This fic is based on what could've been if Joey's comment in Season 3 came true. Monica married a tall, muscular blonde named Hoyt ("it's a name"). They have two girls and a boy, and live in a big house with a swimming pool that has one of those signs that says "We don't swim in your toilet, so don't pee in our pool". But things arn't as happy for them as Joey's prediction made out.
Also, it is now what would've been Season 8. A whole buncha stuff never happened, that you can guess along the way. The important stuff is that Ross and Emily are married, Phoebe is married to a guy named Kurt, Rachel is single, Joey and Chandler still live together. The characters arn't mine, as you bloomin' well know (Well, some of 'em might be...like the kids, and I don't own Hoyt's name). So, read and review.
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Monica winced as the glass bottle hit the wall and broke. The shattered pieces fell to the floor and glistened in the moonlight shining into the room, reflecting the tears forming in her eyes. She jumped back to avoid the chair flung across the room, that hit the wall with a sickening thud. Closing her eyes, she clutched the child in her arms closer to her. The stench of alcohol in Hoyt's breath seemed to stain the air, as his angry words pierced the stillness of the night.
She had known this was coming for hours. His absence in the house could not mean anything other than that he was at a bar, and would return home in this drunken, violent state. She told the girls to stay in their room, hoping he would not hit her or them.
And now as she held her son, she prayed he wouldn't hit her, only for little Marshall's sake. She couldn't put him down for he would only cry, and this would inevitably trigger her husband to hit her. And she could not let that happen. It wasn't that she was afraid of the pain, as she was more than used to it, after five years of marriage. But knowing her two girls were in the the next room made her conscious of how it was affecting them.
Hoyt slammed his fist down onto the table, knocking over a vase. He ranted and raved and made ridiculous accusations. He swore at her, saying things she hoped the girls would not be able to hear or to understand. The cruel words spat out by the man she loved stung her, and it was almost too much to bare.
But she knew she couldn't cry, and forced back tears. That was the routine. With alarming regularity, her husband would disappear and come home inebriated. For hours he'd shout at her, break things, and beat her. And all she could do was let it happen, and concentrate on not crying.
Then after what seemed like forever, he would finally quiet down. And then there was the morning. When he would tell her how sorry he was. How much he loved her. He'd beg for forgivness, even crying. Pleading for one last chance, because he couldn't bare the thought of losing her.
And she always would give him just one last chance.
Marshall started to cry. She hushed him and began to gently pat his back, but he was still upset.
"Will you shut him up?!" came the angry, slurred voice.
"Hoyt, please..." she pleaded, trying to calm Marshall down.
"Shut up! Just shut the fuck up!!" he screamed, covering his ears as Monica bit her lip, hoping the neighbours wouldn't hear the commotion.
Hoyt kicked the couch. "We never should've had that brat!" he cursed, pointing at the baby. "It's all your fault! You stupid bitch!" He moved towards her, and she backed away, her stomach in a knot.
"You don't mean that..." she said weakly, looking down at Marshall. She knew he was drunk, but hated him saying such things about their son.
"Don't you tell me what I mean!"
Monica felt the punch stun her face. She stumbled, the tears came, and she pulled Marshall closer.
"I work my ass off for this goddam family! It's useless! Everything's crap!"
He stormed off into their bedroom, slamming the door with all his might. She breathed a sigh of relief. She looked down at Marshall again and smiled.
"Shh...it's alright..." she cooed.
----
When she'd finished wrapping the glass up in old newspaper and thrown it away, she dusted her hands and picked up Marshall. Quietly, she opened the door of her daughter's bedroom. In the darkness of the room, she could make out a pair of frightened eyes.
"Willa? That you, baby?"
"Uh-huh. Is daddy still angry?" replied the small, quivering voice.
Monica sighed and sat down beside her daughter. "Daddy's sorry, sweethart."
Willa pouted. "He's always sorry." For a four-year-old, she was smart, with sharp blue eyes and jet black hair. But, bright as she was, she could not understand why her father would so often hurt her mother.
"I know honey."
"Danni's asleep. She was scared."
Monica glanced at the bed opposite Willa's. Sleeping peacefully was two-year-old Dannielle.
"So was I," Monica whispered.
"She was crying, mommy. But I wasn't. I was brave."
Monica stroked Willa's hair. "I'm proud, honey. You do have to be brave, just for now. Because it will be okay, you'll see."
