Okay... this is just an idea I got over the weekend while watching "My Life" (a movie with Michael Keaton and Nicole Kidman). I thought it would make a good fanfic idea for "Friends." And, as always, no copyright infringement is intended in either case. Despite many hours of reading other people's fanfics, this is my first attempt, so feedback is both welcomed and appreciated! (RedDaisy28@aol.com) Let me know! Thanks!
Always and Forever
PROLOGUE
"Cancer?" Chandler choked out the word, not believing what he was hearing. "What... how..." his voice trailed off as he tried to grasp onto any words that came out of the doctor's mouth. The doctor nodded apologetically.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Bing," he said woefully. Chandler felt Monica's small hand tighten her grasp on his own as she spoke. "What do you mean you're sorry? There are treatments, right? I mean, people beat cancer all the time."
"Yes, Mrs. Bing, they do. In your husband's case, however, the tumor is far to intrusive to operate on. Brain tumors are the trickiest, being that they can only get so large before treatment becomes impossible. That, unfortunately, is what we have here. The growth went undetected for too long. I'm sorry, but there's nothing we can do."
In that moment, Monica lost all self-control. "YOU'RE sorry? You son of a bitch, don't tell me there's nothing you can do! You're a DOCTOR! It's your JOB to cure people!" She felt Chandler's strong arms grab hold of her, and she collapsed into his embrace, sobbing. As he absently rubbed her back, he focused once again on the oncologist before him.
"How long?" he asked, terrified of the answer. The doctor hesitated.
"It's difficult to say. Because it went unnoticed for quite some time, we are unsure of the rate at which it is growing. I hesitate to hazard a guess, but if I did, it would probably be in the neighborhood of three months. Could be more, could be less. I'm sorry," he repeated. Chandler nodded, numb to what he was hearing. Three months. Maybe less.
"So..." his voice caught, and he swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat. "So you're saying that... that I might never get to see my child?" The look in the doctor's eyes answered his question, and Chandler averted his gaze quickly. "I see." He hugged Monica tighter as he heard her cry out again. "Shh..." he whispered into her ear, trying to comfort himself as well as his wife.
Little was said in the car on the way back to the apartment. The car, a Ford Explorer, had been Chandler's gift to Monica when she'd told him that she was pregnant only four months earlier. He'd bought it and put a car seat in the back, telling her that it had "room enough to fit a family." The way things are going, I could have gotten her a sports car, he thought bitterly. There will only be two people to seat, anyway. He concentrated on the road ahead, knuckles turning white as he gripped the wheel and tried to blink back the stinging in his eyes that he knew signaled the onset of tears. Stopping at a red light, he heard Monica sniffle and turned to look at her. She was facing away from him with one hand placed protectively on her stomach and the other wiping her face. "Mon?" No answer. "Sweetheart?" He reached out and took hold of the hand that guarded her bump. She turned to face him, eyes red and watering. She knew she should be the one comforting him, but she couldn't find the strength to console him when her world had just been destroyed. How had pure happiness turned so suddenly into pure grief?
Once they got back to the apartment, Chandler wrapped his arms around Monica and hugged her fiercely, trying to erase or at least minimize the intensity of the thoughts and fears that had been occupying his mind for the last hour. He buried his face in her neck and breathed in the scent that had become so familiar and comforting in the past three years. He felt her arms wrap around him and her hands rub his back as he held onto her tightly. "I'm sorry," he whispered when he realized what was going to happen. Monica broke away suddenly and stared at him.
"Sorry?" she repeated, confused.
"Yeah. I'm sorry that I..." he took a deep breath and tried to steady his shaking voice. "I'm sorry that I might not make it... make it to the birth of our baby." When he reached the end of his sentence, he reached out and placed a hand on Monica's stomach as his eyes once again filled with tears. At that moment, Monica broke down as well.
"Oh, sweetheart," she said, stroking his face. She leaned in and kissed his forehead, eyes, nose, and cheeks. He looked up at her, the pain evident in his eyes.
As he gazed at the love of his life, his wife and best friend, the world seemed to swirl around him, a haze of confusion, disbelief, and helplessness. How could it be? How could he die before he even got to see his child? How was it that he, someone who had been so terrified of love and commitment, had found that commitment to Monica was what he lived for? And how was it, then, that it was all going to be taken from him so soon?
"Cancer?" Joey asked in disbelief. Chandler almost smirked at the irony of that, remembering that it was the exact way in which he had reacted when he was told. The six friends were in Chandler and Monica's den: Rachel, Joey, and Phoebe on the couch, Ross in the chair, and Chandler and Monica standing before them holding hands. "What do you mean?" Chandler took a deep breath as he looked around at his friends. Family, he corrected himself. These people weren't just his friends. Friends were people who you saw a couple times a week and went out for lunch with every so often. These people had been there for him in one way or another for almost as long as he could remember. They were family, in every sense of the word.
"I have a brain tumor," Chandler explained simply
"So, what are you going to do?" Rachel inquired.
"Die," he answered bluntly. He felt instantly bad when they all gasped and Monica's grasp tightened. He tried to make it seem less frank and added, "It's too big to treat." He looked around not at all surprised when the four others couldn't think of anything to say. He simply nodded and took a seat on the floor, pulling Monica into his lap. He placed his hand on her belly, as he had become so accustomed to doing, and rested his head on her shoulder.
Once the group had gotten over the initial shock, they tried to get back into something that at least vaguely resembled a normal lifestyle. Monica wasn't working, as she had decided to take a long maternity leave, and Chandler had tried to continue but eventually quit, seeing no point to carrying on. The others felt guilty about returning to something to seemingly trivial as work, but both Chandler and Monica assured them that there was no use in all of them losing jobs and destroying their lives. As time wore on, Chandler became more and more subdued, alienating himself from his friends as well as his wife and unborn child. He would sometimes disappear for hours and then turn up in the same defeated and unresponsive frame of mind that had seemed to consume him since the visit to the doctor. Monica tried to get through to him, but he was unresponsive to anything and almost everything that seemed to go on around him. She was too afraid to talk much about the baby, and felt almost guilty for being pregnant. How fair was it for her to be excited about becoming a mother when the father of her baby, her husband, and best friend, was probably going to die before he even got to see his child? She could feel it all welling up inside her, but she was afraid to say anything for fear of driving him further away. She wanted so badly to cherish the time she had left with him, but she couldn't see a way of doing so while he was living like a robot.
One night, while Monica was washing dishes and Chandler was reading a magazine at the kitchen counter, she felt a kick in her stomach. With all the stress and the emotional ups and downs of the past few weeks, she had forgotten to expect the baby to kick. She froze and waited, hoping that she would feel it again. She wanted to experience something happy, instead of continuing in the same bleak manner that had occupied their lives recently. She held her breath. There it was again. She put down the plate she had been drying and turned to Chandler, who was still immersed in his magazine. "Chandler," she whispered. He didn't answer. "Chandler," she said a little bit louder. He turned to face her. "The baby kicked," she said, uneasy about bringing it up. It had been awhile since they'd said much about the baby, almost as if it were a taboo subject. He jumped up from the table and moved so he was next to her.
"Really?" Monica almost smiled when she saw a glimmer of the spark in his eye that she had missed so badly. He reached out and placed his hand on her stomach and waited. After a few moments, he felt it. A thump. "Whoa," he breathed, drawing his hand back. He looked into Monica's eyes, where he saw a happiness so obvious that it brought him crashing back to reality. That might be the closest he ever came to touching his child. He withdrew his hand roughly and averted his gaze. "Cool," he said nonchalantly, trying not to let her see the sorrow that had engulfed him once again. Monica's hopes fell as she watched him turn his back on her.
"Don't," she choked out, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. He turned to face her with a look in his eyes that was almost challenging. Almost as though he were daring her to be angry with him. "Don't, Chandler. Please. Don't turn your back on me. Not now. Not when I need you so badly. I need to share this with you. I need you to be there, I need to feel the love that used to make me feel so safe. Please don't make me do this alone. Part of what makes this baby so special is that it's yours. It exists because you love me, because I love you. Please, don't turn your back on it now."
"I am 'being there,' okay? I'm being there the best way I know how! I am trying to figure out insurance issues and trying to settle things so that you won't have to deal with that after... I'm setting up trust funds and getting all the finances squared away, okay? I'm doing the best I can, Monica!"
