Without You (part 2)

Without You (part 2)

"Chandler has, as we feared sustained a serious amount of brain damage," Dr Sullivan said. Phoebe noticed that he had used 'Chandler' instead of 'Mr Bing', which she thought was a bad sign. Monica buried her face in her hands. "In fact he is brain stem dead."

"No!" Monica screamed. He couldn't be. Not Chandler. He couldn't be brain damaged. He couldn't. She needed him too much for him to be practically dead. Rachel hugged her, but Monica shook herself free. "I want to see him," she demanded. The doctor nodded calmly.

"Of course. I'll take you through straight away," Dr Sullivan said. Monica nodded and followed him into Chandler's room. Dr Sullivan nodded to the nurse who was adjusting one of the machines, and she left the room. The doctor went out behind her.

Monica went and sat down next to Chandler, holding his hand in both of hers. She leaned her head on his hand and waited for the tears to fall, but they didn't, they stayed burning her eyes. The pain she felt was too much for tears, just as it was too great for words.

"Chandler, I know you probably can't hear me, or understand what I'm saying, but I'm sorry that you're lying here like this. I would give anything in the world to be the one that got hit in the accident. Except I would never want to put you through what I'm going through right now. I wish you didn't have to be here. And I hate that the only thing keeping you alive is a bunch of machines. I don't want you to be dead in every way except that you're still breathing. Even though it's so, so hard for me to let you go. You should be dead Chandler. And that doesn't mean I want you to be dead, because you know that's not true, it's just that by rights, you should be dead. You'd be better off dead, instead of in limbo like this. And I don't know if you hung onto life so I wouldn't be alone, or if it was just all a cruel twist of fate. But I refuse to let you cling on any longer, Chandler," Monica said quietly.

She lifted Chandler's hand and stroked it gently. She fingered the needle of the drip and wondered exactly what would happen if she pulled it out.

"I'm sorry Chandler. You may never forgive me for doing this, and I know I will never forgive myself, but, I dunno, right now it just seems like the only thing I can do. Keeping you like this isn't fair on either of us. But I just want you to know that the only reason I'm doing this is because I love you so much, and I can't stand seeing you like this, and knowing there's no future. I love you Chandler, I'll miss you every day for the rest of my life. Goodbye honey," she said, blinking to hold back the tears that threatened to fall at any minute. She pulled out the drip.

Nothing happened except a light went on on one of the machines. Monica wondered briefly if dying hurt if you were brain stem dead already.

"Its okay sweetie, I'm here," she whispered, "I love you." Monica wanted it to be over quickly, for everyone's sake. And also she was a little afraid that the light would somehow send a message to the nurses' station that something was wrong. She kissed him softly on the lips, then reached over and turned of the life support machine. Immediately, a number of alarms went off, but she ignored them, and laid her head on his chest. He was still breathing, but only just, and it seemed to be costing him a lot of effort. She finally gave in to the tears and sobbed into his chest as it struggled to rise and fall.

Then he breathed one final breath. Monica waited for him to breathe in again, but he didn't. She lifted her head from his chest and studied his face closely. Despite all the bruises and tubes that were still attached to him, Chandler looked peaceful. She kissed his lips, then his forehead, then buried her face in his chest again and cried.

A team of doctors and nurses came in to see what was happening. When they saw Chandler was dead, and Monica lying hysterical on his chest, and the life support machine turned off, they guessed almost instantly what Monica had done. But they didn't challenge her about it, then or later.

Monica was allowed to stay with Chandler for a long while. She cried the whole time, and occasionally whispered to Chandler that she was sorry, and that she loved him.

A nurse came and told the others that chandler was dead, but hadn't mentioned that it looked like Monica had switched the life support machine off herself. The staff didn't want the others to think it was Monica's fault, or that she had done something unforgivable, when they supposed she must have had her reasons.

Monica was still there when Joey came in to see Chandler. He wanted to be alone with him to say goodbye, but he didn't want to ask Monica to leave. He stood awkwardly behind her for a few moments, then gently placed his hands on her back. She slowly raised her head and looked up at him.

"Sorry Joey, did you want to see Chandler?" she asked tearfully. He nodded gratefully.

"Thanks," he said.

"Goodbye sweetie," she whispered, dropping a light kiss on his forehead.

"Ross and the others are waiting for you," Joey told her. Monica nodded and left. "So Chandler," he began. Earlier on he'd had so much that he wanted to say to him, but now he couldn't remember any of it. He eventually just told Chandler that he would miss him, and that he'd never had a better roommate or a better friend. The others all went in one at a time to say goodbye as well, but none of them really knew what to say. Phoebe sang him a song about a lost button, which she claimed was a metaphor, because she hadn't had time to come up with a whole new song.