Willa didn't respond. She'd been told things were going to be okay many times. But they still wern't.
Marshall gave a slight whimper. Monica sighed and stood up.
"I'm gonna go feed your brother. I want you to get dressed and wake up Danni, can you do that for me?"
Willa nodded. "Why?"
"We're gonna go visit Uncle Joey and Uncle Chandler now, okay?"
"OK."
----
Joey rubbed his eyes as he headed for the door, wondering who could be knocking on the door at this hour. He yawned and opened the door to see Monica standing before him, holding Marshall in one arm and holding Dannielle's hand with the other. Seeing the bruise on her tear-stained face, he instantly knew why she was there.
He stepped back. "Come in."
Monica smiled meekly. "Thanks."
They entered, and Joey knelt down to the girls. "You two look tired. You wanna go take a nap in my room?"
Willa knew this was a time when she had to do what she was told, so she took her sister's hand and they disappeared into Joey's room, just as Chandler emereged from his.
"Mon...?" Like Joey, he too knew straightaway why she was here upon seeing the bruise. "That asshole!" he said through clenched teeth.
"Don't get angry..." Monica began. Joey took Marshall from her arms and put him in the basinette they had in the apartment for when they visited.
Chandler ran a hand through his hair. "My God! Not again! When are you gonna divorce his ass?"
"Exactly!" agreed Joey, "You have to leave him!"
"I can't..."
Joey and Chandler shared a look, they'd heard this before. So many times had they tried to pursuade Monica to leave Hoyt, all of them successful.
"Why not?"
Monica sat down on the couch and picked at her fingernails. "I love him," she said simply.
"Oh, I'm sure he loves you too!" Joey spat sarcastically.
"Yeah, of course he does, and that's why he beats the shit out of you every ten minutes!" added Chandler. His face was in an look of fury.
"Shh, the girls!" Monica glared, motioning to Joey's room.
Chandler's expression softened. He sat down on the couch beside her and put an arm around her. "Sorry...it's just that you have to listen to us," he pleaded quietly, "He's abusing, you, Mon."
Joey knelt down to face her. "He is. You're going to get seriously hurt."
"And what about the girls?" Chandler continued, "Huh, what about them? Think about what they've witnessed. Marshall's not even six months old yet, and you've already been seriously beat up twice since he's been born, not to mention the weekly punches and kicks. Are you really going to put your kids through that for any longer?"
A single tear rolled down Monica's cheek. "I've thought so much about leaving him," she sobbed, "But I don't know if I can do it..."
Chandler kissed her cheek. "Shh, it's okay...you'll be fine if you leave him. We'll all help you."
"Yeah, Mon, we're all here for you." said Joey, taking her hand.
----
The next morning, Joey and Chandler were both on the sofa bed, Monica asleep in Chandler's room. They were stirred by the sound of a sharp knock on the door. Joey sat up sleepily, and was fully awoken by the second knock. He jumped up, followed by Chandler.
"If that's him, I swear to God, I'll kill him!" promised Joey.
"I'll help ya."
Joey looked through the peephole. "Yep, it's him," he said to Chandler, who shook his head in disgust and opened the door.
"What do you want?" Chandler said coldly.
Hoyt walked in. "Is she here?"
"We never said you could come in."
"Monica?" he called. He turned to Joey and Chandler. "Where is she?"
Chandler's bedroom door opened and Monica appeared. "Hoyt?" she asked sleepily.
Hoyt sighed and rushed to her, pulling her into a hug. "Thank God! I was so worried, honey!"
Joey pulled Hoyt away from Monica and frowned. "Don't touch her!"
"Joey..." Monica warned.
"What's going on?" came a small voice. Willa and Dannielle stood in the doorway of Joey's bedroom.
Hoyt picked up Dannielle and kissed her. "Baby!"
"Hi daddy." she said shyly, remembering very well what had happened the night before. Hoyt put her down and turned to his wife.
"I am so sorry."
She sighed, not knowing what to say.
"Maybe you should've thought about how sorry you'd be last night, before you punched her!" Joey yelled.
"Come on girls," said Chandler, sensing this could get ugly, "Let's go see Rachel." He picked up Marshall and went across the hall, leaving Joey glaring at Hoyt, arms folded.
"Look, maybe you should just back off, Joey, this has nothing to do with you," Hoyt said sternly, pushing a hand up to Joey.
"Like hell it's got nothing to do with me! She's my friend, and you treat her like shit!"
