A/N: Wow it's been billions of years since I've updated this so I have stuff to say... catnamedzane (or Brittany, I don't know which one you want me to call you... I have the utmost respect for you and I feel like a little peasant talking to you but whatever) - Monica IS sort of a selfish buttmunch and Chandler is also crazy but hey, this is how the story goes :); Jenni - Wow I haven't talked to you in ages! *sob* get online! Me misses you! BluEyes - I want that Chandler too! That's why I write him like that. I also enjoy writing 'Pathetic Chandler' and YOU, of all people, know what I mean. And while I'm talking to you... if you kill Chandler I will... do something really bad!!! Hehe... Julie - Haha! You ARE mean! lol, j/k... I was just trying to make her all innocent and stuff.
Yeah, that's it. If you have no idea what I'm talking about go back and read ur reviews!
Disclaimer: I don't own them, but i am about to own "Friends: The Complete Third Season" and that's as close as I'm going to get.
OH MY GOD! BECCA BOO! Could I REALLY forget you? Never! Just had to get you back for your profile. Hehe :D You know I luv u!! Oh, and I *was* taking creative license with the Franklin thing... I just can't see someone naming their child "Kip." It's gotta be a nickname.
CHAPTER Seven - The Aftermath
The weeks after Kip's death were a blur for Monica. After the initial shock of murdering her own husband and attending his funeral, there came the technicalities. The police immediately questioned her. What happened? How did it happen? Was Kip moving towards you? Did he have a knife? Was he threatening you? Why did Chandler shoot him? Was he angry? The questions went on and on... they were repeated and continued until Monica was weak and shaking.
And she had to deal with her family and friends and their questions. They were all surprised that Kip had been so enraged and jealous that he'd suspected Monica of having an affair - the idea, how preposterous! Monica felt indescribably ashamed as they all began to blame Kip's stupidity for his death, when Monica knew his suspicions had been right on target.
The news came only as a dull shock when Monica heard that Chandler had been arrested for the murder. Monica tried not the think that Chandler was sitting in a jail cell, cold and starving and being accosted by strange men because of a crime she had committed. She could hardly even think about it. Some days she thought about coming clean, about telling the truth, but then she remembered what Chandler had said - "Do you know how that would destroy Caitlin? Don't tell anyone..." He was right.
His mother got him out on 1 million dollars bail, and the next day Monica received a telephone call from a man that she didn't know, telling her to meet at a small diner on the outskirts of Brooklyn. She was frightened at first, but she wanted to see Chandler more than she had wanted to do anything else in her life. She hurried there and walked in to find Chandler sitting at one of the cracked red booths in the deserted restaurant.
"Chandler," she whispered. He turned around and looked at her, a rueful smile on his face.
"Hey," he said. He stood up, and she hugged him tightly.
"I'm sorry," she said, locking her arms around him. "I'm so, so sorry."
"It's okay," Chandler said, stroking her hair.
"No," Monica said, pulling away. "No, no it's not. I shouldn't let you do this. I killed him, not you - "
Chandler cupped her face in his hands. "Monica," he interrupted her, his hands warm on her cold cheeks. "Is Caitlin okay?"
"She doesn't really understand," Monica said. "I told him he's in heaven, but she - she only knows that he's gone."
"How would she feel if both of you were gone?" Chandler asked. "How would anyone ever explain to her that Daddy was dead and Mommy was in jail? How?"
"I - I guess your right." Monica sighed and leaned into Chandler's chest, smelling his cologne and feeling warmer then she had in weeks. "I just - I can't believe that I did this," she mumbled.
"It's all gonna be okay," Chandler said. "You didn't do anything wrong. He - he was crazy, he was going to kill us."
"I know, but how could I - kill somebody?" Monica sobbed. "My own husband? Caity's father?" The questions that had been building up inside of her spilled out, and she clutched Chandler tightly.
"Mon, we can't stay long," Chandler whispered when her sobs had died down. "If anyone sees us - "
"Yeah," Monica agreed, pulling away and sniffling. "Listen, I want you to know that I'm going to be a witness."
"Excuse me?"
"A witness, at your trial. I'm going to testify. I'm going to tell them that he was coming towards you, and that he said he was going to kill us."
"Mon, if you go up there, they're going to ask you if we were having an affair. What are you going to say?"
"I'm going to say you were an old friend and that you'd stopped by to say hi, and then... um..."