"DAMMIT, Chandler, I don't need you to be there like a bank. I need you to be there as my husband! I need you to take me in your arms and promise me that it will be okay! I need you to tell me that you love me! I need to know you love our child and don't resent it, or me! You're not the only one going through this! I love you and your life more than I love my own. This is killing me as much as it's killing you... please don't shut me out! Damn you, don't turn away from me now!" With that, she picked up the plate and threw it against the door, allowing the shattering sound of china to be the emphasizing end to her speech. She broke down sobbing and made a move to run past him, not expecting him to make any move to stop her. As she passed, she felt him reach out and catch her by the waist and spin her to face him. She pounded his chest with her fists, angry at him, angry at herself, angry at the world. "You can't leave me, I need you! This isn't fair!" She fell into his arms weeping and he sunk down to the floor, rocking her back and forth and crying into her hair.
"I know, babe," he soothed, rubbing her back and ignoring the tears that he let flow freely for the first time since the day he'd found out. "I know." He wondered how he was going to get through this. How he was going to be able to be supportive of the woman he loved and the child that he ached to cradle in his arms when it was unlikely that he'd ever get the chance to do so?
The next morning, Monica rolled over and reached out to throw her arm over Chandler's shoulder. She opened her eyes when she realized he wasn't there and sat up, rubbing her eyes. Just as she was getting up to see why he'd gotten out of bed, the door opened and he entered, carrying a tray with breakfast, juice, and a flower. She smiled, almost afraid to believe that she had her Chandler back. "Morning, beautiful," he said, smiling that gorgeous smile that she had missed during the past weeks.
"Hey... what did I do to deserve this?"
"You're having my baby... WHAT A LOVELY WAY OF SAYING HOW MUCH YOU LOVE ME..." He broke out in song when he realized that he had started off with a line from an old song. Monica laughed, and enjoyed the feeling of doing so.
"You're such a goofball," she said, unable to stop smiling. "Yeah, well, that was in the contract when you married me," he answered. "You shoulda read the fine print, babe." She grinned and pulled him in for a kiss. He pulled away after a moment and gazed at her. "I love you, ya know."
"Yeah, I know. I love you too." She kissed him and hoped that she had her Chandler back for good.
Later that morning, as Monica exited the bathroom after her shower, she walked into the kitchen, wondering what it was that was consuming her husband's attention and had him hunched over and scribbling furiously. She walked up behind him and began rubbing his shoulders. He jumped, having not heard her leave the bathroom. "Oh, hey, hon. Mmmm, you smell good."
"Well thank you... I bet the inventor of scented shower gel rests happily in his grave."
"Ahh... good to see that my sarcasm is rubbing off on you," he said, kissing her as she maneuvered herself into his lap. Ignoring his comment, she turned to the writing tablet that was on the table.
"Whatcha doing?" she asked.
"Oh, this? Uhh... okay, this is... well, kind of an idea I had. If you hate it, then I won't do it. It's just kind of this thing I want to do, but if you'd rather I didn't, I won't. Just tell me..."
"Sweetheart, calm down," Mon interrupted, laughing. "What is it?"
"Okay, well... it's my baby project."
"Baby project?" she repeated.
"Yeah. Since I... uh... since I'm not going to be able to teach my son or daughter the things that a father is supposed to teach them, I figured I'd do it ahead of time. Then our kid can just use me as kind of a reference. You know, like, 'What would Dad do? See part four for full advice.'"
"So you're going to write the baby a book?"
"Not exactly."
"Not exactly?"
"No, um... being that this is the age of technology... I'm going to make a tape. You know, like a video. I want him--"
"Ahem."
"Him or her--"
"Thank you."
"--to at least know who I was, even if he or SHE never actually remembers me." He looked at her intently, worried of what she was going to say. He wondered if she'd think he was crazy, or just corny, but as she put her hand to his face, her eyes shone with tears.
"I love it," she said softly. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held onto him for dear life, dreading the day when she wouldn't be able to do it anymore.
As Monica lay on the table at her doctor's office, she gazed absently around the room. She wondered whether or not Chandler would want to know the sex of the baby. She had been nervous about asking him, concerned about triggering the sadness that he had thus far managed to put behind him. As she deliberated whether or not to find out whether it was a boy or girl, the door opened. She turned, expecting to see her doctor smiling in her efficient and professional way. Instead, surprisingly, she found herself looking at her husband who looked rather nervous and out of place. When he realized he was in the right room, his discomfort seemed to ease a bit and he smiled.
"What are you doing here?" Monica asked.
"Now is that any way to greet your husband?" he joked.
"I'm sorry. But seriously, what are you doing here?" He looked at her and his expression turned to one of seriousness.
"Being there for my wife and child," he said simply. Mon's heart melted and she held out her hand, delighted when she felt his fingers intertwine with her own. As he leaned in and gently kissed her on the forehead, the door opened again.
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Bing," the woman greeted in a friendly tone. "Ah, this must be the father I've heard so much about." She extended her hand.
"Yes, this is my husband, Chandler," Monica introduced. "Sweetheart, this is Dr. Janney." Chandler shook the outstretched hand nervously and tried to smile.
"Relax, Mr. Bing. You won't feel a thing, I promise." She smiled kindly and turned to Monica. "Shall we get this show on the road?" Monica nodded and reached for Chandler's hand again. He moved next to her and gazed at her lovingly, squeezing her hand. He shifted his gaze to Monica's stomach and watched at Dr. Janney squirted some gel onto her bump and then began with the sonogram. He looked at Monica's face to make sure she was okay, and felt reassured when she smiled up at him. He grinned back and turned once again to the monitor, wondering if he'd be able to see anything that resembled a human form. After a few moments, the doctor spoke.
"Well, Monica, things are progressing nicely. You're at twenty-three weeks and everything looks just fine." Chandler released the breath that he wasn't aware that he'd been holding. Four and a half months to go. He wondered how high the odds were that he'd make it to the end of those weeks. Shortly, the doctor spoke again. "Would you like to know the sex of the baby?" Chandler turned to Monica, wondering what she'd say. There was no doubt in his mind that he wanted to know, given that he might not get to see for himself. Monica looked back at him, fairly certain of what it was he was thinking. She half-nodded in his direction, and he smiled back. They turned and answered in unison: "Yes." Dr. Janney smiled.
"Congratulations, you're having a son." Monica's eyes filled with tears as she squeezed Chandler's hand.
"A boy, sweetheart. We're having a boy." He grinned back at her and kissed her lovingly, glad that she'd seen that he wanted to know.
"Alexander," Monica suggested.
Chandler made a face. "Patrick."
"Nah. Nicholas."
"Scott."
"Ethan."
"After your underage lover? Yeah right."
Monica laughed. "I'd forgotten about him. Tucker."
"Ugh. Justin."
"Zeus."
"Don't even joke. Bailey."
"Bailey Bing? I don't think so."
"I'm beginning to understand how I ended up with such a strange name. Hey, how about Ryan?"
"Ryan," Monica repeated. She smiled. "I like that. Simple, but good. What about a middle name?"
"Man, we have to come up with ANOTHER one?" He grinned. "Just kidding. Um... I don't know... how about you pick it, since I picked the first name?"
Monica thought for a second and looked at him evenly. "Chandler," she said, more a statement than a suggestion.
"Chandler?" he repeated. "Are you sure? I mean, I got a lot of schtick for that name over the years... are you sure you want our son to have the same name?"
"Yes," she said simply. "Chandler. Ryan Chandler Bing," she said, trying out the sound of it. "I like it."
Chandler smiled. "Me too," he said after a moment. He leaned across the couch and placed his hand on Monica's bump. "Hey, Ryan," he said softly. Monica smiled and kissed his head as he kissed her stomach.
IN MY LIFE, PART ONE: Introduction
Chandler adjusted the camera so that it was pointing directly at where he would be sitting on the couch. He grabbed the remote and hoped that the stupid thing would work. Never a genius with technological gadgets, he had little patience with such things as camcorders. He took off the lens cap and sat on the couch, cracking his knuckles nervously. He hit the "record" button on the remote and took it as a good sign when a red light came on. He faced the lens.
"Hey. I'm your Dad. Chandler Bing. That's my name, by the way. Chandler." He paused and groaned in frustration and then hit the "stop" button on the remote. "Yeah," he muttered to himself. "This is going to be how your child knows you, and with things like that the label is going to read 'Moron.'" He reversed the tape to the beginning and took a deep breath, and hit "record" once again.
