Well, here I go. Multiple fics going at the same time… Bear with me!
A little explanation: I decided to name one of the children Emily…simply because I really like that name and it actually goes (kinda) with Bing! So, for the sake of my whims, just try to forget Ross ever married Emily and Rachel never had Emma. Or if you want an Emma (I don't mind), name her something else, because we can't have cousins named Emma and Emily. Well, we CAN, but I won't. ;-) Can you imagine what Judy would have to say about Monica naming a child "Emily" if Ross and Rachel already had "Emma"? Hmmm….
Warning: Melodrama will ensue. Apparently, I'm a dramatic writer…but one day – ONE DAY! – I will write a comedy. Well, a dramatic comedy at least.
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, and I apologize to their creators for all the trauma I inflict on them.
It was the subconscious knowledge that he was alone in the bed that woke him from his restless sleep. He didn't even have to reach for her to know that she wasn't there, and the thought was quickly replaced with the knowledge that he knew exactly where she was…and what had pulled her from the bed so early on a Thursday morning. He opened his eyes and stared into the darkness that still shrouded the room, feeling his heart begin to thump painfully in his chest as the lump in his throat threatened to choke him.
Three years.
He slipped out of their bed, and opened the door to their bedroom quietly, gazing at her across the living room. He knew she would be there – standing alone on the balcony, staring out at the city…her robe tied tightly at the waist, and her arms wrapped around herself as if she could ward off the cold.
But he knew she wasn't feeling the early-morning chill in the air. She wouldn't feel anything today except her own heartache. And maybe some of his.
He stepped out onto the balcony, watching her silently. She didn't turn her head, but he knew she knew he was there. His eyes followed her gaze over the city they knew so well, knowing exactly what she was thinking. He thought it too, every moment of every day. He was always looking…hoping…praying…even in his dreams.
He walked up behind her and slipped his arms around her, holding her close and offering the only comfort he could. He felt her relax – just slightly – as she leaned back against him, letting him be her strength as he always had been. He kissed the curve of her neck and rested his chin on her shoulder, tightening his arms around her as she reached for his hands and intertwined her fingers with his. Still, neither of them spoke. They watched the dark sky slowly lighten behind the buildings, though they wouldn't be able to see the sun until it was high in the sky and New York was completely lit by its light. Without warning, she turned in his arms and buried her face against his chest, her whole body shaking as she struggled not to cry. He helplessly lifted one hand to stroke her hair, unable to hold in his own tears when she finally broke down.
Three years, his heart mourned. Three years. And the worst part was, he was finally beginning to lose hope…and he knew Monica was too. Three years was a long time. Too long.
He continued to hold her long after her sobs ceased, both of them feeling the slight comfort that came from knowing that they were going through it together.
"Monica," he finally whispered, the first word spoken between them that morning. But he needed to remind her that in spite of the day, it was getting late, and they couldn't stay out there ignoring the rest of the world much longer. They had responsibilities. Monica reluctantly lifted her head from his chest and nodded slowly before meeting his eyes, struggling to compose herself.
"I know. Emily will be screaming soon."
"I can get her…if you want to go back to bed for a while."
Monica gave him a slight smile, appreciative of the offer but knowing she couldn't hide in their room all day.
"It's okay, Chandler. If you'll get Emily, I'll wake Caleb up and start breakfast. I'd rather stay busy with them than…"
She didn't finish the sentence, but he already knew. He nodded and leaned forward to kiss her forehead.
"It'll be okay, Mon. We'll get through it together. I promise."
Monica nodded her head against his lips, closing her eyes as more tears threatened to fall.
"I know." The words remained unspoken, but they both knew what she was thinking. We don't have a choice.
"I love you," he whispered softly, not sure that the words could bring any solace but knowing it was the only thing he had to offer her.
"I know you do," Monica sighed, then hugged him even more tightly. "I love you too. So much."
He held her close for one more minute, then they both braced themselves to enter the apartment and start another day with their two children.
And as they did every day, they would both fight with the knowledge that there should have been three.
Detective Jonathan Bradley stared blankly at the form on his desk, unable to force himself to concentrate. He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his forehead, looking toward the door when he noticed that the noise level outside rose suddenly, and an excited vibe filled the air. The next thing he heard was the voice of his best friend, and he grinned. Greg Morgan seemed to cause a commotion everywhere he went. He pushed the file in front of him aside - it could wait. Greg would come bursting through the door any minute, and Jonathan was ready for any excitement he had to offer.
The door swung open without even a perfunctory knock, and Greg strode in, looking even more excited than usual.
"Jon, you're not going to believe this."
"Nice to see you, Greg. Why don't you have a seat? Coffee?"
Greg ignored his friend's sarcastic greeting and leaned against the wall, holding a file in one hand. Jonathan recognized the look on his face and his curiosity peaked. This was big news.
"I got a call a few minutes ago from Jamie," Greg told him off-handedly, and Jonathan slumped noticeably in his chair. Some news.