"How did we end up upstairs? Sweetie, I appreciate you wanting to do this, but they'll grill you to death up there and there won't be anything we can do. And anyway, lying on the stand is perjury."
"I don't care," Monica said with a shrug. "At least let me talk to your lawyer," she pleaded. "I'm an eyewitness! My husband was killed. They're not going to think I'm lying - "
"Unless it comes out that we were having an affair," Chandler said. He stepped back and ran his hands through his hair. "Monica, listen. I don't - I don't know how many more times we're going to get to have together."
"Don't say that," Monica said. "You'll get off, don't say that - "
"I don't know that!" Chandler said. "And I've got to start planning for it, all right? I might go to jail for the rest of my life - "
"Chandler, please," Monica said, her eyes filling with tears again. "I - I..."
"Okay,"Chandler said, holding her close to him. "Okay. But I... I also want you to know that no matter what happens; I won't turn you in."
Monica nodded into his chest. "I know."
"I want you to be sure okay? I just want you to know that I would do anything for you." Chandler seemed set on assuring her that he would continue the charade. And Monica was glad. Although she trusted Chandler with her life, there had always been the fear that he would crack under pressure.
"Come on." He led her outside and around to the side of the diner. "Shh, sweetie."
Monica kissed him quickly, feeling her pull towards him strong as ever. He wrapped his arms around her and they made love right there in the parking lot of the diner. Then he whispered a sweet, "Good-bye," into her ear, and kissed her one last time.
And then Monica got into her car and drove back to her empty house.
That night, she awoke from a nightmare screaming. She thrashed around in her sheets, drenched in a cold sweat, tears on her face. She'd had the nightmare before... in it, she'd watched as Kip stabbed Chandler over and over. She had a gun in her hand, and she was shooting Kip 10, 20 times, but the bullets did nothing, and he kept ripping Chandler apart - and then he came at her, his arm outstretched, the bloody knife aimed for her chest. She screamed, but no sound came out of her mouth, only blood - and then she woke up.
Monica did not move for several minutes, only quivered in her bed, sobbing. Then she got out of bed, washed her face, and tiptoed into Caitlin's room.
Since Kip's death, Monica had seen very little of her daughter. Mr. and Mrs. Geller had decided that it wouldn't be good to leave Monica and Caitlin alone for long periods of time, and as a result, they, along with Ross, Rachel, Kip's family, and a few friends, were constantly taking Caitlin to their homes, or staying with Monica. Monica had the feeling that her parents thought she was a threat to herself and her daughter, after the horror of watching her husband murdered. Sometimes Monica was afraid they were right - although they didn't know the half of it - and this night was one of those times.
Her daughter was lying peacefully in bed, her young face relaxed and her breathing deep. Monica knelt next to her, softly smoothing her hair. Suddenly, Caitlin opened her eyes and whispered, "Mommy?"
Monica jumped. "Oh, sweetie, I'm sorry I woke you up."
"S'ok," Caitlin said with a yawn. She stared up at her mother. "Mommy, can I have some milk?"
"Sure, babes, let's go downstairs." Monica helped her daughter out of bed and then picked her up. Caitlin leaned her head against Monica's shoulder as Monica carried her down the stairs to the kitchen.
They both squinted in the bright white light of the kitchen. Monica sat Caitlin on the kitchen counter and poured two glasses of milk. They sat in silence, drinking the milk, until Caitlin asked, "Is Daddy happy in heaven?"
"He's very happy," Monica answered immediately. "He's never been happier in his life. You know what's in heaven?"
"Ponies?"
Monica smiled. "Yeah, I think there's ponies. And playgrounds. And vanilla ice cream."
"With sprinkles?"
"With every topping you can imagine."
"Wow. Will I go there?"
"I'd kinda like to keep you here with me for now, but - yes, someday you'll go to heaven."
"And I'll be with Daddy?"
"Yes. But not until your very, very old."
"Like Grandma?"
Monica snorted. "Older than Grandma."
"That's old."
"Oh yeah."
They drank their milk some more.
"Does Daddy miss me?" Caitlin asked in a small voice.
"He misses you so much that it hurts. He wishes he was down here playing with you and kissing you and watching you get big. He wishes he didn't have to leave, even to go to heaven - that's how much he misses you."
"I miss him too."
"So do I," Monica said, wrapping her arms around Caitlin. It didn't matter right then that the two were seeing the faces of different men.