"Hey, Ryan. I want to start out by saying that I realize that no videotapes can change the fact that I'm not around, and I'm sorry about that, pal. I wish things were different, but this is just the way life is. So anyway, I wanted to at least give you something that would kind of show you who I am, or was, and give you some advice that I'm hoping will help you out someday." He ran his hands through his hair nervously. "Well, my childhood was nothing of real interest... I was born in New York, an only child... my parents were what I like to call a Freudian nightmare, which you'll understand if you ever take a psychology class. Anyway, my dad moved out when I was eight because he adopted an alternate lifestyle, and my mother was always traveling around doing book tours and such. So the first time of stability for me was college, which is when I met your Uncle Ross, and eventually, by extension, your mother. I was a business major at NYU, which is pretty boring... by the way, don't ever settle for a temp job. You'll get stuck there forever, mark my words. So anyway, moving along, I met your Uncle Ross when we were roommates in college, and after graduation I moved into the apartment across from the one your mom and I live in now. I eventually fell in love with your mother and we got married and she got pregnant with you. I'll go into the details of all the important stuff later on, I just wanted to give you the basics on who I am, and just to say hi as sort of an introduction to this whole thing. I want you to know that even though I'm not around in the flesh to help you out, I'm going to do my best to set you up with some good advice, and some recommendations of people to ask at different times and situations. I'm sorry that I won't be around for the big events in your life. You... you have no idea how much I want to be there for your first word, your first steps. I want to hear you say 'Dad' so badly that it hurts. But knowing that you'll at least get to hear me say 'son,' even if it is only a recording, will have to suffice. Anyway... I love you, son. Ryan." He stopped the tape again, and stared at the remote in his hand. How on earth was he going to say everything that he wanted to say on a videotape? He shook his head. Don't be so greedy, he scolded himself. A video is the best you've got. Use it. He disassembled the tripod and packed the camcorder back into its bag, placing the tape in its case and labeling it: "In My Life, Part One: Introduction." After a moment, he took the tape out again and placed it back into the recorder. Not bothering with the tripod, he hit "record" manually and turned it so it was facing him. "Son, to add to what's on the beginning of this tape, I figured I'd explain why I labeled it 'In My Life.' See, that's the name of a song... and I'll play it now so that you can hear it. This is one of my favorite songs, and I just wanted you to understand why I named it what I did. Okay, here it goes." He stuck the disc into the stereo and sat the camera on the table so that it was pointing out the window. As the music began to play, he sat behind the camera and listened to the words:
There are places I'll remember
All my life, though some have changed.
Some forever, not for better,
Some have gone and some remain.
All these places have their moments
With lovers and friends I still can recall,
Some are dead and some are living,
In my life I've loved them all.
But of all these friends and lovers,
There is no one compares with you,
And these memories lose their meaning
When I think of love as something new.
Though I know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before,
I know I'll often stop and think about them,
In my life, I love you more.
Though I know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before,
I know I'll often stop and think about them,
In my life, I love you more.
In my life, I love you more.
As the song ended, Chandler wiped away the tears that had formed and simply stopped the video recorder, placing it back in its carry-bag and left for the coffeehouse.
IN MY LIFE, PART TWO: Growing up Bing
Chandler hit the record button and sat on the couch once again. "Hey, kiddo. Well, here it is, part two of the Dad files. I wanted to kind of give you some pointers to help you through elementary and junior high schools. Now, let me say from the beginning, I was kind of a nerd growing up, so I don't really consider myself an authority on the subject, but I figure that as your Dad, I've got at least some pull, right? Right. Well, the first piece of advice that springs to mind: if you're ever in a school play, or just when you're in school, for that matter, don't lift up any girls' skirts. You'll pay for it later in life. Trust me. Next, it's okay to be kind of a nerd. I was, and I ended up with the most beautiful woman in the world as my wife. Not that you're probably interested in that right now, but trust me: eventually, it'll consume your world. Basically, the rules of thumb for surviving those tough years known as childhood and adolescence are relatively simple: Do your homework. Eat good foods. Don't revert to making bad jokes as a defense mechanism. Don't worry if people make fun of your last name... how many kids do you know that have the same name as an ice cream flavor? Don't fight with kids who aren't worth getting into trouble over. And, lastly, go easy on your mother. It's a gift in itself to have a mom who loves you as much as yours does. And just for the record: your dad loves you that much, too."
IN MY LIFE, PART THREE: Teenage Years, College, and Love
"Okay, Ryan, if you're watching this one, a few things are evident: 1) you're at a pretty sucky (at times) and kind of kickass (at other times) part of your life; 2) the first two parts of this collection weren't so horrible that you threw the rest away; and 3) maybe you're going to eventually realize how much I love you, although odds are that you won't know that until you have a child of your own. Well anyway, being a teenager. I remember when I was about seventeen -- I was hopeless. With girls, with most things. But if you're the awesome kid I know you're going to turn out to be, I'll bet you're a lot smoother than your old man. Well, basically, the cardinal rules of the teenage years: Don't drink. Although chances are you will, so when you're so hung over the next morning that you don't want to live, drink a beer, eat some bread, and take a couple aspirin. And realize that even though you vow to never drink again, you will, but you might do it better next time. Don't smoke. It sucks... you end up listening to hypnosis tapes in your sleep and they can really mess with your head. Don't play girls. This is the serious one. Although it might feel good to think that they want you, it'll backfire. Nobody likes to have their heart broken, and women are like a superhighway of news: if you screw one over, the rest will pin you down as a jerk for as long as you live. Go to college. College is the best time of your life, they say. Well, it's certainly interesting. The dorm ventilation will have all of your belongings smelling like mold within a week, you'll gain the 'freshman 15' from drinking beer and ordering pizza at 3 a.m., you'll learn (the hard way) that laundry really isn't as easy as it looks, and you will realize that people do stupid things when they're drunk. Ask your Uncle Ross... if he's in an open mood, you'll hear the story of how he slept with a cleaning lady.
As far as love goes, even though I'm your Dad, there's only so much that you can learn from a videotape. I was terrified of love until I found it. Then I was even more terrified of losing it. Thankfully, your mother loves me as much as I love her, and that's the most wonderful feeling in the world. That, and the feeling of knowing that you're going to be a parent. But anyway... it's okay to run from it for awhile, but don't run so fast or so far that it can never catch you. In your mom's and my case, we were best friends and ended up falling in love, and in my opinion, that's the best kind of love there is. Someone you can be yourself with, who knows you as well as you know yourself, and who you love more than life itself.
When it comes to sex... uh... well, be safe, be smart, make it count, and apart from that, ask Joey. Just don't follow in his footsteps."
As he was putting away the camera equipment, the door opened and Monica walked in. "Hey, sweetheart!" she greeted him, dumping her bag on the table and walking over to kiss him. "How goes the project?" she asked, referring to the camera.
"It goes," he said, shrugging. "Today's topics: teenage years, college, love, and a short segment on sex." She looked at him quizzically. "Nothing elaborate... I just told him to be safe and smart and to ask Joey."
"YOU TOLD HIM WHAT?"
"Whoa, not about decisions... I meant more in a general knowledge kind of way."
"Oh," Monica said, calm once again. "You know, come to think of it, it's been awhile..." her voice drifted off and Chandler looked at her, surprised. "Ya wanna?" she asked, smiling slightly.
"Well, let me think," he answered, mock seriousness. "Do I want to go to bed with my beautiful and sexy wife? Hm... tough one." With that, he scooped her into his arms and walked toward the bedroom, pausing halfway there. "Hey, maybe we should videotape this... kind of a how-to section." She swatted him lightly on the shoulder and kissed him deeply on the mouth.
"First of all," she murmured, "we've already done the videotaping thing. And secondly, I know how freaked I was when I found the video of my parents... let's not put him through that." Chandler laughed, walked the rest of the way to the bedroom, and closed the door behind them.
As Monica slept, Chandler lightly ran his fingers up and down her arm, feeling how soft her skin felt beneath his fingertips. Although he tried to hide the decline in his health from his friends and from Monica, he knew he was getting sicker as time went on. While they were making love, he had gotten tired quicker than ever before, and he had been generally weaker for awhile now. He wondered how long he was going to live. Suddenly feeling the urge to get out of bed, he sat up quietly so as not to wake Monica and pulled on his boxers and a t-shirt. He crept out of the bedroom, across the den, and out to the terrace. Breathing in the cool air that was so peaceful on calm spring nights in the city, he rested his hands on the railing and looked up at the stars. He questioned how many more times he would get to see a sky like this. He gazed at the moon and spoke. "God," he said, feeling uneasy. He hadn't addressed anything religious since he was seven and had gone to church on Easter. "Please..." his voice caught and he was silent for a moment. "Please let me live long enough to hold my son." He bit his lip as he felt his eyes begin to sting and sat back into the patio chair to gaze out upon the night.