Hoyt ignored him. "Come on, Mon, let's get the kids and go home." He took Monica's hand and started for the door, to be blocked by Joey.
"Woah, she's not going anywhere with you!"
"Move it!"
"No, you move it--out of my apartment!"
"I'm not going anywhere without my wife, alright?"
"No, it's not alright, not how you treat her!"
"You don't know what you're on abou--" Hoyt was interupted by a powerful blow to the face from Joey, who couldn't handle it anymore.
"You bastard..."
"Joey, just calm down, please?" Monica begged, taking hold of his arm. She looked towards Hoyt, who was putting a hand to his bleeding lip.
"Get out." Joey's voice was full of hatred, as were his eyes.
"Not without Mon--"
"Get out!!"
"I told you, I'm not going anywhere without--"
"Just leave, Hoyt." said Monica, her eyes fixed to the floor.
Hoyt shook his head. "Fuck this." He left the apartment, slamming the door behind him.
----
"I don't understand how you can't just leave him," observed Phoebe, putting her coffee down, "I mean, you obviously want to!"
"It's not that simple, Pheebs. I love him, he's my husband, I can't just throw all that away."
"I know I wouldn't stand for an abusive husband." said Rachel.
"You can't say that, Rach, you're not married. Phoebe, if Kurt hit you, would you just instantly divorce him?"
Phoebe thought about this. "If he hit me once, maybe I would forgive him, but not twice. Hoyt's hit you how many times? Fifty thousand and two?"
"Not funny."
"Not supposed to be funny, it wasn't sarcasm."
"She's right, Mon. You can't live the 'I-walked-into-a-door' thing your whole life," Rachel said, leaning forward on the Central Perk couch, "You have to get out."
"I know I do." Monica sighed, looking down.
"We're all gonna be here for you. I know it's hard right now, but I promise you, things will get better when you've left him."
"I don't know if I CAN leave him."
"Of course you can," urged Rachel, as Ross and Emily walked in with Willa, Dannielle and Marshall, "You have to at least do it for them."
As Monica watched her daughters smiling and laughing with her brother, Emily holding Marshall in her arms, she knew Rachel was right.
She had to leave Hoyt. And she was going to do it as soon as possible.
--------------------------
And that's Part 1. I know it was short, but it was just to cover the Hoyt situation. Please review and tell me if you think this is worth continuing.
Also, it is now what would've been Season 8. A whole buncha stuff never happened, that you can guess along the way. The important stuff is that Ross and Emily are married, Phoebe is married to a guy named Kurt, Rachel is single, Joey and Chandler still live together. The characters arn't mine, as you bloomin' well know (Well, some of 'em might be...like the kids, and I don't own Hoyt's name). So, read and review.
---------------
Monica winced as the glass bottle hit the wall and broke. The shattered pieces fell to the floor and glistened in the moonlight shining into the room, reflecting the tears forming in her eyes. She jumped back to avoid the chair flung across the room, that hit the wall with a sickening thud. Closing her eyes, she clutched the child in her arms closer to her. The stench of alcohol in Hoyt's breath seemed to stain the air, as his angry words pierced the stillness of the night.
She had known this was coming for hours. His absence in the house could not mean anything other than that he was at a bar, and would return home in this drunken, violent state. She told the girls to stay in their room, hoping he would not hit her or them.
And now as she held her son, she prayed he wouldn't hit her, only for little Marshall's sake. She couldn't put him down for he would only cry, and this would inevitably trigger her husband to hit her. And she could not let that happen. It wasn't that she was afraid of the pain, as she was more than used to it, after five years of marriage. But knowing her two girls were in the the next room made her conscious of how it was affecting them.
Hoyt slammed his fist down onto the table, knocking over a vase. He ranted and raved and made ridiculous accusations. He swore at her, saying things she hoped the girls would not be able to hear or to understand. The cruel words spat out by the man she loved stung her, and it was almost too much to bare.
But she knew she couldn't cry, and forced back tears. That was the routine. With alarming regularity, her husband would disappear and come home inebriated. For hours he'd shout at her, break things, and beat her. And all she could do was let it happen, and concentrate on not crying.
Then after what seemed like forever, he would finally quiet down. And then there was the morning. When he would tell her how sorry he was. How much he loved her. He'd beg for forgivness, even crying. Pleading for one last chance, because he couldn't bare the thought of losing her.
And she always would give him just one last chance.
