn't register what she had just said. "He's not making any sense."

"He's making a lot more sense than you were with that lobster you were chasing."

"Lobster's expensive!" Monica said, even feeling the need to defend herself in delirium.

"How's your throat?" Phoebe asked her.

Monica's hand went to her neck. "It still feels like I have a noose around it."

"I can't live without Monica. Let me burn too." A sad Chandler said from the bed and his eyes started to stream with tears and his sobs racked through the room.

Monica and Phoebe both welled up too, realizing suddenly what his nightmare was.

Monica took him in her arms. "Try to hear me Chandler. I'm here. I didn't die. I'm here."

The fire and ice moved away for a moment and a chink into the real world found its way into Chandler's brain. His eyes opened and he looked up at her holding him. He licked his lips, his voice no longer seemed to belong to him. His throat protested at the attempted use. He tried again. "Monica?" He said in a whisper. "Are we in heaven? It feels too hot to be heaven."

Monica shook her head smiling. "No sweetie. Look, Phoebe's here."

Chandler's dry mouth cracked into a slow hesitant smile. "Well I can't be in heaven then. Not if Phoebe's here." He said and drifted into a peaceful sleep in the arms of his wife.

 

The girls both grinned and Phoebe grabbed the thermometer. A minute later she shouted, "102 Monica, he's dropped to 102."

"Do we cancel the ambulance?"

"Hell no. Ambulance guys are usually pretty cute."

 

I don't suppose that would make any sense to you unless you've had a very high temperature and got stuck in a circular dream.