Part 2 of I'll Be Seeing You, by Adeline and Tennant.
(Standard disclaimer applies, see Part 1 for details.
Sincere thanks & apologies to all who have been waiting, we hope you think
it's worth it.)
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Blue eyes, baby's got blue eyes
Like a deep blue sea, on a blue, blue day...
(--Sir Elton John, Blue Eyes)
~
Carrying fresh white tulips, Ross ventured into the pale blue room, and noiselessly closed the door behind him. Monica was lying limply on the hospital bed in the centre of the room, so he sat down in the side chair to watch her sleep. This was probably the most peaceful she would feel for a long time, he thought, so he was a little dismayed when she woke up so quickly, at the tiny sound he made, arranging the flowers in a vase on her night stand.
"Hi..." he spoke softly, tenderly brushing a strand of hair away from her lovely face.
But whatever slight calmness he might have seen in her, as she opened her eyes, was replaced in a split second by a frantic, worried look when she noticed the empty incubator beside her.
"Wha's happen'd, wurrs mai ba-by?"
The words didn't come out as clear as she'd intended them, for her throat was sore from not drinking, and she hadn't spoken for hours, but Ross could make them out alright. "Your baby is gonna be okay, don't worry", he told her, his voice still as soft, "they took her into intensive care, but they said it's just a formality. It seems she's doing quite well for four weeks premature. Don't worry about this," he advised again, "you need to rest."
Monica just nodded, and took her eyes away from her ever-supportive brother, as she tried to register the news. Truth was, she didn't know if she should be thankful or upset, and she felt ashamed & guilty about that. She had just never felt so much pain in her whole life. Physically, she hadn't felt a thing. Her daughter, Brittany, had been born by caesarean section, while she lay anesthetized, and at least for her there had been no medical complications. Emotionally, she'd never felt worse, adding one more black layer to the misery she was buried beneath.
And now, she wondered, maybe it would have been better for the both of them if the child had not survived. Then she would have been free to do whatever she wanted - and needed - to do. Now she couldn't, because, well, "she had no valid reason to." And in spite of it all, she did love that daughter of hers. She didn't have any choice. And yet, if the doctors hadn't succeeded in helping little Brittany take her first breath, or if she'd been stillborn, Monica didn't know whether she would have felt relieved or devastated. Surely, there must have been a reason why the girl been born with the umbilical cord noosed around her neck, four weeks early. Maybe it was a sign that she wasn't meant to live...
Yet live she did, and so did her mother Monica. What exactly was she supposed to do? That child had never asked to come into the world, so was she just supposed to abandon her? But then again, how was she supposed to raise a kid in the state of mind she was in, and getting worse every day?
~
"Monica?" Rachel knocked on her best friend's bedroom door. "Would you mind coming out for a couple of secs?"
"Be right there! I'll just put my girl to bed, and I'll be there."
Monica sounded cheerful. Too cheerful, and Rachel didn't believe her for a second. Her friend had hardly stepped outside that bedroom ever since she'd got back from hospital with the baby. So rarely, in fact, that the upkeep of the apartment was left to the care of her, and Phoebe, and Ross... which showed. But these days it seemed Monica could not care any less, and this more than anything else made her friends worried sick about her.
"What did you want?" Monica asked as she came into the lounge, betrayed by the insecurity which seeped past her defences.
"I just wanted to talk, Monica. We haven't had a proper conversation in months, so we are gonna sit down, and talk!" Rachel forcefully commanded, as they made their way to the kitchen table.
"Um, sure." Monica sat warily, trying to keep her wall up. "What about?"
"You know what, Monica. Let me help you!" pleaded Rachel, reaching for her friend's hand, and squeezing it.
"I..." Monica sighed. "I don't need help." Her voice was icy cold. She put her hand away on her lap.
"Please!" insisted Rachel, visibly upset. "You just... haven't been yoursel--"
Monica was fed up with this, so she interrupted her. "You know what? Just forget it", she snapped, "don't try to help me, don't... don't try to solve my problems. Just don't. I'll never be myself again, and you know it. Without him, it's just... not the same, okay? And all I'm asking from you is to understand that. Is it so hard?"
Rachel sadly shook her head, and carefully let some seconds pass before trying to explain. "Mon, we're very worried about you."
"I know... You think I don't notice how you're all being so... extra-nice around me. But I do", confessed Monica. "And I appreciate it, but still... it's not gonna make things any better, so, just..." She looked up for a second. "Just drop it."
Rachel almost cried at this. She knew Monica had no idea how depressed she was making her feel. How helpless, how useless. And she wished that she knew the right words to say, but nothing came to mind. She hated seeing her old friend this unhappy, and being unable to do a damn fuck about it. She hated remaining in silence, and watching her let life pass by, waiting for some unlikely epiphany to brighten her spirit.