Marshall started to cry. She hushed him and began to gently pat his back, but he was still upset.
"Will you shut him up?!" came the angry, slurred voice.
"Hoyt, please..." she pleaded, trying to calm Marshall down.
"Shut up! Just shut the fuck up!!" he screamed, covering his ears as Monica bit her lip, hoping the neighbours wouldn't hear the commotion.
Hoyt kicked the couch. "We never should've had that brat!" he cursed, pointing at the baby. "It's all your fault! You stupid bitch!" He moved towards her, and she backed away, her stomach in a knot.
"You don't mean that..." she said weakly, looking down at Marshall. She knew he was drunk, but hated him saying such things about their son.
"Don't you tell me what I mean!"
Monica felt the punch stun her face. She stumbled, the tears came, and she pulled Marshall closer.
"I work my ass off for this goddam family! It's useless! Everything's crap!"
He stormed off into their bedroom, slamming the door with all his might. She breathed a sigh of relief. She looked down at Marshall again and smiled.
"Shh...it's alright..." she cooed.
----
When she'd finished wrapping the glass up in old newspaper and thrown it away, she dusted her hands and picked up Marshall. Quietly, she opened the door of her daughter's bedroom. In the darkness of the room, she could make out a pair of frightened eyes.
"Willa? That you, baby?"
"Uh-huh. Is daddy still angry?" replied the small, quivering voice.
Monica sighed and sat down beside her daughter. "Daddy's sorry, sweethart."
Willa pouted. "He's always sorry." For a four-year-old, she was smart, with sharp blue eyes and jet black hair. But, bright as she was, she could not understand why her father would so often hurt her mother.
"I know honey."
"Danni's asleep. She was scared."
Monica glanced at the bed opposite Willa's. Sleeping peacefully was two-year-old Dannielle.
"So was I," Monica whispered.
"She was crying, mommy. But I wasn't. I was brave."
Monica stroked Willa's hair. "I'm proud, honey. You do have to be brave, just for now. Because it will be okay, you'll see."
Willa didn't respond. She'd been told things were going to be okay many times. But they still wern't.
Marshall gave a slight whimper. Monica sighed and stood up.
"I'm gonna go feed your brother. I want you to get dressed and wake up Danni, can you do that for me?"
Willa nodded. "Why?"
"We're gonna go visit Uncle Joey and Uncle Chandler now, okay?"
"OK."
----
Joey rubbed his eyes as he headed for the door, wondering who could be knocking on the door at this hour. He yawned and opened the door to see Monica standing before him, holding Marshall in one arm and holding Dannielle's hand with the other. Seeing the bruise on her tear-stained face, he instantly knew why she was there.
He stepped back. "Come in."
Monica smiled meekly. "Thanks."
They entered, and Joey knelt down to the girls. "You two look tired. You wanna go take a nap in my room?"
Willa knew this was a time when she had to do what she was told, so she took her sister's hand and they disappeared into Joey's room, just as Chandler emereged from his.
"Mon...?" Like Joey, he too knew straightaway why she was here upon seeing the bruise. "That asshole!" he said through clenched teeth.
"Don't get angry..." Monica began. Joey took Marshall from her arms and put him in the basinette they had in the apartment for when they visited.
Chandler ran a hand through his hair. "My God! Not again! When are you gonna divorce his ass?"
"Exactly!" agreed Joey, "You have to leave him!"
"I can't..."
Joey and Chandler shared a look, they'd heard this before. So many times had they tried to pursuade Monica to leave Hoyt, all of them successful.
"Why not?"
Monica sat down on the couch and picked at her fingernails. "I love him," she said simply.
"Oh, I'm sure he loves you too!" Joey spat sarcastically.
"Yeah, of course he does, and that's why he beats the shit out of you every ten minutes!" added Chandler. His face was in an look of fury.
"Shh, the girls!" Monica glared, motioning to Joey's room.
Chandler's expression softened. He sat down on the couch beside her and put an arm around her. "Sorry...it's just that you have to listen to us," he pleaded quietly, "He's abusing, you, Mon."
Joey knelt down to face her. "He is. You're going to get seriously hurt."
"And what about the girls?" Chandler continued, "Huh, what about them? Think about what they've witnessed. Marshall's not even six months old yet, and you've already been seriously beat up twice since he's been born, not to mention the weekly punches and kicks. Are you really going to put your kids through that for any longer?"