As the weeks went by, Monica got bigger and Chandler had good days and bad. Sometimes he would be too tired to walk around much, and others he seemed almost as good as normal. Monica was entering the eighth month of her pregnancy, and the question seemed to be looming above them all the time: would Chandler make it? Everyone seemed to think so, and even his own doctors were surprised that he was doing as well as he was. He was getting excited, but at the same time was afraid to hope. He had continued with his video project, taking the camera with him almost everywhere he went so that he could just pick it up and talk like a regular conversation. He had told the story (or saga, as he called it) of Ross and Rachel and had explained why Phoebe and Joey were the way they were. He had told the story of he and Monica (minus the "seven times" and such details) and had taped footage in such places as Central Park, Central Perk, Madison Square Gardens, and the subway. He'd given advice on how to shave, hail a cab, pick up women, dump women, women to avoid (Janice was a key example), shoot a three-pointer, and what sports teams to support (mainly, "Knicks rule all"). He'd explained that dying was a part of living, and that he didn't regret anything about his life, except for the fact that he wouldn't get to watch his son play Little League or graduate from high school. He'd covered virtually everything he could think of and had created a library of eight tapes, but knew there was another he had to do. He wanted to end it in a way that would mean something, but he was lost for an idea. That is, until he came across the old videotape of Monica and Rachel's high school prom and he remembered that, although his parents had been far from the Brady types he'd wanted, they'd taken a few home movies of their own. After getting in touch with his mother and requesting that she send him the tapes, he waited for their arrival. Once they were delivered, he camped in the den and watched them all, beginning to end, trying to figure out what to do with them. He met with a guy he used to work with and got him to do some editing and copying of the videos, and eventually sat down with the last edition of the set. He sat with the remote in his hand, almost afraid to press play. It was as though by finishing the anthology, he had somehow signaled that it was okay for his life to wind down, and he was in no way ready for that. As he played with the remote, Monica entered with the shopping bags and greeted him. Curious when he didn't turn around, she walked over to the couch and sat beside him.
"You okay?" she asked, touching his face. "It's done."
"The movies?"
"Yeah. Last one's in there. Haven't watched it yet." Understanding without asking, she gently took the buttons from him and turned the tape on. She took hold of his hand and sat back to watch the final part of his work. His friend had done a good job -- it looked like it had been done professionally. As the screen faded in, it said in simple lettering: "To Ryan, With Love From Dad." The music faded in from the background, a song Chandler had chosen by Cat Stevens called "Father and Son":
It's not time to make a change, just relax, take it easy.
You're still young, that's your fault, there's so much you have to know.
Find a girl, settle down, if you want to you can marry,
Look at me, I am old, but I'm happy.
I was once like you are now, and I know that it's not easy,
To be calm when you've found something going on.
But take your time, think a lot,
Think of everything you've got,
You will still be here tomorrow, but your dreams may not.
How can I try to explain when I do he turns away again?
It's always been the same, same old story
From the moment I could talk, I was ordered to listen,
Now there's a way and I know that I have to go away.
I know I have to go away.
Its not time to make a change,
Just sit down, take it slowly.
You're still young, that's your fault, there's so much you have to go through,
Find a girl , settle down, if you want to you can marry,
Look at me, I am old but I'm happy.
All the times that I cried keeping all the things I knew inside,
It's hard but it's harder to ignore it.
If they were right, I'd agree, but it's them they know not me,
There's a way and I know that I have to go away.
I know I have to go.
As the song played, the screen was filled at first with a photograph of Chandler when he was a toddler. It then went through a few more photographs and then faded into an old home movie of a young Chandler in a baseball uniform and a glove, throwing a ball in the air and trying (unsuccessfully) to catch it. It then went to a video of his senior prom and his graduation from high school. From that point on, it was videos that he and the gang had made over the years, beginning with the first year that Chandler lived across the hall from Monica. As the first song faded out, a second began: "Forever Young" by Rod Stewart.
May the good Lord be with you down every road you roam,
And may sunshine and happiness surround you when you're far from home.
And may you grow to be proud, dignified and true.
And do unto others as you'd have done to you.
Be courageous and be brave,
And in my heart you'll always stay
Forever young.
May good fortune be with you, may your guiding light be strong.
Build a stairway to heaven, whether prince or a vagabond.
And may you never love in vain,
And in my heart you will remain
Forever young.
Forever young.
And when you finally fly away, I'll be hoping that I served you well.
For all the wisdom of a lifetime, no one can ever tell.
But whatever road you choose,
I'm right behind you, win or lose.
Forever young.
Forever young.
There were videos of Chandler and Joey beating each other up with pillows and then Chandler turning and beating Monica, soon to be beaten by her to the point where she was seated triumphantly on his stomach while he turned an interesting shade of purple. There were segments of Ross and Chandler playing with Ben, his godson, and of all six of the gang just generally goofing around. The end of the tape consisted of various clips of Chandler and Monica, the very last frame being of Chandler sitting on a bench in Central Park with Monica's head in his lap and his hand gently rubbing her belly. The picture faded out as the last lyrics of the song passed. Monica turned to Chandler with tears in her eyes. "What do you think?" he asked nervously. She tried to come up with an answer, but all she could do was kiss him forcefully and wrap her arms around him. "So it's okay, then," he joked, hugging her back. He sighed, hoping that someday it would mean something to his son.
"Chandler?" Monica exited the bedroom nervously, scanning the area for her husband. "Chandler?" She made her way carefully to the bathroom, where she could hear the shower running. She knocked on the door, but realized that he couldn't hear her over the water. She pushed the door open and timidly called out again. "Chandler?" His shampooed head appeared from around the shower door, and despite the tired look on his face and the sunken look of his eyes, there was a cocky glint in them that she recognized.
"Ah, decided to come help me in the shower, eh? Well, you've got no objections from me!" He grinned, but his look turned to questionable when he noted that she made no move to join him.
"My water broke," she told him.
"No, the water's fine. Look, it's running. See? Shower."
"No, not THE water broke," she said, raising her voice to be heard over the shower spray. "I said, MY water broke!" He looked at her, momentarily dumbfounded, and turned off the water.
"What?" he asked, almost afraid to believe it.
"I'm in labor," she replied, her calmness hiding the turmoil of emotions she was feeling inside. It had been a stretch when hoping that Chandler would make it for three months; now he had survived for over five and it looked like he'd get to see his child.
"Hospital!" he shrieked, getting out of the shower.
"Uh, sweetheart? You're still covered in shampoo."
"Oh, for Pete's sake," he muttered, turning the water back on. He rinsed his head quickly and jumped out, grabbing a towel and hastily drying off. He ran into the bedroom, quickly dressed, and dashed back into the kitchen. "How? How so soon? I mean, you're supposed to have another three weeks!"
"Yeah, well, I guess he decided to be impatient."
"Taking after his mother already," Chandler declared as he grabbed the suitcase Monica had packed for when she had to go to the hospital. She stuck out her tongue and waddled out the door.
"Push, Mon, push!" Chandler ordered, brushing her hair away from her face. "Come on, sweetheart, not long now."
"Okay, Mrs. Bing," Dr. Janney ordered. "A few more pushes should do it. Now come on, let's get your son out here, shall we?"
A few moments later, a cry could be heard and Chandler froze, wondering if life was really this good. He rested his head against Monica's and murmured into hear ear, "I love you."
She smiled faintly. "I love you, too."
"Okay, Mom and Dad, meet your son." Wrapped in a blue blanket, the nurse handed Monica the baby as Chandler leaned over her shoulder to look at his son, unaware of the tears streaming down his face. The baby yawned, and after a few moments opened his clear blue eyes to look at his parents.
"Hello, Ryan. Welcome to the world," Monica whispered, kissing the infant on top of his light blue baby cap. She turned to Chandler, and through an unspoken agreement, handed him his son. Still crying, Chandler took the baby gingerly and sat in the chair next to Monica's bed.
"Hey, son." He smiled as he remembered the day he thought that he'd only ever get to say that to a camera. As more tears spilled over, he kissed his son's forehead gently and smiled against the fabric. "Thank you," he murmured too low for anyone in the room to hear, as he remembered his request on the terrace that night so long ago. "Thank you."
PART TWO: Watching
"Mom, are you ready?" 18-year-old Ryan Bing bounded into the kitchen of the apartment and scanned the area for his mother. "Mom?"