Again, once the others had said what they had to say to Chandler, Monica went back in. she didn't say anything this time, she just hugged him, desperately clinging to the hope that it was all a bad dream, that she would wake up, perhaps screaming or in tears, but Chandler would be there and he would comfort her and when she told him what she had been dreaming, he would laugh and tell her not to be so silly; he would never leave her. But she knew it wasn't a dream. She knew this was harsh reality where anyone, even her beloved Chandler, could die.

But although it was hard to accept that he was dead, the hardest part was knowing that it was her fault. She had believed at the time that she was acting for the best, but now that is was over, she wasn't so sure, after all, who had the right to decide who got to live and who had to die? Not the doctors and nurses with all their years of training. Not his wife, who loved him more than anything else in the world. She planned never to tell her friends what she had done. They wouldn't understand why she'd felt she had to do it. They would think she was being stupid and she shouldn't have just given up hope like that.

"But you understand, right sweetie?" she asked him. "You don't hate me, do you?" She realised she was talking to him as if she expected him to answer her, so she stopped talking and just held him instead. She hated the way he felt, stiff and lifeless, but she needed him so much that she couldn't not touch him.

She lost track of how long she stayed there with Chandler, but right then, time didn't seem to matter, just as it no longer mattered to Chandler, wherever he was. Monica had never really known what she believed happened to you when you died, but she now thought she liked the idea that Chandler was still around, as a spirit, or a guardian angel, or whatever. But she couldn't bear the thought of being without him forever.

Eventually, Monica dragged herself away and went back to her surviving friends. Ross hugged her and she leaned tiredly against his chest.

"I want to go home," she said like a child.

"Of course," Ross said soothingly. "But are you sure you want to go back to your apartment, with so many memories of Chandler?" Ross asked gently.

"That's why I want to go back there," was all Monica would say.

"Do you want us to stay with you?" Rachel asked when they got to Chandler and Monica's apartment.

"No thanks, I'll be okay," she said, trying to put on a brave face. None of them were fooled, but they could tell she didn't really want them around. Phoebe was absent-mindedly humming a song, but she paused to hug Monica tightly. Joey was the only one who didn't make a move to leave. He wanted to be with Monica, not only because he thought she needed someone with her, but also because he needed to be with someone himself.

"Call me if you change your mind," Rachel offered. "Joey, you coming?" she asked, turning to him. He shook his head slowly.

"No, I think I'll stay here a while, if that's okay with you Mon," he said.

"Sure," Monica shrugged. She was torn between wanting to be alone, and wanting someone to comfort her, as if she was a small child again.

Once Monica and Joey were alone, he crossed the room and sat next to her on the couch. They sat in silence for a few minutes, until Joey slid an arm around her.

"You gonna be okay?" he asked gently.

"No," Monica said shortly. She bit her lip and tried hard not to cry. She felt guilty every time she cried; since it was all her fault he was dead.

"Well I feel awful, I know it must be like a hundred times worse for you. But it will get better. Over time the pain will ease," he promised. Monica smiled; it sounded like Joey had been watching a little too much daytime TV.

"How did you get so sympathetic all of a sudden?" Monica asked. He shrugged.

"Still a little of doctor Drake Ramoray I guess," he admitted, "You know you can talk to me any time, don't you?" Monica nodded, but didn't offer any of her feelings up. They sat quietly for a little while longer. Joey felt a lump forming in his throat, and he didn't want Monica to see him cry, in case she felt like she should be crying, since she was Chandler's wife, widow now, and if he (Joey) started crying, she might feel bad.

"Look Joey, I'm sorry. I appreciate you being here, really I do, but I just want to go to bed and try and forget about all this," Monica told him eventually.

"Sure, sure, I'll go back across the hall," he said. Monica smiled apologetically.

"Thanks. We can talk in the morning if you want," she offered hesitantly.

"Great. 'Night Mon," Joey said as he backed casually out of the door.

"'Night Joey," she responded dully. She had just realised that she would have to go to bed, in the room she had shared with Chandler every night for a year and a half and most night for a year before that. And even for the eight years or so before Chandler moved in, she'd always had Phoebe or Rachel in the next room. Now she was truly on her own. She walked into the bedroom and crumpled onto the bed, still wearing her clothes. But she hated being alone. She couldn't believe that just twenty-four hours earlier, Chandler had been in bed with her. And then he'd got up to make her breakfast in bed, and now he was dead. She closed her eyes and immediately saw Chandler's pale face as she killed him. Because no matter how good her intentions had been, that's what she had done. She had killed him. She had murdered her husband. She screamed and ran out of the bedroom. Monica flung herself on the couch and buried her face in a cushion and sobbed once more.

