Epilogue

Winter eventually eases into spring and the transition is somehow as unsettling as it is welcome. It is like Chandler has been stuck for so long, everything new will serve to disorient him, throw him off. With the days slowly becoming longer, it feels like the sunlight gives him a new perspective of himself and it is not altogether a bad thing. Disconcerting, yes, but not bad.

It takes him three attempts to find a shrink that he doesn't want to throttle. He very nearly gives up (because seriously, what's the point?), and he probably would have if Monica hadn't literally hit him over the head with a magazine when he had tried to deflect.

He knows, logically, that maybe it isn't the shrink that is the problem. Maybe it is him and his own reluctance, and he eventually forces himself to settle for a calm, middle-aged woman who keeps her office clean to an almost Monica-approved standard. She doesn't try to talk him into envisioning his problems as leaves that will blow away in the wind, which definitely works in her favor.

She runs a private practice and has good recommendations. Unfortunately this also means that visiting her twice a week is creating quite a hole in Chandler's pocket. At least she is up front about it; if he would consider reporting his rape to the police it might be possible for him to get to a state-financed therapy plan at a hospital.

Chandler is not exactly sure which part of that statement he finds the least unsettling. It is a big no either way. He can barely talk to his therapist about this: reporting it to the police would be impossible. The mere thought of looking a policeman in the eye while saying it makes his stomach churn.

It is still incredibly difficult to talk about it. Chandler has been deflecting with humor and sarcasm his entire life so forcing himself to open up is only slightly easier than pulling out teeth with no anesthesia. Most of the time he doesn't even know what to say, and his therapist's silence as she waits for him to explain a statement or to simply tell her more can be extremely infuriating.

Whenever he tries to switch to sarcasm she tells him that his personal method of repressing everything, almost to the point of denial, doesn't seem to be working out that well for him.

She may have a point.

The one cliched metaphor she gives him is a knot. It is like he has worked himself into one, with his emotions running in a disarray of directions. Repression, anger, anxiety, depression. It keeps getting tighter and tighter and unless he has the patience to carefully work himself out of it he may have to walk around with a permanent bump on his lifeline.

That doesn't mean it doesn't hurt to do it, however.

He has never been too good at dealing with pain. He goes through different stages of irritation and may or may not be a pain to be around sometimes. It is often followed by exhaustion, and on his therapist's recommendation he begins to take sleeping pills.

To his surprise they actually kind of work, in more ways than one. For one thing he actually sleeps at night. For another, somewhat proper rest does make him feel more balanced. It means he will feel groggy in the mornings, which in turn means that he may have called in sick to work a bit more than he ought to, but in the end it feels okay. He is offered anti-anxiety pills as well, but decides against it. For the time being.

His friends' lives continue in the periphery of Chandler's own. The knowledge that something is going on with him eventually spreads through the entire group until it is more or less an open secret. In the beginning it bothers him because he hates the idea of what they might think of him or that they even think about him at all. After a while he starts to relax into it. They don't ask any questions (though he is sure they want to) and it gives him a certain leeway. It doesn't make anything feel better, per se, but it least it doesn't make things worse.

He gets his STD test results back and they are all negative. What had started as mostly a formality turned out to be more a relief than he had expected. He is scheduled for a new test in a couple of months and hopefully that will turn okay as well.

Some days are better than other. Some mornings don't rob him of all energy. He hangs out more and more at Central Perk again, and is startled to realize that both Phoebe and Monica are dating new guys that he has never met before, and that Ross is still hung up on Rachel. A couple of days later Phoebe dumps her guy and once she leaves the cafe they all offer their theories regarding the reason.

It takes Chandler a moment to realize that there is something weird going on. It nags at his consciousness, his mind processing it until he can finally identify it.

He feels normal.

Of course, once the thought enters his mind he finds himself unable to avoid the return of the heavy feeling that usually occupies his chest, but the memory of the feeling lingers.

Huh.

Since Chandler has made an effort to update himself on the doings of his friends nowadays; he knows for a fact that Rachel and Phoebe went to catch a movie and that Monica had headed out on a date earlier this evening. Thus he is not at all surprised to find the apartment dark when he uses the extra key for the purpose of borrowing, well, stealing some milk for his glamorous Saturday evening cereal.

"Hey."

He yelps, jumping back and hitting his elbow against the doorknob just there. The whine he lets out from the pain is even more embarrassing than the yelp. "What are you doing here?"

Monica straightens from where she had been sitting, hunched over the kitchen table, grimacing oddly.

"I live here. What are you doing here?"

"Well, uh." The pain in his elbow slowly subsides, allowing Chandler to take in Monica's somewhat red-rimmed eyes. He has only seen that look on her face a couple times before and he doesn't like it, nor the feeling of helplessness that rises in him. "Just borrowing something. You okay?"

She brushes her hair out of her face, half-shrugging. "Just... date stuff."

His hunger forgotten, pulls out one of the kitchen chairs and sits down, facing her. "I guess it didn't go very well?"

"Well, no," Monica says, almost casually, giving it a moment before she bursts. "We're not going to see each other anymore." She gestures violently with one hand in a way that would have made her look angry if she hadn't also looked so miserable. "I really liked him, and he broke up with me."

Chandler is generally not too fond of the guys Monica chooses to date because he knows that she could do so much better. Why does she bother with the people with no sense of humor whatsoever, the compulsive liars or the ones with the horrible haircuts? He hasn't met this newest guy, however, so he can't solve this by pointing out his bad qualities the way he would usually do.

"Guys suck," he says instead, patting her hand in a way that feels feeble, but still better than doing nothing. "I should know, I am one."

That makes her smile faintly. "You don't suck, sweetie."

For some reason Chandler feels his cheeks heat up. He clears his throat, realizing that he is still patting Monica's hand, and pulls away. "Uh, ice-cream time?"

Monica ignores his awkwardness, or at least seems amused by it. "No, I need a beer."

"Ah, a woman after my own heart." Alcohol doesn't go too well with his sleeping pills, but he could probably ignore that just this one time.

Monica's smile widens, looking more genuine than it has since Chandler had walked through the door.

"Hey," she says. "Thanks."

Her smile warms him, even as he is struck by the oddness of being the one comforting her for a change. It has been the other way around for some time now and there is a horrible little part of him that kind of likes it. It feels good to be the strong one for a change. He guiltily shoots the thought down.

Of course, when Chandler starts thinking, the anxiety enters his chest like an old, familiar enemy. He shrugs it off the best he can, almost more annoyed than anything. It does, however, remind him of something that he had been planning on doing.

"No," he says before he can change his mind. "Thank you." He pauses, clearing his throat that suddenly feels dry. Monica looks at him quizzically. "For being around, I mean. After I was... well."

He had planned to say the word this time, he really had. He still hasn't been able to say it aloud, not even in therapy. He can barely stand hearing other people say it.

Monica, to her credit, doesn't look uncomfortable with his sudden softness. Her smile, though looking almost unsteady, is all genuine and soft. "You look like you're feeling better," she says.

"Maybe," Chandler says.

He kind of believes it.

The End

A/N: So, that's it. A big thank you to everyone that has stuck with this story! It has been quite a ride to write and pretty emotional at times. I'm sorry to those I disappointed by not going full-out Mondler, and thank you to the Guest reviewer who voiced exactly why I chose not to.

Please, please consider taking a few seconds of your time to tell me what you though of the story? I know from the read count/followers that a lot of you have been following the story without as much as a peep, so. ;) But, either way, thank you for making it all the way to the end!