"How are you coping, you know, with the baby?" asked Rachel, in a voice hanging heavy with hopelessness.
"We're fine", lied Monica.
But Rachel was not going to be fooled that easily. "Then... why- why do I hear you crying every night? Why," she choked once, and her voice was shaky, "why do I often end up crying too?"
"Because, because I'm not fine", admitted Monica, and finally she let the words flow freely. "I'm not fine. I haven't been fine in such a long time that I actually can't remember how it feels to be fine... Is that good enough an answer for you?" She was a little mad.
Rachel ignored that last question, and struggled to hold back her tears. "You have got to let us help you, Monica", she insisted, "we are here."
"What, what are you gonna do Rachel? Save me? From what? Have you ever thought that maybe, maybe I don't want to be saved? There is nothing to be saved."
Rachel's heart sank once more, and she let one little tear slip out. "I want to save you. From the pain."
"Oh yeah?" snarled Monica, "for what reason? Don't you get that I have no will to live anym--"
By now, Rachel was furious. "For your daughter!! Good God, Monica, do you think that what you're doing is what Chandler would want? For you to stay like this?" She was almost yelling, and the two of them were almost crying.
"No", admitted Monica, looking away, "no, he wouldn't."
"No, he wouldn't", Rachel calmly echoed, "Monica, you've got to start living again."
"I don't know, Rachel. I don't know..."
"But you're not thinking about... suicide, are you?"
Monica let a long minute pass, and then collapsed in tears. "Yes. Yes I am, all the time. All of the damned time."
"Oh, God", sighed Rachel, and spoke softly. "Monica... your daughter needs you, you know that. I need you. We all do, we can't take it if another of our frien--"
"I know!" snapped Monica, exhausted. "I know... And don't think it makes me happy, 'cause it doesn't. And I don't want to hurt you guys, but... I can't go on like this! I can't. I've tried, and look at me... I can't. It'd be unfair to Brittany, and it'd be unfair to you."
"Monica", started Rachel solemnly, with tears in her eyes, "please promise me, you won't do anything drastic."
Monica looked her squarely in the eye, knowing perfectly well what kind of drastic things Rachel meant, and she seemed to hesitate for a while. "I don't know, Rachel... I'll try." Then she attempted to smile, but that was still way above her abilities.
Still, at the very least, she had tried.
~
The next evening, after Brittany had gone to sleep, Rachel persuaded Monica to come with her, and eat dinner in the kitchen with Ross & Phoebe. There was an unspoken agreement in what was left of their gang that nobody mentioned anything that could upset Monica, and so an awkward silence hung over their table for the whole duration of the meal. Ross & Phoebe looked at each other, Rachel kept her eyes on Monica, and the new mother gazed steadily down at her food. But fickle as that seemed, she was making the effort to be there.
Three days after that, Monica failed to return to her bedroom after changing Brittany's diaper. Instead, she sat on the couch, and spoon-fed her baby food. Mashed carrots & onions. Ross walked in, and she didn't shy away. He cooed at his little niece, and Monica was even glad that he was there.
The following weekend, Phoebe managed to get her to come shopping for baby clothes with Rachel, and the three women did have some fun. It still tugged at Monica's heart that it wasn't Chandler she was buying baby things with, but she was glad that she had her friends with her.
A few weeks later, for the first time in a long while, the apartment was as clean as a nickel. Monica had started coming down to Central Perk again, or at least, every once in a while. With time, every once in a while turned into once a week, twice a week, and eventually, every other day.
~
But no matter how hard she tried, thought Monica, she never felt even half as happy as she used to be. She often thought back a couple of years to when Joey & Chandler were alive, and everything was great. She knew that life didn't get any better than that. But now it was all over.
And if it was all over, thought Monica, why should she keep on living this life, this pointless, worthless life? She knew why. Brittany was why. But then again, it wasn't like she wouldn't be taken care of, should anything... happen. Phoebe, Rachel, Ross & Ben were all crazy about the sweet little girl, as were Mom & Dad. They would provide her with a stable family, and raise her in the best environment.
Monica felt that this was something she wouldn't be able to do. Instead, she would most probably talk ceaselessly to Brittany about a father she'd never know, hurting her in the process, and never doing her any good. Whereas if she was to break her promise to Rachel, then the up-bringing of her daughter would be something she wouldn't have to worry about.
So what was left to worry about, then? Nothing, Monica realized. Hence nothing was holding her back, should she ultimately decide to give up...