"Is it unusual for you to talk to your fiancé?" he asked him, his tone terse in spite of his effort to sound natural. Jamie was in Colorado – and Greg would be too in just a few months. He was happy for his friend, but he didn't like to be reminded that Greg would soon be living thousands of miles away. They'd been friends since kindergarten…
"No, but this wasn't a personal call. It was business. She has a new client."
Jonathan forced himself not to roll his eyes. Every social worker gets new clients, on a daily basis. Trust a man in love to think this was extraordinary news.
"…Actually, two of them," Greg continued, moving over to take a seat in the chair in front of Jonathan. "Their parents died in a boating accident or something. So, Jamie's trying to get them into a foster home and all - nothing usual. But then she met the kids."
Jonathan fought the urge to impatiently wave his hand at Greg and prompt him to finish. Instead, he just shrugged, totally confused by the whole story. Why was Greg bothering to tell him this?
Greg paused dramatically, then flashed Jonathan another grin.
"She recognized one of them."
Jonathan squinted his eyes, thoroughly confused. "Huh?"
"And she just e-mailed me some pictures. Take a look at this, Jonny-boy."
Greg slapped the file he was holding onto the desk, and flipped it open. Jonathan gave him a suspicious look, then let his eyes fall to the high-quality printouts in front of him. His mouth dropped open, and he looked back at Greg in shock. The child in the picture was older than he was in the pictures Jonathan had long ago memorized, but the face was one he would never be able to forget.
Connor Bing.
It was a ritual now. Every year on Connor's birthday, they pretended everything was normal – whatever that was – long enough to get Caleb up and off to school on time before spending the day in each other's arms, crying over their lost son. They had never discussed it, but after the first year, they had avoided mentioning Connor in Caleb's presence, telling themselves that they were protecting their eight-year-old son from ghosts that might haunt him forever. Neither of them realized that Caleb understood far more than they thought he did.
This birthday was no exception. After the early morning scene on the balcony, they had both swallowed away their tears and tried to make the morning routine for their children the same as any other morning. But this year, after Caleb had been dropped off at school, they still had Emily, and their self-pity had to be pushed aside so that they could care for their daughter. They both clung to her, feeling some comfort from their baby, but they both knew she couldn't replace the son they had lost. And when Emily had been fed and put down for a nap, their thoughts immediately went back to Connor.
Somewhere, their son was turning five years old, and wherever he was he had no idea it was his birthday. But quietly, mournfully, they celebrated for him.
And now, after three years, they'd celebrated more birthdays without him than they had shared with him.
Monica held Chandler's hand tightly as she sobbed, her face fixed in a sad, nostalgic smile as she studied a picture of two-year-old Connor that had been taken only two weeks before he was kidnapped.
"Do you think he looks as much like you now as Caleb does?" she asked Chandler softly, wiping tears off her cheeks with her free hand.
"Probably not," Chandler answered, his voice just as soft and his eyes fixed on the picture. "I always thought Connor looked more like you," he explained, swallowing hard as he recalled how many of Monica's traits – physical and behavioral – their son had inherited.
Monica closed her eyes, leaning against her husband as she tried to envision what the toddler she had known would look like now. For a moment – just a fleeting second – she wondered if he was even still alive…but she pushed the thought away, refusing to even acknowledge it.
He had to be alive…somewhere. She was his mother. She would know if he wasn't.
Emily cried, and Monica reluctantly stood up, wiping the tears off her face as she headed for her daughter's room. Emily stopped whimpering as soon as Monica picked her up, gazing up at her mother and grinning as she reached for Monica's hair. Monica smiled back, kissing her six-month-old daughter's forehead as she untangled her fingers.
It was impossible to believe now, but she hadn't wanted this child. When she first found out she was pregnant, Monica had felt every emotion under the sun – surprise, elation, hope, fear…but the strongest emotion had been guilt. She had felt that having a baby was betraying Connor – replacing him, going on with life without him.
But the first time she felt Emily kick, she had surrendered herself to the tiny child inside her, and she had fallen in love. Emily was theirs and that was all that mattered. The only regret Monica had now was that Emily would never know her brother.
She heard the phone ring in the next room and then Chandler's voice as he answered. She smiled and cooed at Emily as she fastened her new diaper and buttoned her pajamas back up, then realized she had heard nothing from the living room since Chandler answered the phone. Curious, she lifted Emily into her arms and walked into the living room, softly asking Emily what she thought Daddy was doing.
Chandler stood in the middle of the room, his eyes wide and his face white. The phone dangled from his hand, but it dropped to the floor as he turned to look at her. Monica felt her heart jump into her throat as her thoughts flew first to Connor then immediately to Caleb and she stood frozen, her eyes begging Chandler to tell her what was going on.
"They…they found him," Chandler croaked, gasping for breath and gesturing helplessly at the phone. Monica felt her heart stop, sure that it was bad news, but then a look of wonder spread across Chandler's face and he crossed the room to pull them both into his arms, twirling them around. "They found Connor!"
To Be Continued…