Title: 'A Little Miffed'
Fandom: Friends
Author: but_can_i_be_trusted
Rating: G
Challenge: #51: Guy Clark Song Titles ('The High Price of Inspiration')
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Notes: Crossposted to whatif_au

Summary: Evidently, that was the wrong question to ask.


His heart in his throat, Chandler looked at the map that he'd been sent. There had been no return address when the envelope arrived. The envelope itself, along with the map that it contained, was charred in some places; and, seemingly drenching the map prior to sending, there'd been the troubling scent of odd chemicals that he'd been unable to identify.

Along with the map, Chandler had found a scribbled and unsigned note. He glanced over it again now, squinting at the handwriting by the fitful light of a flickering street lamp.

Mister Bing,

I understand that you're trying to gain a reputation as a skilled reporter. So far, though, it seems that you're stuck writing up little-league baseball scores, and little old ladies' recipes for the back page.

If you're interested in a good scoop for your local paper, one that could make you a success in your field, then you should call this evening at the following address:

At the moment, the address in question was almost impossible to make out.

"If only I'd brought a flashlight," he mumbled softly. Then: "If only I'd stayed home."

"Excuse me? Are you lost?"

Suppressing a startled cry, Chandler regarded the speaker. An attractive blonde woman stood close by.

"This isn't the best part of town to get lost in," she warned him.

"Well, I'd rather be literally anywhere else right now," he agreed.

"Then what brings you out here tonight?"

He handed her the note. "This should sum things up."

"Uh, huh." Scanning it, the woman nodded. "Interesting. And you didn't think it was just some crank causing trouble? Let's face it; it's probably not every day that you get mail asking you over to an abandoned laboratory at night."

"A laboratory," Chandler echoed. "That's what this place is, that I'm supposed to find? This is just getting weirder and weirder. Well, crank or not, I have an appointment to go there." He tried to offer a casual shrug, though the chill that was running up his spine made the task a difficult one. "I'm sure it's all some lame attempt at a practical joke, and that nobody'll even be there."

She nodded again. "Yeah, I'm sure. You're probably being laughed at by a few drunken losers at some bar somewhere."

He mentally crossed his fingers. That possibility was certainly the best he had to hope for, the way things were shaping up. A few liquored-up bozos mocking him far beyond his earshot was better than anything he could, and didn't care to, imagine.

"Okay, so...how do I find the laboratory," he asked the blonde. "The map led me this far, but I can't really figure out where to go from here."

"Just follow the sound of maniacal laughter, punctuated by the occasional tortured scream," she told him in a matter-of-fact manner that did nothing to ease his nerves. She grinned. "Sorry; I couldn't resist. It's two blocks that way," she added, pointing. "Oh! Uhm...am I going to be mentioned in this article that's supposed to make your career?"

Chandler gazed at her, sizing her up. Was she after her privacy, or was she out to earn herself a little attention? A thought struck him at that moment: For all he knew, this woman could be the one who'd sent him the note and the map.

"Only if you want me to," he replied. "If you wanted to be anonymous, that's fine. Or I could leave you out. Again, it's all up to you."

Now, she shook her head, backing away a few steps. "That's okay. I'd just as soon be left out of the whole thing. I was just going to say, if you did plan to mention me, that you got this from Regina Phalange."

"Okay, then." He opted to consider that an alias, rather than the woman's name. "Consider yourself out of it."

"Thanks."

"Thank you for helping me with the directions. I'd better see this thing through."

"I hear the lab's haunted," she called to Chandler as he turned away.

Great. Like that wasn't a delightfully scary detail to throw into the mix.

To Chandler's disappointment, the lab seemed not to be quite so abandoned. A well-kept courtyard stretched from the street to an elegant porch, a rich mahogany door, and a perfectly ordinary doorbell. All in all, the presentation seemed more comfortable home than haunted laboratory.

Though his common sense begged him not to, Chandler rang the bell.

Less than a minute later, the door opened. A tall man stood on the other side, looking a bit hopeful.

"Hi. Can I help you," he asked.

"Maybe." Chandler held up the envelope. "I got this message in today's mail, and I was wondering...what the hell is going on here, anyway? Could this night be any more confusing? I was told that this was a haunted lab...by...people."

At the sight of the envelope, the man's eyes widened excitedly. "Oh! You must be Mister Bing! Come in," he invited, shaking Chandler's hand and guiding him inside. "I'm Doctor Geller. Call me Ross. Sorry about the condition of the note and the map; I spilled my coffee all over it, and then I got a little too close to the Bunsen burner. I have no idea who told you that, by the way; about the lab being haunted, I mean. The lab part's true, but that's as far as it goes. I don't know about you; but, speaking as a man of science, I don't put much stock in ghost stories."

Chandler found himself grinning, despite his befuddlement. "Speaking as a wannabe reporter, I have to keep pretty skeptical, myself. So, Ross. This really is a laboratory, then?"

Ross jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "The lab's out in the back. I'll show it to you later."

"So, are you a mad scientist," Chandler quipped.

Evidently, that was the wrong question to ask. Ross' brow furrowed. Clearly, he'd been asked such things frequently.

"No, I'm not! I resent that! I am not a mad scientist," he declared, as he poured them each a cup of coffee.

"Okay, okay," Chandler responded as he accepted the coffee, his other hand raised placatingly. "That was out of line. I'm sorry."

Appearing somewhat mollified, Ross took a hearty swig of the beverage. "Apology accepted. I'm simply a little miffed. I guess that's the price I pay for inspiration, though: That people with less understanding of basic scientific principles say hurtful things. I'm used to it, but that doesn't mean I enjoy it."

"That's fair. Can't say I blame you for getting pissed off about it. If you don't mind me changing the subject, where do I fit into this? What's this scoop of yours?"

Sheepishly, Ross smiled, letting out a tiny chuckle.

"Well, uh...it's not as big of a deal as I made it sound," he confessed. "I just hoped that you might be interested in the two of us collaborating on a series of articles about science, to try to drum up interest in the various disciplines. My primary area of study is paleontology, but I'm also interested in anthropology, and astronomy, to a minor degree. Do you think your paper would be willing to run that kind of series?"

Chandler scratched his head. "I don't know. I'd be happy to run it by the editor, and see if she's willing to give it a try."

"Who is your editor? I don't usually pay much attention to that sort of thing; too busy reading up on the latest discoveries."

"Her name's Monica. Monica, uh..." He snapped his fingers. "Geller, actually. I don't suppose you two are related?"

"Ohhh, crap," Ross groaned, cringing. "That's my kid sister. Let's forget the whole thing," he sighed, waving vaguely. "She'd never go for it, in a million years."