"I'm coming, sweetheart. Relax, your father was never picky on times. He won't mind if we're a bit late." Ryan rolled his eyes and sighed.
"I'll go start the car." He left the apartment, leaving Monica putting on her jacket. She sighed, wondering where he got his boundless energy from.
From his father, she thought with a laugh.
They pulled up outside the gates of the place they had visited so many times over the years. Monica remembered when it pained her just to see those gates.
**FLASHBACK**
Monica crawled into bed, having just fed Ryan. "He asleep?" came Chandler's weak voice through the darkness.
"Yeah, sweetie, he's asleep. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."
"I don't mind," he reassured her, rolling over to face her. "It just gives me more time to stare at your beautiful face." He paused, caressing her cheek and looking into her crystal blue eyes that glistened in the moonlight that seeped through the window. "Oh, how I'm going to miss this beautiful face," he said, a lump forming in his throat. Monica's eyes filled with tears. She knew the end was drawing near, and with every day that passed her heart broke a little more. It was obvious that time was going against them, and although Chandler was beyond thankful that he'd gotten to see his son, he dreaded the moment when he'd have to leave both his son and the love of his life.
"How am I going to get by without you?" she asked, running her fingertips over his face. "I can't."
"Yes you can," he assured her. "You will. For Ryan. And I'll always be with you. Always. After all, that's what it says here," he said, lifting up her hand and touching her engraved wedding ring. "Always and forever." The tears spilled over both of their cheeks and he leaned in to kiss her. "I love you so much," he whispered. Before she could respond, he kissed her again, a familiar kiss that she had come to recognize as his way of telling her what it was that he wanted. She broke away and looked into his eyes, wondering if she'd read it right. Sure enough, there was that look in his eyes: the tender, loving look that always crossed his face when they were making love. Afraid that he was going to overexert himself, she looked at him with a serious expression.
"Sweetheart," she began.
"Shhh...." he interrupted, placing a finger on her lips. "Monica, nothing we do or don't do is going to change the rate of deterioration." He kissed her gently on the neck. "Let me make love to you," he whispered. She leaned her head back as he placed butterfly kisses along her jaw and down her neck. She ran her hands through his hair and pulled his face toward her own so that she could kiss him. She kissed him deeply, savoring the moments and trying to ignore the thoughts that crept into her mind, reminding her that this could be the last time she ever got to make love to him. She pushed the thoughts away as she felt his tongue timidly enter her mouth. She deepened the kiss and reached down to the hem of his undershirt, pulling it up and over his head and then discarding it over the edge of the bed. He paused for a moment, brushing a few strands of hair away from her face as he gazed into her eyes. "Forever," he whispered. "You are my everything." Before she could say anything or her eyes could fill with tears, he was kissing her again, slipping her nightie over her head and leaving his boxers as the only thing separating them. After a few moments of kissing, she helped him discard them and looking lovingly up at him, resumed the kissing. She felt the familiarity of him, and as they moved together, she could sense how weak he was. She broke the kiss to murmur into his ear "always and forever, my love," as they enjoyed the love that was their world.
As she rolled over the next morning, she threw her arm over him and lifted her head from the pillow. She looked at his face, which looked so different from how it had looked only a few months before. He opened his eyes slowly and gazed at her from behind the lids. "Morning, beautiful," he whispered in a drained voice. Looking at him, Monica knew.
"Good morning, my love," she answered, trying to fight the tears that threatened to surface. He smiled faintly and reached out a hand to touch her face. She turned and kissed his hand and looked at him again. As she smiled back, she heard Ryan whimper from the next room. She saw Chandler's eyes flicker and she wondered what he was thinking. She didn't have to wonder for long, as he turned and whispered.
"Let's see our son." Monica nodded and grabbed her robe, wrapping it around herself and rushing into the nursery to retrieve her son quickly, intending to spend every possible moment she had left with Chandler.
She returned to the room to see Chandler propped up against the headboard with his eyes closed and his face ashen. After a moment, his eyes opened and he smiled at his family. "Hey, son," he greeted Ryan. Monica stepped closer to the bed and sat down next to him. Chandler weakly held out his arms, and Monica gently placed Ryan in them. As he gazed down at his son, Chandler sighed. He kissed the baby's head and gently stroked his tiny hands. "I love you," he whispered, kissing him again. The baby smiled and sighed contentedly, feeling safe in his father's arms. After a few moments, Chandler lifted one arm and Monica laid her head on his shoulder, placing one arm around his waist and occasionally reaching up to stroke the baby. She noted how secure she felt and almost let out a sigh like her son had done. Desperate to hold on to the moment for as long as she could, she tightened her grip around Chandler ever so slightly, willing for everything to somehow be okay, although deep down she knew that everything would never be truly okay. Not as long as she had to live without Chandler. After awhile, Chandler's voice broke the silence. Knowing what the problem was, she took Ryan out of his father's arms and rewrapped his blanket. Chandler held onto the tiny hands for a moment and then let go as a tear slid down his face. Mon left the room and put Ryan back into his crib with a bottle and returned to the bedroom. She could see that Chandler was having trouble breathing and she rejoined him on the bed, sitting close to him but afraid to touch him for fear that she might hurt him in some way. Curious, Chandler opened his eyes and, seeing Monica's worried look, offered her his shoulder once again. She readily accepted and welcomed the comfort that his arms had always provided. "Love you," he managed. Monica tightened her hold on him and took a deep breath. "With all my heart," she replied. After a few moments she fell asleep, feeling protected and loved in his arms. When she woke not fifteen minutes later, he was gone.
"Ready?" Ryan's voice broke her thoughts and she quickly wiped away the tears that had formed unnoticed. She turned to look at her son, whose looks so closely mirrored those of his father. She was grateful that he was so much like Chandler -- his looks, his sense of humor, and almost everything about him. Throughout the years, it had almost been like having a different version of Chandler around, though not a replacement, just a reminder.
"Ready," she answered as she opened the car door.
"Ya know, Mom, I know you have issues with getting rid of stuff, but don't you think that driving around in a 19-year-old Explorer is overdoing it just a bit?"
She smiled absently and began to walk toward the familiar spot in the cemetery. Ryan hung back as he always did, giving his mother a chance to go visit first. She trod carefully around the plots that separated her from Chandler's headstone. When she reached it, she gently placed the flowers next to the headstone and brushed away a few branches that had fallen around it.
"Happy birthday, my love," she began. Her eyes filled as she read the headstone: "Chandler Adam Bing, 1969-2003. Loving husband, father, and friend." "I miss you so," she whispered as she twisted her wedding ring. "Eighteen years and I still miss you so." She sighed. "I'll be seeing you soon enough, although no amount of time would be short enough for me." She smiled ironically as she thought back to the diagnosis that had both upset and relieved her only a month beforehand. Leukemia. Her doctors had been surprised when she had refused treatment, but it hadn't been their approval she was seeking. She had spoken with Ryan and although he had been upset and angry that she was not going to fight it, he had eventually understood. Although he had had a happy life and a doting mother, the love that she had felt for her husband and the pain of missing him were something that he could see every day, despite the fact that he had no concrete recollection of his father, apart from the two videotapes that he'd watched so many times that he was surprised that they still ran. She ran her hands over the grass and tried to remember the feel of his skin under her touch. She closed her eyes and as she allowed the spring sun to warm her face, she recalled with perfect clarity the sweetness of his kiss and the loving look in his eyes. After a few moments she opened her eyes again, kissed her fingertips, and pressed them to the ground. "Soon, sweetheart. I'll see you soon." She got up and walked away from the plot, and Ryan took the signal and headed toward his dad's grave.
"Hey, Dad," he greeted. He sat down at the foot of the grave, absently running his fingers through the grass. "I hope you can hear me when I say that. 'Dad.' In the video you told me how badly you wished you could hear it. Well, I hope you can, Dad. I love you. Some people don't understand how I can love you without really remembering you, but I do. You're my dad, and that's all I need to know." He sighed, and after a moment spoke again. "She's giving up. I've never known Mom to give up on anything. She'll argue something until she's blue in the face, but at the first chance to see you again, she's throwing in the towel. I only hope I find a love like that someday." He stopped again, and then looked at the headstone in front of him. "In a weird way, it almost makes sense. I mean, for as long as I can remember, it's like there's been something hanging over her, you know? Nothing big, just something always there, at the back of her mind. And now, it's smaller. I know that it's you... she's finally looking forward to something because every day is a day closer to when she'll be with you again." He paused and resumed running his hands through the grass. "I love you, Dad." With that, he kissed his father's headstone and walked back toward the car.