She didn't sleep at all that night. She just sat on the window seat for most of the night and stared blankly out at the New York City nighttime skyline. Her tears dried on her cheeks and she made no attempt sort out her make-up, which had been ruined, after she spent most of the day and night crying. Monica felt exhausted, mentally and physically. She wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed, even though Chandler wasn't there to hold her safe in his arms. But she didn't dare close her eyes.

In the morning Ross, Rachel and Phoebe stayed away at first, afraid that Monica might be too upset to want to see them. Joey stayed away as well, but for slightly more complex reasons. He knew Monica wouldn't turn them away, but she wouldn't want them all there right away. But he also hated being in the apartment without Chandler there. It just wasn't the same.

Monica moped around the apartment all day. She wanted to go see Chandler again, but she wasn't sure if she'd be allowed. And besides, there was nothing she could do or say that would make everything okay again. She started to tidy up the apartment, then realised that to do so would be moving on, changing things, acepting Chandler's death, and she couldn't face doing that just yet. She went into the bedroom, where she sat for over and hour, not doing anything, or even thinking anything. She just stared into space.

The room reminded her so much of Chandler, and what it was like to hold him and kiss him, and just to be with him. She had never really understood just how big a part of her life he was. They had been a couple for two and a half years, friends for eight years, and had known each other long before that. But ever since London he had taken up such a big part of her heart that he had sort of become a part of her. She felt incomplete without him, and kept hearing sounds that made her look up expectantly, waiting for him to walk in. but he never did.

Two days after Chandler's death, Joey ventured over to make sure Monica was all right. No one had seen or heard from her in two days, which was understandable considering that she had just lost her husband. But what Joey couldn't understand was why she was shutting them out. He supposed she just needed time to be alone, but he wished there was something more he could do to help her.

"Hey Joey," Monica greeted him when he cautiously opened the front door.

"Hey, um, are you okay?" he asked, taking in a view of the apartment. Most people wouldn't have called it messy, perhaps 'lived in', but not messy. But Joey knew that by Monica's usual standards, it was a tip. He cursed himself for even thinking that Monica would care. Sure, she was a neat freak, but even she would put Chandler's death before cleaning her apartment.

"Define okay," she challenged him wearily.

"Right now, I'd say 'okay' is anything better than suicidal," Joey joked weakly. Monica didn't even crack a smile.

"Then I'm okay, but by normal standards, I'm definitely not," Monica said. Joey hugged her.

"I know," he said.

"I just miss him so much Joey. I can't sleep because I know he won't be there when I wake up. I can't clean up because I don't want to change anything. I can't even cry, because its all my fault!" she said angrily.

"Don't be silly Mon. it's not your fault," he comforted her.

"You don't understand Joey. Its all my fault!" Monica insisted. She wanted to cry, but managed to stop herself.

"How the hell is it your fault?" he demanded, impatient, even though he knew he should be more sympathetic. Monica froze. She couldn't tell Joey what she had done, she couldn't. Chandler was Joey's best friend. He would never forgive her. Quickly she came up with a different reason of why it was her fault.

"He wouldn't have even been out if it wasn't for me. He was going to buy some things to make me breakfast in be," Monica said. That was true, but she knew the accident could have happened anytime.

"Mon, that is the stupidest thing I've ever heard in my life! How does that mean it's your fault? Monica, it was an accident, a horrible, unfair thing to happen, but it was just an accident," Joey exploded.

"Joey, I'm sorry okay. But please could you just leave me alone?" Moncia asked, biting her lip to stop herself saying something she'd regret.

"Yeah, maybe I should," Joey agreed coldly. He didn't want to get mad at her, but he couldn't help it when she was being stupid and irrational like this. Joey knew Monica was upset, but that didn't give her a right to be completely self absorbed. He was grieving too. He stormed out of the door, furious with himself and with Monica.

"Joey, I'm sorry," Monica shouted after himn, but he ignored her and just slammed the door behind her.

Joey must have told the others about Monica's behavior, because none of them came round that day, or the next, or the next. It was three days later, when chandler had been dead for five days, before Phoebe made up her mind to visit Monica. It was chandler's funeral tomorrow, and Phoebe thought Monica could use some support from her friends.

Monica was a mess when Phoebe arrived. Her hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail, she wore no make-up, and her clothes were crumpled. There were dark shadows under her eyes, which had a dead look in them. The apartment had progressed to the universal definition of messy. But there were no plates in the sink, or any sign of food. Phoebe supposed that even at her messiest, Monica didn't want to attract cockroaches.

"Oh Mon," Phoebe said softly and hugged her friend tightly. Monica's skinny body was limp in her arms, and Phoebe was sure she'd lost weight. She led her to the couch, where they both sat down. "Wow, this is worse than when you broke up with Richard," Phoebe observed.