~
She loved her daughter, she truly did, with all her heart. But as time wore on, and the feeling was growing more with every day, just looking at her became more & more painful. It was eerie how Brittany looked like her father, in fact she resembled him a lot. A lot, a lot, a lot. Her thin little nose was Monica's, but all her other features she took from Chandler. The shiny little burning sparkles in her eyes when she smiled, that was him. And it reminded Monica that he was never, ever, ever going to be there any more. Not ever.
Looking at her daughter made Monica depressed. It made her hurt. It made her feel guilty that she had decided to have her, when she knew perfectly well that this was how things were going to be. It made her long for Chandler, to long for the slightest chance of seeing him again, of going to him, someplace beyond.
~
Every moment marked with apparitions of your soul,
I'm ever swiftly moving, trying to escape this desire...
The yearning to be near you, I do what I have to do...
But I have the sense to recognise
That I don't know how to let you go...
(--Sarah McLachlan, Do What You Have To Do)
~
While Monica knew that everybody around her thought she was getting better & better, things were only getting worse for her. She'd gotten pretty good at making believe she was fine, she had to admit. And it was better this way. She didn't need people checking on her every five minutes asking her how she was. Plus, it was nice to have a little control of the situation.
A fake smile a day, keeps the questions at bay.
On the other hand, when all alone in the empty stone-cold bed, with the stone-cold pillow, she was having a hard time keeping control. She still cried herself to sleep every night, and she was sure that Rachel must be able to hear her. But Monica kept coming out in the morning like she was just fine, and it seemed that Rachel kept pretending to buy it.
It was so much more convenient for Monica to conceal that she felt so lost. It was so much more convenient for the gang not to know that their friend was on the brink of losing her sanity. She knew it was so much more convenient for them to make themselves believe that, in time, her problems would wither away, instead of facing up to the truth that they never could. Monica was sure her friends had gotten pretty good at making themselves believe convenient things.
~
Ross & Phoebe sat on a bench in Washington Square Park, watching Ben trying to catch the pigeons. Phoebe was wearing Ross's sunglasses.
Rachel had pleaded with Monica to let them take Brittany out, but they were still surprised when Monica had readily agreed. Too readily, thought Phoebe, as she checked on the push-chair, the baby sleeping contentedly in the fresh air.
"Why wouldn't you let Rachel come with us?" asked Ross, his eyes squinting in the bright sunshine, "are you guys okay?"
"Yes Ross", she assured, taking hold of his hand, "I just think Monica mustn't be left alone, I don't care what she says. It's just so hard keeping up this act that everything is getting back to normal."
"How can it?" agreed Ross. "God, how I miss Joey & Chandler. Hey - did you ever hear the story of how Chandler came to choose the name Brittany?"
"Yes, of course", she said, "after Britain, you know, London, where they... anyway, it's cute".
"It's cute, yes", replied Ross, "but it's not true. You uh, you wanna hear something weird?"
Phoebe grinned. She loved this little game they played. "Always."
"Chandler thought the name up years ago", began Ross. "I remember him telling me the story. Do you recall when he got Joey a job at his office, but Joey invented a himself new persona, complete with a wife called Karen, you know after Rachel's middle name, and started hobnobbing with the bosses, to hide all the errors he was making? Well, to stop him, Chandler had to invent a family of his own, and he called his imaginary daughter... Brittany!"
"Hmmmm" mumbled Phoebe, sounding very puzzled, "Joey told that story to me, or at least something like it. You see, the way Joey tells it, Brittany was his daughter!"
"Oh!" blurted Ross, "you're right. That's weird. In that case, why did Chandler choose the name? Do you think he was trying to tell us something?"
"Yes Ross", scorned Phoebe, "a secret message from beyond the grave, a clue to who killed Joey, a new--"
Phoebe stopped short when she saw Ross glaring at her. "Sorry Ross. We've got other things to worry about."
"At least Monica doesn't suspect", said Ross with a smile, and with that he called out to Ben, as Phoebe took the brake off the push-chair, then they began taking Brittany home to her poor mother.
~
Monica began seeing a therapist. She felt awfully bad. She saw her child growing older & bigger, and as much as she wanted to see Brittany all grown up, she knew that at this rate she wouldn't be able to take it. The girl reminded her too much of him. She missed him too much. At this rate, Monica thought, she would end up hating her own flesh & blood, and she didn't want things to come to that.
So she didn't want to leave memories behind her, she had to leave soon, before it was too late. She didn't want Brittany at 3 or 4 years old, asking where her mommy was.
Her therapist tried to reason with her, and talk her out of doing anything drastic. People liked that phrase, she noticed. Monica was the kind to call a spade "a spade" though, and she had her mind set on being drastic, even if a few minor doubts crept into the back of her brain. What if the whole Life After Death crap was just that... crap? What if Phoebe followed suit and killed herself as well? Ross & Rachel would cling onto each other, that she knew. But Phoebe?
