"Come on, buddy, come on! Goddammit! Come on!"
Joey had hooked his arm under Chandler's right arm and across his chest, slapping his hand down in a seeping pool of blood on the left side of Chandler's shirt. Joey's eyes were wide, despite the mud that flew up into them as he tried to crawl out of the trench, dragging his best friend moaning in agony behind him.
Men were lying everywhere - dead, or dying. The second wave of choppers slowed the onslaught from the trees considerably, but not completely, and Joey knew another wave wouldn't come until the relentless rain slowed down.
When Joey spotted Chandler lying broken and bleeding at the bottom of the trench his heart stopped. The hole had been built for drainage and the rapidly draining sky was quickly filling it up with a murky flash flood.
Instinctively he knew the only way Chandler, or any of the men, were eventually going to get immediate help from the medical personnel would be out in the open field, not in a trench. They had to be seen to be heard.
And Chandler had to be seen. Joey didn't hesitate to move him, but he couldn't look at his foot - now contorted at a grotesque angle, and he really wished his hand wasn't currently buried in Chandler's blood.
The Viet Cong seemed to have fallen back and become deceptively quiet in the downpour. Retreating? Regrouping? It was impossible to tell, but Joey had a window and he was going to take it. He called out to a couple of the uninjured men in his unit and ordered them to help move the injured men out of the trench. Though stunned and shaken they jumped into action.
Joey finally scrambled to the top of the trench, then putting his other arm under Chandler's knees he hoisted himself into a hunched position. Chandler almost rhythmically cried out in pain as Joey started jogging as fast as he could toward the clearing on the far end of the airstrip, as far from the trees as he could get.
Chandler's head lolled to the side, his whole broken body screaming from being jostled around in Joey's arms. His eyes were blurry slits and he couldn't focus on any one thing as he drifted in and out of consciousness.
He could hear someone yelling. Joey. Joey was yelling. Joey was screaming, why was he screaming right in his ear? Didn't he know his head hurt so bad, so bad. He wanted Joey to stop yelling. Just stop!
But instead of anything stopping, Chandler started flying. He was taking off in the air one minute, bounced like a pinball against something or someone in the next and then landed, flat on his back, in the middle of a pool of muddy water.
He couldn't hear Joey yelling anymore. All he could hear were indistinguishable noises around him, and the thunderous pounding of his own heart, before it all started to faded away from him once again.
###
Monica rolled her head to the left, her blurry vision soaking in only the bright light above her. She blinked a couple times as the stark white uniforms worn by two women she didn't know slowly came into focus.
One of the women came closer to her and smiled gently.
"Miss Geller?" she said softly, taking her hand. "Miss Geller, my name is Mona. Do you know where you are?"
Monica stared at the red cross on the woman's nurses hat and her eyes grew wide. She reached for her stomach.
"It's OK, dear," Mona said, as another nurse came to her side. "Your baby is fine."
"Why am I here?" Monica said in a loud, hoarse whisper. "What's happening?"
The second nurse stepped forward.
"You are severely dehydrated," she said with a hint of disgust in her voice. "You clearly haven't been taking in enough fluid. Haven't you been taking care of yourself?"
"I…yes," Monica said, meekly, still trying to understand what was going on. Where were Rachel and Phoebe?
The nurse snorted and Mona shot her a disgusted look.
"No husband in the picture, I presume?" she said, judgment in her voice as she adjusted the sheets around Monica as Mona switched out her IV bag.
"Gladys!" Mona scolded.
"He's in Vietnam," Monica said, feeling stronger and not at all caring for the nurse's attitude. "The baby's father was dr…drafted into the Army."
"I see," Gladys said, pursing her lips together and shifting her gaze. Monica could have sworn she heard her mumble "another baby-killer bastard" under her breath and anger sprang to her eyes.
"Our patient is awake, Gladys," Mona said, crossing her arms and glaring at her colleague. "Will you please go inquire after Dr. Goldman? He wanted to assess Miss Geller's condition as soon as she woke up."
With that Gladys turned on her heels and left the room.
Mona picked up a blood pressure cuff and started to put it on Monica's arm.
"I feel better, much better," Monica said, putting her arm above her head and away from the nurse. Mona smiled softly as she lowered Monica's arm and put on the cuff. Monica nervously licked her lips.
"That's because of the fluid," the nurse said as she put on the cuff and started to tighten it around her arm. Mona's expression didn't reveal anything as she took the reading and wrote it down in her chart.