"Yeah, well, I chose to break up with Richard. I would never have chosen for this to happen," Monica said, but felt a twinge of guilt, because although the accident itself hadn't been her fault, she had made the end a lot quicker, so in a way, it was her fault.

"Yeah, I guess its stupid to compare the two. Its just I haven't seen you unhappy since you broke up with Richard. I suppose because Chandler made you so happy," Phoebe said, then immediately regretted it, because Monica suddenly looked even more depressed. "Sorry," Phoebe said quickly.

"Its okay, you're right," Monica said, but didn't offer any of how she was feeling. Over the last few days, she had felt like she was alienated, in a way, from the rest of her friends. Keeping such a huge thing a secret from them didn't help matters much, because she knew they would never forgive her if they knew, but that didn't stop her constantly longing to tell them, to tell anyone. She was already sick of keeping it locked away inside her, and she couldn't imagine how she was going to be able to keep it a secret for the rest of her life.

Chandler's funeral had all been organised by his Mom. Nora had seen as soon as she flew in from London, where she had been promoting her latest book, that Monica was in no way up to doing anything, so she had completely taken over. Ross was especially surprised that Monica had allowed this, but he didn't dare bring it up with her. But right now, none of that mattered. It was Chandler's funeral, the only purpose of the day was to say goodbye to their friend.

Rachel had an arm around Monica in the car on the way to the church. Ross sat on Monica's other side in silent support. Phoebe and Joey were up front. Phoebe was driving. Joey had his eyes closed all the way. He didn't want to cry in front of the others. He wanted to be strong. But it was so hard.

The service Nora had arranged was a quiet and simple one for family and close friends only. Chandler's dad had refrained from bringing any of his gay friends, at Nora's request. She herself had left her current toy boy back in England. A few of Chandler's friends were invited, but most of them weren't, because Chandler hadn't known the, very well, but they had all sent their condolences and best wishes to Chandler's family.

"Mon, you okay?" ross asked her in a whisper as they went into the church. Monica just gave him a look that said 'how can I be okay?', and Ross nodded and gave her arm a quick squeeze.

"Come on Monica, we have to speak to the minister before the ceremony," Nora said, taking her arm. Monica blindly followed Nora away. She felt her friend's eyes on her, watching her every move carefully, as if they were afraid she might break, but couldn't be bothered to turn around and give them a quick smile of reassurance. she too a deep breath. She didn't feel up to this. She wasn't ready to say goodbye for the last time. Monica hated to admit it, but for almost the first time in her life, she felt completely out of control, and she hated it, especially being the control freak she normally was.

They filed into the church in silence and sat down. Phoebe was at the end, then joey, then Monica, then ross, then rachel. The minister began to speak about how sad it is when someone as young as Chandler was called back to be at God's side, but Monica hardly heard him. There were tears streaming down her face, and her whole body shook as she sobbed as quietly as she could. Joey tried to hug her, but for some reason, that pushed her over the edge. She shook off Joey's comforting touch and stood up. She pushed past ross and rachel and ran out of the church. The minister looked up as she left, and shot a questioning glance at nora, who nodded that he should continue. No-one followed Monica outside. They figured she wanted to be alone, but they also wanted to say goodbye to Chandler properly.

Moncia tripped on the steps leading out of the church and fell in a heap at the bottom. She wasn't hurt, but she just sat there, unable to move, crying hysterically, until she head people starting to come back out. She didn't want to have to face everyone yet, so she got up and ran off again. She went round to the side of the church. Everyone else must have gone round the other side on the footpath to the graveyard, because she didn't see any of them.

When she was sure they were all watching the burial, Monica crept around to the corner, so she could watch them bury her husband. Her tears were silent now, and she made a weak attempt to wipe them away. Most of the people at the funeral were crying, but she believed none of them felt as bad as she did. She actually felt a physical pain every time she remembered that she would never have Chandler to hold in her arms ever again. And that pain turned into torture whenever she reminded herself that it was all her fault. She could have chosen to let him live on as a 'vegetable' for years, but she knew deep down, as she had known then, that this was best for Chandler. He would have wanted this, even though he would never have told her, he would have made sure she kept hoping, but she knew that what he would really have wanted but not said, was to make it quick. He had often said she could read his mind, and in a way he was right. She had known what he would have wanted, and she had made sure he got what he wanted, however much suffering it had caused her. Chandler wouldn't hate her. that's what she kept telling herself over and over again, that he wouldn't hate her, he would forgive her. it was the only thing that kept her going at night, when she couldn't sleep and in the daytime, when her friends ignored her. she was lonely now, but she had no way to know how much they'd hate her and how much worse she would feel if they ever found out what she had done.

To be continued…