Dying

Chandler was in a NYC Taxi Cab. His fingers were drumming impatiently on his knees, couldn't the cab move any faster? His feet were twitching nervously and he was blinking very fast. All sorts of awfull possibilities were running through his head.

When the cab pulled up outside the hospital ten minutes later, Chandler thrust the money into the drivers utstretched palm, not caring that it was way too much. The cabbie grinned his thanks , then pulled away from the kerb.

Chandler rushed through the double doors into the emergancy room. He sprinted towards the reception.

"Where is she? Where's Monica Bing?" he demanded.

"Are you a relative?" the blonde bimbo type receptionist asked hiim.

"Yeah, I'm her husband. I need to see her. I just got a call from here telling me she had been in an accident. They wouldn't tell me anything else on the phone, they just said come down here, so I came as quickly as I could. Oh God, is she okay? Tell me she's okay, please. She has to be okay. I need her," Chandler babbled.

"Okay, calm down. Her name's Monica Bing, right?" the receptionist asked calmly. Chandler was so not calm he was only a minute or two away from jumping up and down with nerves.

"Yes, can I see her? I need to know she's alright."

"Okay, I'll get a nurse to come and speak to you, just sit down," she commanded in an irritatingly bright voice.

"Please, just tell me she's gonna be okay," Chandler begged, on the verge of tears.

"I'll get a nurse," was all she would say.

True to her word, the receptionist found one of the nurses who was treating Monica, and she lead Chandler to a small, private room, with pale soothing colors that didn't sooth him at all.

Five minutes later, Chandler was numb. His whole world was falling apart.

He wanted to cry, but found he couldn't find the tears.

"Oh my God," was all he could say, stuttering and very quiet.

"I'm sorry," the nurse said. She laid a comforting hand on his arm, but he shook it off. He didn’t want her to touch him. The only person who's comfort he wanted was dead.

"I can't believe it. I just can't believe I won't ever hold her in my arms again," he said in a stunned voice.

"You can see her if you want," the nurse offered. Chandler gave no sign of hearing her.

"How am I going to tell the kids? Just tell me that! How do I tell me five year old son and my three year old daughter that their Mommy's dead and she's never coming back? How do I do that?" Chandler demanded.

"I'm sorry Mr Bing. If you want, I can tell your children for you," she said sympatheticly, and looking at him with pity in her eyes.

"No. If someone has to tell them, I want it to be me."

"Okay. Would you like me to call someone for you?"

"Uh, yeah, her brother, um, Ross Geller. He'll call her parents and our friends," Chandler said, the shock of losing her making him forget everything, even the name of one of his best friends.

"Okay. I'll take you to see her while I ring Mr Geller."

"Thanks," Chandler said, slightly regaining his self control.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Chandler stood in the doorway of the room where Monica had died. The nurse smiled kindly and left him alone. Slowly, Chandler walked across the bare room to Monica's bedside.

"Oh God Mon," he whispered. He sank to his knees and laid his head on the bed next to her. "Why is this happening? This isn't fair Mon. I don’t think I can survive without you. I don’t want to even try. I miss you so much already. How the hell am I going to live the rest of my life knowing I will never hold you, or talk to you, or kiss you ever again. I don't wanna live like that. I love you," he said. He was crying as he held her hand. "I love you so much. Oh God Mon, I can't say goodbye to you. I just can't. I'm sorry Monica. I'm sorry I wasn’t there to protect you. I'm sorry you had to die, especially like this, alone amoung strangers and in pain," Chandler burried his face in her long, dark hair, not caring that it was thick and matted with blood from the accident. He pulled her close to him and hugged her. He wanted to pretend everything was alright, but there was nothing like the Monica he had once loved unconditionally in the woman in his arms now. The Monica he loved was alive and happy. This woman was dead and hurt.

"I love you Mon. I wish to God I didn't have to lose you like this. I will never stop thinking about you, and missing you, and loving you," he said. He choked with emotion as he said his final word to her: "Goodbye."