A single tear rolled down Monica's cheek. "I've thought so much about leaving him," she sobbed, "But I don't know if I can do it..."
Chandler kissed her cheek. "Shh, it's okay...you'll be fine if you leave him. We'll all help you."
"Yeah, Mon, we're all here for you." said Joey, taking her hand.
----
The next morning, Joey and Chandler were both on the sofa bed, Monica asleep in Chandler's room. They were stirred by the sound of a sharp knock on the door. Joey sat up sleepily, and was fully awoken by the second knock. He jumped up, followed by Chandler.
"If that's him, I swear to God, I'll kill him!" promised Joey.
"I'll help ya."
Joey looked through the peephole. "Yep, it's him," he said to Chandler, who shook his head in disgust and opened the door.
"What do you want?" Chandler said coldly.
Hoyt walked in. "Is she here?"
"We never said you could come in."
"Monica?" he called. He turned to Joey and Chandler. "Where is she?"
Chandler's bedroom door opened and Monica appeared. "Hoyt?" she asked sleepily.
Hoyt sighed and rushed to her, pulling her into a hug. "Thank God! I was so worried, honey!"
Joey pulled Hoyt away from Monica and frowned. "Don't touch her!"
"Joey..." Monica warned.
"What's going on?" came a small voice. Willa and Dannielle stood in the doorway of Joey's bedroom.
Hoyt picked up Dannielle and kissed her. "Baby!"
"Hi daddy." she said shyly, remembering very well what had happened the night before. Hoyt put her down and turned to his wife.
"I am so sorry."
She sighed, not knowing what to say.
"Maybe you should've thought about how sorry you'd be last night, before you punched her!" Joey yelled.
"Come on girls," said Chandler, sensing this could get ugly, "Let's go see Rachel." He picked up Marshall and went across the hall, leaving Joey glaring at Hoyt, arms folded.
"Look, maybe you should just back off, Joey, this has nothing to do with you," Hoyt said sternly, pushing a hand up to Joey.
"Like hell it's got nothing to do with me! She's my friend, and you treat her like shit!"
Hoyt ignored him. "Come on, Mon, let's get the kids and go home." He took Monica's hand and started for the door, to be blocked by Joey.
"Woah, she's not going anywhere with you!"
"Move it!"
"No, you move it--out of my apartment!"
"I'm not going anywhere without my wife, alright?"
"No, it's not alright, not how you treat her!"
"You don't know what you're on abou--" Hoyt was interupted by a powerful blow to the face from Joey, who couldn't handle it anymore.
"You bastard..."
"Joey, just calm down, please?" Monica begged, taking hold of his arm. She looked towards Hoyt, who was putting a hand to his bleeding lip.
"Get out." Joey's voice was full of hatred, as were his eyes.
"Not without Mon--"
"Get out!!"
"I told you, I'm not going anywhere without--"
"Just leave, Hoyt." said Monica, her eyes fixed to the floor.
Hoyt shook his head. "Fuck this." He left the apartment, slamming the door behind him.
----
"I don't understand how you can't just leave him," observed Phoebe, putting her coffee down, "I mean, you obviously want to!"
"It's not that simple, Pheebs. I love him, he's my husband, I can't just throw all that away."
"I know I wouldn't stand for an abusive husband." said Rachel.
"You can't say that, Rach, you're not married. Phoebe, if Kurt hit you, would you just instantly divorce him?"
Phoebe thought about this. "If he hit me once, maybe I would forgive him, but not twice. Hoyt's hit you how many times? Fifty thousand and two?"
"Not funny."
"Not supposed to be funny, it wasn't sarcasm."
"She's right, Mon. You can't live the 'I-walked-into-a-door' thing your whole life," Rachel said, leaning forward on the Central Perk couch, "You have to get out."
"I know I do." Monica sighed, looking down.
"We're all gonna be here for you. I know it's hard right now, but I promise you, things will get better when you've left him."
"I don't know if I CAN leave him."
"Of course you can," urged Rachel, as Ross and Emily walked in with Willa, Dannielle and Marshall, "You have to at least do it for them."
As Monica watched her daughters smiling and laughing with her brother, Emily holding Marshall in her arms, she knew Rachel was right.
She had to leave Hoyt. And she was going to do it as soon as possible.
--------------------------
And that's Part 1. I know it was short, but it was just to cover the Hoyt situation. Please review and tell me if you think this is worth continuing.