"Ryan?" Monica called over the music. "In My Life" was blaring from Ryan's room and she had to walk over and bang on the door. It opened and Ryan's face appeared. "Sorry, Mom... couldn't hear you."
"I noticed," she answered, smiling. "Sweetheart, there's something I have to give you."
"Oh, I think I know what it is." Without giving her a chance to respond, he continued. "You saw the error of your ways and ultimately decided that a Porsche was a good idea." His mother smiled.
"Not a chance. No, sweetheart, you know those two videos that I gave you when you were young that your father made for you?" He nodded. "Well, there are seven more."
"What?" he asked, not fully understanding. Those two videotapes of his father were his most precious possessions.
"He made you nine videos, but told me to wait until you were older to give you the other seven." Not knowing what to say, he was silent.
"Can I see them now?" he asked.
"Of course," she answered, and went into her room to retrieve the box she had kept them in. As she handed it to Ryan, he sat down on the couch and opened it carefully, almost as though he was afraid someone would come along and snatch it away from him. He pulled the videos out one at a time and frowned when he had pulled the seventh one out and saw that there was one more at the bottom of the box.
"There's eight more," he said.
"No, your father only made nine of them," Monica corrected him. "Well, there's another one at the bottom of the box," he argued, reaching in to get it. Monica frowned.
"That's weird... that box hasn't been opened since he stuck it in the closet." She took the eighth video from him and turned it over, looking for a title. As she did so, she saw the label on the other side, carefully lettered in Chandler's small handwriting. "Monica, my love." As she opened the video case, however, she saw that it wasn't a video but a CD. Confused and nervous, she turned to Ryan.
"I'll go watch these in my room," he said, understanding what she probably wanted. She nodded absently as she turned the disc over and over in her hands. After a few moments, she put it in the stereo and turned up the volume. Her breath caught when Chandler's voice filled the room.
"Monica, my love, I wanted to make you a video, but I couldn't think of what to say or do. I love you. You were and are my everything. All that was anything in my life was because of you, and loving you was the best thing that ever happened to me. You're my heart, my soul, and my life. You remember that movie we once watched, 'Message in a Bottle'? Well, you are my true north. I love you, always and forever." As his voice stopped, music took over. After the first few chords, Monica recognized it as an Aerosmith song, and then the lyrics began.
I could stay awake,
Just to hear you breathing.
Watch you smile while you are sleeping,
While you're far away and dreaming.
I could spend my life in this sweet surrender,
I could stay lost in this moment forever.
Every moment spent with you is a moment I treasure.
Don't wanna close my eyes,
I don't wanna fall asleep 'cause I miss you, babe,
And I don't wanna miss a thing.
'Cause even when I dream of you,
The sweetest dream will never do,
I still miss you, babe, and I don't wanna miss a thing.
Lying close to you,
Feeling your heart beating.
And I'm wondering what you're dreaming,
Wondering if it's me you're seeing.
Then I kiss your eyes,
And thank God we're together.
I just wanna stay with you
In this moment forever, forever and ever.
I don't wanna close my eyes,
I don't wanna fall asleep
'Cause I miss you, babe, and I don't wanna miss a thing
'Cause even when I dream of you,
The sweetest dream will never do,
I'd still miss you, babe, and I don't wanna miss a thing.
I don't wanna miss one smile,
I don't wanna miss one kiss,
I just wanna be with you, right here with you,
Just like this.
I just wanna hold you close,
Feel your heart so close to mine.
And just stay here in this moment for all the rest of time.
Don't wanna close my eyes,
Don't wanna fall asleep,
'Cause I miss you, babe, and I don't wanna miss a thing.
'Cause even when I dream of you,
The sweetest dream will never do,
I'd still miss you babe, and I don't wanna miss a thing.
The tears dripped down her face as she played with her wedding ring and gazed at the photo of her and Chandler that sat on the dresser. As she wiped away the tears, Chandler's voice came through again. "And one more, Mon. Another song... there are about ten billion that I could put on here that would speak my heart, but you always knew what was in it anyway. And you know right now. I love you. Always." Then, a song that Monica had always loved began.
How do I get through one night without you?
If I had to live without you, what kind of life would that be?
Oh, I need you in my arms need you to hold,
You're my world, my heart, my soul,
If you ever leave, baby you would take away everything good in my life.
And tell me now, how do I live without you?
I want to know.
How I breathe without you?
If you ever go.
How do I ever, ever survive?
How do I, how do I, oh how do I live?
Without you, there'd be no sun in my sky,
There would be no love in my life,
There'd be no world left for me.
And I, baby, I don't know what I would do.
I'd be lost if I lost you, if you ever leave,
Baby, you would take away everything real in my life.
And tell me now, how do I live without you?
I want to know.
How I breathe without you?
If you ever go.
How do I ever, ever survive?
How do I, how do I, oh how do I live?
If you ever leave, baby you would take away everything,
Need you with me.
Baby cause you know you're everything good in my life.
And tell me now, how do I live without you?
I want to know.
How I breathe without you?
If you ever go.
How do I ever, ever survive?
How do I, how do I, oh how do I live
Without you?
She continued to twist her ring and look at the photo, gazing into the deep clear blue of his eyes that she missed endlessly, awaiting the day when she would get to see them again.
Always and Forever
PROLOGUE
"Cancer?" Chandler choked out the word, not believing what he was hearing. "What... how..." his voice trailed off as he tried to grasp onto any words that came out of the doctor's mouth. The doctor nodded apologetically.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Bing," he said woefully. Chandler felt Monica's small hand tighten her grasp on his own as she spoke. "What do you mean you're sorry? There are treatments, right? I mean, people beat cancer all the time."
"Yes, Mrs. Bing, they do. In your husband's case, however, the tumor is far to intrusive to operate on. Brain tumors are the trickiest, being that they can only get so large before treatment becomes impossible. That, unfortunately, is what we have here. The growth went undetected for too long. I'm sorry, but there's nothing we can do."
In that moment, Monica lost all self-control. "YOU'RE sorry? You son of a bitch, don't tell me there's nothing you can do! You're a DOCTOR! It's your JOB to cure people!" She felt Chandler's strong arms grab hold of her, and she collapsed into his embrace, sobbing. As he absently rubbed her back, he focused once again on the oncologist before him.
"How long?" he asked, terrified of the answer. The doctor hesitated.
"It's difficult to say. Because it went unnoticed for quite some time, we are unsure of the rate at which it is growing. I hesitate to hazard a guess, but if I did, it would probably be in the neighborhood of three months. Could be more, could be less. I'm sorry," he repeated. Chandler nodded, numb to what he was hearing. Three months. Maybe less.
"So..." his voice caught, and he swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat. "So you're saying that... that I might never get to see my child?" The look in the doctor's eyes answered his question, and Chandler averted his gaze quickly. "I see." He hugged Monica tighter as he heard her cry out again. "Shh..." he whispered into her ear, trying to comfort himself as well as his wife.
Little was said in the car on the way back to the apartment. The car, a Ford Explorer, had been Chandler's gift to Monica when she'd told him that she was pregnant only four months earlier. He'd bought it and put a car seat in the back, telling her that it had "room enough to fit a family." The way things are going, I could have gotten her a sports car, he thought bitterly. There will only be two people to seat, anyway. He concentrated on the road ahead, knuckles turning white as he gripped the wheel and tried to blink back the stinging in his eyes that he knew signaled the onset of tears. Stopping at a red light, he heard Monica sniffle and turned to look at her. She was facing away from him with one hand placed protectively on her stomach and the other wiping her face. "Mon?" No answer. "Sweetheart?" He reached out and took hold of the hand that guarded her bump. She turned to face him, eyes red and watering. She knew she should be the one comforting him, but she couldn't find the strength to console him when her world had just been destroyed. How had pure happiness turned so suddenly into pure grief?
Once they got back to the apartment, Chandler wrapped his arms around Monica and hugged her fiercely, trying to erase or at least minimize the intensity of the thoughts and fears that had been occupying his mind for the last hour. He buried his face in her neck and breathed in the scent that had become so familiar and comforting in the past three years. He felt her arms wrap around him and her hands rub his back as he held onto her tightly. "I'm sorry," he whispered when he realized what was going to happen. Monica broke away suddenly and stared at him.
"Sorry?" she repeated, confused.
"Yeah. I'm sorry that I..." he took a deep breath and tried to steady his shaking voice. "I'm sorry that I might not make it... make it to the birth of our baby." When he reached the end of his sentence, he reached out and placed a hand on Monica's stomach as his eyes once again filled with tears. At that moment, Monica broke down as well.