The therapist suggested she let herself be committed, to sort things out, and not make any rash decisions. But Monica didn't want to be a burden to her friends & family. She didn't come here in secret for nothing. She didn't want anyone worrying about her, after working so hard to make them believe she was alright. What good was it going to do? Anyway, the decision was almost taken, and it was anything but rushed.
She'd long ago lost count of the nights she'd lain awake in her bed wondering if it was the right thing to do, if there was no other, less hurtful, way. There wasn't. And no matter how she looked at the decision, it always seemed correct. If spiritually she found Chandler again, then great. If she didn't, at least she'd be rid of all the angst, and the acute, persistent, bottomless sadness that inhabited her, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.
The poor bloody therapist probably had no idea, but at least he had helped her to see what she'd sought after. She had nothing to lose. She'd take the memories of her baby with her, and not leave any behind. It was a grand price to pay, but she would be reunited with him. She wanted to believe that.
It was a grand price to pay, but it would all be worthwhile.
~
All those colors long since faded,
All our smiles are confiscated.
Never were we told
We'd be bought and sold,
We were innocent.
(--Fuel, Innocent)
~
Now she had dreams at night. Dreams she never wanted to wake up from. Every night. In them she was reunited with Chandler, and together with their baby, they were a family. And a happy one at that. Oh, they were so very happy. Then when she woke up, her face soaked, reality came, ready to slap her in the face the second that she dared open her swollen eyes. And what a contrast it was from her blissful visions of sleep!
What a saddening, depressing contrast.
She was sick of it, sick of it all. She didn't even feel like she belonged here any more. After over ten years of living here, she just didn't feel like she belonged here at all. There was something uncannily wrong with the picture. Although, to be quite truthful, she didn't feel like she belonged anywhere at all these days. She'd felt that way for quite some time now, and she was sick of it all.
Soon would be her time to go. Soon she would be free. At last.
~
There she was, standing on the balcony railing, staring down at the street, five stories below. It was a little over three o'clock in the morning. Rachel was asleep, Brittany was asleep, Ross & Phoebe were asleep... Hell, the whole city was asleep. Nobody would see her, and she'd exit the world soundlessly.
Her goodbye letter was written, she was ready. Writing it had been quite the hard task, and she'd had to start over many times, for she always spilled a tear or two onto the paper. In the end, she just left them there. A reminder of all the love she had felt, from them & for them. A reminder of how hurtful & unbearable it had all become.
It was a quiet night. A gentle & sparse rain was slowly gliding on the thin air, and onto the ground, five stories down. Five stories down. It was a quiet night, everything was so calm, and peaceful. Monica took one last look around over the city she would never see again. Then she briefly looked up, and down, and to her shaking hands that gripped the cold metal of the fire escape, the last thing that they would ever hold. And she took in one deep breath, the last she would ever take, and she leaned over, and further along, and all the way out, as she would never do again, until she hung only by the tips of her fingers.
And then she let go. Her fall felt like she was flying, she was flying free, careless & free. Nothing, nobody could reach her any more. Nothing, nobody could hurt her any more. She was flying free at last.
Her vision blurred as she floated lower & lower, and for one fleeting second, Monica wondered when she would hit the ground, how she would hit the ground, where she would hit the ground. How would it feel? But mostly she didn't think of that all, for she fell, suddenly faster & faster.
Maybe she wouldn't feel a thing, maybe she would just die on impact, maybe--
~
Suddenly her vision cleared, all thoughts fled. A bright white light blinded her for a moment, and she closed her eyes forcefully to block it out. Awaiting impact. Yet, she did not hit the ground. And as she opened her eyes again, she felt herself hovering in mid-air.
***he wouldn't be there to catch her if she fell***
She looked down, and there lay the body, the body that once was hers, lying on the concrete, all bent & broken. It was such a sad sight. In a single second that lasted forever, she relived her entire life, and when the show was over, she had the urge to shed one symbolic tear that would encapsulate all of her regret, and all of her relief, that would unload the burden she had carried for far too long.
But she simply couldn't. It was such an ethereal feeling. She looked up, maybe in hope for an explanation, and there, shining down on her were two burning sparkles, the shiniest sparkles she had ever seen. She would recognise those in any world, at any time.
***he wouldn't be there to catch her if she fell***
He had been there, all along. And when she fell, he had caught her. And when he caught her, he took her soaring up, higher & higher, then higher still, until she lost all human sensation, to be left only with this warmth inside her that she had never thought she could ever feel again. This loving, comforting, and lasting warmth. His warmth.
~
Blue eyes smiling in the sun, smiling in the rain,
And I am home, and I am home, again...
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Stay tuned! There will be a Part 3.