"H…how is it?" Monica asked, her voice shaky.
Mona gave her a downward frown.
"The doctor will be right in," she said just as Phoebe and Rachel walked in the door.
"Monica!" Rachel said, rushing to her bedside, Phoebe right behind her. "You're awake - oh, thank God!"
Monica narrowed her eyes at them both.
"Why am I here?" she asked, searching their faces with a sad and confused expression on her face.
"We couldn't wake you up," Phoebe said somewhat sternly. "What were we supposed to do?"
"I would've, would've…" Monica started.
"No, you wouldn't have," Rachel said, taking her hand. "You need to be here."
"Miss Geller?" said Dr. Goldman interrupted as he walked into the room, clipboard in hand.
"Yes," Monica said weakly, her scared eyes still on her friends, who began to back up toward the door to make room for the doctor.
"I'm Dr. Goldman," he said, introducing himself. "You gave your friends quite a scare."
Monica just closed her eyes and nodded once.
Dr. Goldman then examined her pregnant belly, measuring it with a tape measure, and then checked to see if she was at all dilated. He looked in her eyes and listened to her heart, then he picked up the chart he placed at the end of her bed. Mona, who was standing close by, looked at him expectantly.
"It says you're almost at 34 weeks," the doctor said, furrowing his brow. "You're measuring at 32…small. BP is 168 over 119…"
Monica's eyes grew wide. The baby was small? What did that mean?
"He's…he's too small to be born now, then, right?" Monica said, as if the thought of her baby being born anytime soon was completely absurd. "We need more time. He needs more time…"
Dr. Goldman glanced at his patient as she trailed off, her eyes pleading with him. She was young, scared, and completely exhausted - and had no idea how sick she was. He was surprised she hadn't started seizing already. He shook his head and looked to the nurse, nodding to the other side of the room. He knew if this baby wasn't born today, this mother was in serious trouble.
"Give us a minute," Mona said as she patted Monica's arm, trying to be reassuring as she walked away.
"I'm fine," Monica said quickly, desperately, her eyes darting to Phoebe and Rachel standing just outside the door. She watched as the rude nurse reentered the room and joined the conversation - a conversation that would change the course of her life, their lives, yet didn't involve her in the slightest.
Monica placed both hands on her stomach and started to panic in earnest.
"He's…he's fine," she said as loudly as possible, trying to get the attention of anyone she could, her heart sinking and her strength beginning to ebb.
"Can we go home?" she whispered, tears filling her eyes. "Please?"
###
Shock. Chandler's body had started to go into shock, and somehow that startled him into an uneasy consciousness. He didn't know where he was or what he was doing, but he felt like he was drowning...because it was raining.
Rain.
He was vaguely aware that it was raining, pouring in fact.
Wave after wave of water fell off the trees above him, crashing down onto him in a relentless onslaught. He tried to open his eyes, actually he believed his eyes were open but he couldn't see anything. As he lay flat on his back in a pool of mud and puddles of slime all he could do was feel. He could feel pain, a sharp, searing pain radiating throughout the top of his body. The pain seemed to be coming straight from his heart.
Chandler used all the strength he had left to raise his right hand, weakly attempting to swat at the rain. His stark white face was fixed in a pinched grimace. Giving up on making the rain go away, he tried to roll over from his back, trying to push himself up with his right hand. But he couldn't find the ground under him and soon, with a sound somewhere between a sob and a primal moan, he gave up and let his hand slide back to the ground with a gentle thud.
Between the rain and the pain he couldn't breathe. Taking a deep breath was impossible. Small, shallow breaths were all he could muster. He was waiting for the darkness to come, almost welcoming the numbness ahead. Almost.
Then he remembered that he had legs. If only his legs…
"Move," he whispered weakly to no one, willing his body to do anything, anything he asked it to do. "Move…"
In that lucid moment he realized the agony he was feeling from his chest up seemed to stop at his waist. He couldn't feel his legs. The numbness had started to creep up his body.
And an overwhelming feeling of sadness and loss he had never once associated with this moment in his life crushed against him and his tears started to mix with the downpour as both rolled down the sides of his face.
As he lay there for several minutes, body and soul broken, the rain started to let up, though Chandler didn't realize it. What thoughts he could piece together all swirled around Monica - knowing deep down that he'd never see her again. He yelled out more from emotional wreckage than physical pain, and yet the darkness still stubbornly refused to come.