"Oh, sweetheart," she said, stroking his face. She leaned in and kissed his forehead, eyes, nose, and cheeks. He looked up at her, the pain evident in his eyes.
As he gazed at the love of his life, his wife and best friend, the world seemed to swirl around him, a haze of confusion, disbelief, and helplessness. How could it be? How could he die before he even got to see his child? How was it that he, someone who had been so terrified of love and commitment, had found that commitment to Monica was what he lived for? And how was it, then, that it was all going to be taken from him so soon?
"Cancer?" Joey asked in disbelief. Chandler almost smirked at the irony of that, remembering that it was the exact way in which he had reacted when he was told. The six friends were in Chandler and Monica's den: Rachel, Joey, and Phoebe on the couch, Ross in the chair, and Chandler and Monica standing before them holding hands. "What do you mean?" Chandler took a deep breath as he looked around at his friends. Family, he corrected himself. These people weren't just his friends. Friends were people who you saw a couple times a week and went out for lunch with every so often. These people had been there for him in one way or another for almost as long as he could remember. They were family, in every sense of the word.
"I have a brain tumor," Chandler explained simply
"So, what are you going to do?" Rachel inquired.
"Die," he answered bluntly. He felt instantly bad when they all gasped and Monica's grasp tightened. He tried to make it seem less frank and added, "It's too big to treat." He looked around not at all surprised when the four others couldn't think of anything to say. He simply nodded and took a seat on the floor, pulling Monica into his lap. He placed his hand on her belly, as he had become so accustomed to doing, and rested his head on her shoulder.
Once the group had gotten over the initial shock, they tried to get back into something that at least vaguely resembled a normal lifestyle. Monica wasn't working, as she had decided to take a long maternity leave, and Chandler had tried to continue but eventually quit, seeing no point to carrying on. The others felt guilty about returning to something to seemingly trivial as work, but both Chandler and Monica assured them that there was no use in all of them losing jobs and destroying their lives. As time wore on, Chandler became more and more subdued, alienating himself from his friends as well as his wife and unborn child. He would sometimes disappear for hours and then turn up in the same defeated and unresponsive frame of mind that had seemed to consume him since the visit to the doctor. Monica tried to get through to him, but he was unresponsive to anything and almost everything that seemed to go on around him. She was too afraid to talk much about the baby, and felt almost guilty for being pregnant. How fair was it for her to be excited about becoming a mother when the father of her baby, her husband, and best friend, was probably going to die before he even got to see his child? She could feel it all welling up inside her, but she was afraid to say anything for fear of driving him further away. She wanted so badly to cherish the time she had left with him, but she couldn't see a way of doing so while he was living like a robot.
One night, while Monica was washing dishes and Chandler was reading a magazine at the kitchen counter, she felt a kick in her stomach. With all the stress and the emotional ups and downs of the past few weeks, she had forgotten to expect the baby to kick. She froze and waited, hoping that she would feel it again. She wanted to experience something happy, instead of continuing in the same bleak manner that had occupied their lives recently. She held her breath. There it was again. She put down the plate she had been drying and turned to Chandler, who was still immersed in his magazine. "Chandler," she whispered. He didn't answer. "Chandler," she said a little bit louder. He turned to face her. "The baby kicked," she said, uneasy about bringing it up. It had been awhile since they'd said much about the baby, almost as if it were a taboo subject. He jumped up from the table and moved so he was next to her.
"Really?" Monica almost smiled when she saw a glimmer of the spark in his eye that she had missed so badly. He reached out and placed his hand on her stomach and waited. After a few moments, he felt it. A thump. "Whoa," he breathed, drawing his hand back. He looked into Monica's eyes, where he saw a happiness so obvious that it brought him crashing back to reality. That might be the closest he ever came to touching his child. He withdrew his hand roughly and averted his gaze. "Cool," he said nonchalantly, trying not to let her see the sorrow that had engulfed him once again. Monica's hopes fell as she watched him turn his back on her.
"Don't," she choked out, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. He turned to face her with a look in his eyes that was almost challenging. Almost as though he were daring her to be angry with him. "Don't, Chandler. Please. Don't turn your back on me. Not now. Not when I need you so badly. I need to share this with you. I need you to be there, I need to feel the love that used to make me feel so safe. Please don't make me do this alone. Part of what makes this baby so special is that it's yours. It exists because you love me, because I love you. Please, don't turn your back on it now."
"I am 'being there,' okay? I'm being there the best way I know how! I am trying to figure out insurance issues and trying to settle things so that you won't have to deal with that after... I'm setting up trust funds and getting all the finances squared away, okay? I'm doing the best I can, Monica!"
"DAMMIT, Chandler, I don't need you to be there like a bank. I need you to be there as my husband! I need you to take me in your arms and promise me that it will be okay! I need you to tell me that you love me! I need to know you love our child and don't resent it, or me! You're not the only one going through this! I love you and your life more than I love my own. This is killing me as much as it's killing you... please don't shut me out! Damn you, don't turn away from me now!" With that, she picked up the plate and threw it against the door, allowing the shattering sound of china to be the emphasizing end to her speech. She broke down sobbing and made a move to run past him, not expecting him to make any move to stop her. As she passed, she felt him reach out and catch her by the waist and spin her to face him. She pounded his chest with her fists, angry at him, angry at herself, angry at the world. "You can't leave me, I need you! This isn't fair!" She fell into his arms weeping and he sunk down to the floor, rocking her back and forth and crying into her hair.
"I know, babe," he soothed, rubbing her back and ignoring the tears that he let flow freely for the first time since the day he'd found out. "I know." He wondered how he was going to get through this. How he was going to be able to be supportive of the woman he loved and the child that he ached to cradle in his arms when it was unlikely that he'd ever get the chance to do so?
The next morning, Monica rolled over and reached out to throw her arm over Chandler's shoulder. She opened her eyes when she realized he wasn't there and sat up, rubbing her eyes. Just as she was getting up to see why he'd gotten out of bed, the door opened and he entered, carrying a tray with breakfast, juice, and a flower. She smiled, almost afraid to believe that she had her Chandler back. "Morning, beautiful," he said, smiling that gorgeous smile that she had missed during the past weeks.
"Hey... what did I do to deserve this?"
"You're having my baby... WHAT A LOVELY WAY OF SAYING HOW MUCH YOU LOVE ME..." He broke out in song when he realized that he had started off with a line from an old song. Monica laughed, and enjoyed the feeling of doing so.
"You're such a goofball," she said, unable to stop smiling. "Yeah, well, that was in the contract when you married me," he answered. "You shoulda read the fine print, babe." She grinned and pulled him in for a kiss. He pulled away after a moment and gazed at her. "I love you, ya know."
"Yeah, I know. I love you too." She kissed him and hoped that she had her Chandler back for good.
Later that morning, as Monica exited the bathroom after her shower, she walked into the kitchen, wondering what it was that was consuming her husband's attention and had him hunched over and scribbling furiously. She walked up behind him and began rubbing his shoulders. He jumped, having not heard her leave the bathroom. "Oh, hey, hon. Mmmm, you smell good."
"Well thank you... I bet the inventor of scented shower gel rests happily in his grave."
"Ahh... good to see that my sarcasm is rubbing off on you," he said, kissing her as she maneuvered herself into his lap. Ignoring his comment, she turned to the writing tablet that was on the table.
"Whatcha doing?" she asked.
"Oh, this? Uhh... okay, this is... well, kind of an idea I had. If you hate it, then I won't do it. It's just kind of this thing I want to do, but if you'd rather I didn't, I won't. Just tell me..."
"Sweetheart, calm down," Mon interrupted, laughing. "What is it?"
"Okay, well... it's my baby project."
"Baby project?" she repeated.
"Yeah. Since I... uh... since I'm not going to be able to teach my son or daughter the things that a father is supposed to teach them, I figured I'd do it ahead of time. Then our kid can just use me as kind of a reference. You know, like, 'What would Dad do? See part four for full advice.'"
"So you're going to write the baby a book?"
"Not exactly."
"Not exactly?"
"No, um... being that this is the age of technology... I'm going to make a tape. You know, like a video. I want him--"
"Ahem."
"Him or her--"
"Thank you."
"--to at least know who I was, even if he or SHE never actually remembers me." He looked at her intently, worried of what she was going to say. He wondered if she'd think he was crazy, or just corny, but as she put her hand to his face, her eyes shone with tears.