Suddenly a wave of strength washed through him and he forced his eyes open a crack. He could see trees, and sun through the rain, and felt a swift, strong wind that seemed to drown out all other noise. The numbness started to seep into this chest as he raised his right hand again and slowly, clumsily fumbled with the drenched pocket of his shirt. After several attempts he pulled out the soaked contents inside with shaking fingers.
Chandler tried to focus on the faded photo, but his eyes wouldn't cooperate and the small amount of strength he had seemed to run away as quickly as it had come.
His hand dropped with the picture against his chest and his eyes fell closed once again as his body finally began to shut out the pain.
###
All she could clearly make out was the word "die."
She watched through a haze all the flurry of activity around her. She was there, but she wasn't there at the same time. Doctors, nurses, all of them running around, not listening to her. Not letting her tell them what needed to happen. They weren't listening.
The nurse, the one who had been so kind, moved in front of her and took her hand and gave her a gentle, sad smile. Monica began to panic in earnest.
"What?!" she demanded, her blue eyes wide and watery, and her heart pounding so hard and loud in her ears she was certain everyone could hear it.
"It's time," Mona said quietly.
"No!" Monica yelled, trying to jerk her hand away, but the nurse held firm. "No, it's not time!"
"Miss Geller…"
"No!" she whispered fiercely, now gripping the nurses hands in both of hers, squeezing her fingers so tight her knuckles turned white. "It can't be…not now!"
The other nurse came over, the one who had been so rude before. She had a syringe in her hand. She was waiting for the first nurse to give her the order.
"Should we sedate her?" she asked in a cold, matter-of-fact voice.
"Wait, Gladys," the first nurse said, somewhat exasperated at her colleague, but her gaze never left Monica's.
"Miss Geller," she said, her heart breaking for the young woman before her. "I know this is…difficult…but..."
"You don't understand," Monica said desperately, searching the woman's eyes with a crazed look on her face. "He needs me…I…I need him…"
Gladys took another step toward Monica before Mona put up her hand in a "stop" gesture to halt her, and then she motioned to the side of the room.
Through her tears Monica could see Rachel and Phoebe come into view, tears streaming down each of their faces. She vaguely thought she caught a glimpse of her mother, too, but knew at that point she must have been hallucinating.
"Monica…Monica," Rachel whispered softly as she took her hand and the nurse stepped back a moment.
"Don't let them do it," Monica begged, imploring first Rachel, then Phoebe. "Don't let them take him away from me…"
"Mon," Phoebe choked out, stroking her hair. "He…he wouldn't want…it…this way. We have to let the doctors…do what's best…"
Rachel nodded and cried harder as Monica's fingers clamped down on hers.
Monica started to tremble as she looked at her best friends, her last rays of hope…and the betrayal and despair she felt ran deep.
"How could you…" she said miserably, looking right at Phoebe, her breathing deep and ragged. With enormous strength she grabbed at Rachel's hand and jerked her until they were face to face, causing Rachel to gasp in pain.
"How could you?!" she growled at her, sweat beading around her temples now.
"Mon," Rachel said sternly, tears spilling unchecked down her cheeks, trying to disengage her hand from Monica's. "I'm sorry…I'm so sorry. Mon…"
Monica's nails scrapped against her hand as Rachel made one more attempt to pull away.
"Let go," she said a little more forcefully. "Monica, you have to let go…"
Rachel snatched her hand away and started massaging it, both she and Phoebe sobbing now.
"I won't let you do it," Monica said, trying to move away from them. "I won't! I swear to God I won't!"
"Gladys," Mona said, quickly coming to Monica's side and grabbing her arm, struggling to hold her still.
"Now!"
NOTE: "For What It's Worth," Buffalo Springfield, 1966. This song may not be perfect for this chapter, but IMO it had to be used at this moment in this story.
I know you've all read the last half of this chapter multiple times, so your reward for reading it again is a quicker update. :) Honestly, the next chapter shouldn't take too long.
Wanted to answer a couple questions - yes, I did cheat and use a song "from the future" in the last chapter. There are a lot of connotations associated with "Let It Be" but, I'm Catholic, so for me there was only one meaning - "Mother Mary, come to me" indeed.
Also, the image that brought this story to life was the Grand Central Station chapter - way back, what, a hundred years ago? Feels like it to me! Gotta say, I'm actually curious to see how this all reads in one sitting. That day is coming- sooner rather than later! I promise!
Thanks so much for all your reviews. I'm seriously overwhelmed…