"I love it," she said softly. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held onto him for dear life, dreading the day when she wouldn't be able to do it anymore.
As Monica lay on the table at her doctor's office, she gazed absently around the room. She wondered whether or not Chandler would want to know the sex of the baby. She had been nervous about asking him, concerned about triggering the sadness that he had thus far managed to put behind him. As she deliberated whether or not to find out whether it was a boy or girl, the door opened. She turned, expecting to see her doctor smiling in her efficient and professional way. Instead, surprisingly, she found herself looking at her husband who looked rather nervous and out of place. When he realized he was in the right room, his discomfort seemed to ease a bit and he smiled.
"What are you doing here?" Monica asked.
"Now is that any way to greet your husband?" he joked.
"I'm sorry. But seriously, what are you doing here?" He looked at her and his expression turned to one of seriousness.
"Being there for my wife and child," he said simply. Mon's heart melted and she held out her hand, delighted when she felt his fingers intertwine with her own. As he leaned in and gently kissed her on the forehead, the door opened again.
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Bing," the woman greeted in a friendly tone. "Ah, this must be the father I've heard so much about." She extended her hand.
"Yes, this is my husband, Chandler," Monica introduced. "Sweetheart, this is Dr. Janney." Chandler shook the outstretched hand nervously and tried to smile.
"Relax, Mr. Bing. You won't feel a thing, I promise." She smiled kindly and turned to Monica. "Shall we get this show on the road?" Monica nodded and reached for Chandler's hand again. He moved next to her and gazed at her lovingly, squeezing her hand. He shifted his gaze to Monica's stomach and watched at Dr. Janney squirted some gel onto her bump and then began with the sonogram. He looked at Monica's face to make sure she was okay, and felt reassured when she smiled up at him. He grinned back and turned once again to the monitor, wondering if he'd be able to see anything that resembled a human form. After a few moments, the doctor spoke.
"Well, Monica, things are progressing nicely. You're at twenty-three weeks and everything looks just fine." Chandler released the breath that he wasn't aware that he'd been holding. Four and a half months to go. He wondered how high the odds were that he'd make it to the end of those weeks. Shortly, the doctor spoke again. "Would you like to know the sex of the baby?" Chandler turned to Monica, wondering what she'd say. There was no doubt in his mind that he wanted to know, given that he might not get to see for himself. Monica looked back at him, fairly certain of what it was he was thinking. She half-nodded in his direction, and he smiled back. They turned and answered in unison: "Yes." Dr. Janney smiled.
"Congratulations, you're having a son." Monica's eyes filled with tears as she squeezed Chandler's hand.
"A boy, sweetheart. We're having a boy." He grinned back at her and kissed her lovingly, glad that she'd seen that he wanted to know.
"Alexander," Monica suggested.
Chandler made a face. "Patrick."
"Nah. Nicholas."
"Scott."
"Ethan."
"After your underage lover? Yeah right."
Monica laughed. "I'd forgotten about him. Tucker."
"Ugh. Justin."
"Zeus."
"Don't even joke. Bailey."
"Bailey Bing? I don't think so."
"I'm beginning to understand how I ended up with such a strange name. Hey, how about Ryan?"
"Ryan," Monica repeated. She smiled. "I like that. Simple, but good. What about a middle name?"
"Man, we have to come up with ANOTHER one?" He grinned. "Just kidding. Um... I don't know... how about you pick it, since I picked the first name?"
Monica thought for a second and looked at him evenly. "Chandler," she said, more a statement than a suggestion.
"Chandler?" he repeated. "Are you sure? I mean, I got a lot of schtick for that name over the years... are you sure you want our son to have the same name?"
"Yes," she said simply. "Chandler. Ryan Chandler Bing," she said, trying out the sound of it. "I like it."
Chandler smiled. "Me too," he said after a moment. He leaned across the couch and placed his hand on Monica's bump. "Hey, Ryan," he said softly. Monica smiled and kissed his head as he kissed her stomach.
IN MY LIFE, PART ONE: Introduction
Chandler adjusted the camera so that it was pointing directly at where he would be sitting on the couch. He grabbed the remote and hoped that the stupid thing would work. Never a genius with technological gadgets, he had little patience with such things as camcorders. He took off the lens cap and sat on the couch, cracking his knuckles nervously. He hit the "record" button on the remote and took it as a good sign when a red light came on. He faced the lens.
"Hey. I'm your Dad. Chandler Bing. That's my name, by the way. Chandler." He paused and groaned in frustration and then hit the "stop" button on the remote. "Yeah," he muttered to himself. "This is going to be how your child knows you, and with things like that the label is going to read 'Moron.'" He reversed the tape to the beginning and took a deep breath, and hit "record" once again.
"Hey, Ryan. I want to start out by saying that I realize that no videotapes can change the fact that I'm not around, and I'm sorry about that, pal. I wish things were different, but this is just the way life is. So anyway, I wanted to at least give you something that would kind of show you who I am, or was, and give you some advice that I'm hoping will help you out someday." He ran his hands through his hair nervously. "Well, my childhood was nothing of real interest... I was born in New York, an only child... my parents were what I like to call a Freudian nightmare, which you'll understand if you ever take a psychology class. Anyway, my dad moved out when I was eight because he adopted an alternate lifestyle, and my mother was always traveling around doing book tours and such. So the first time of stability for me was college, which is when I met your Uncle Ross, and eventually, by extension, your mother. I was a business major at NYU, which is pretty boring... by the way, don't ever settle for a temp job. You'll get stuck there forever, mark my words. So anyway, moving along, I met your Uncle Ross when we were roommates in college, and after graduation I moved into the apartment across from the one your mom and I live in now. I eventually fell in love with your mother and we got married and she got pregnant with you. I'll go into the details of all the important stuff later on, I just wanted to give you the basics on who I am, and just to say hi as sort of an introduction to this whole thing. I want you to know that even though I'm not around in the flesh to help you out, I'm going to do my best to set you up with some good advice, and some recommendations of people to ask at different times and situations. I'm sorry that I won't be around for the big events in your life. You... you have no idea how much I want to be there for your first word, your first steps. I want to hear you say 'Dad' so badly that it hurts. But knowing that you'll at least get to hear me say 'son,' even if it is only a recording, will have to suffice. Anyway... I love you, son. Ryan." He stopped the tape again, and stared at the remote in his hand. How on earth was he going to say everything that he wanted to say on a videotape? He shook his head. Don't be so greedy, he scolded himself. A video is the best you've got. Use it. He disassembled the tripod and packed the camcorder back into its bag, placing the tape in its case and labeling it: "In My Life, Part One: Introduction." After a moment, he took the tape out again and placed it back into the recorder. Not bothering with the tripod, he hit "record" manually and turned it so it was facing him. "Son, to add to what's on the beginning of this tape, I figured I'd explain why I labeled it 'In My Life.' See, that's the name of a song... and I'll play it now so that you can hear it. This is one of my favorite songs, and I just wanted you to understand why I named it what I did. Okay, here it goes." He stuck the disc into the stereo and sat the camera on the table so that it was pointing out the window. As the music began to play, he sat behind the camera and listened to the words:
There are places I'll remember
All my life, though some have changed.
Some forever, not for better,
Some have gone and some remain.
All these places have their moments
With lovers and friends I still can recall,
Some are dead and some are living,
In my life I've loved them all.
But of all these friends and lovers,
There is no one compares with you,
And these memories lose their meaning
When I think of love as something new.
Though I know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before,
I know I'll often stop and think about them,
In my life, I love you more.
Though I know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before,
I know I'll often stop and think about them,
In my life, I love you more.
In my life, I love you more.
As the song ended, Chandler wiped away the tears that had formed and simply stopped the video recorder, placing it back in its carry-bag and left for the coffeehouse.
IN MY LIFE, PART TWO: Growing up Bing
Chandler hit the record button and sat on the couch once again. "Hey, kiddo. Well, here it is, part two of the Dad files. I wanted to kind of give you some pointers to help you through elementary and junior high schools. Now, let me say from the beginning, I was kind of a nerd growing up, so I don't really consider myself an authority on the subject, but I figure that as your Dad, I've got at least some pull, right? Right. Well, the first piece of advice that springs to mind: if you're ever in a school play, or just when you're in school, for that matter, don't lift up any girls' skirts. You'll pay for it later in life. Trust me. Next, it's okay to be kind of a nerd. I was, and I ended up with the most beautiful woman in the world as my wife. Not that you're probably interested in that right now, but trust me: eventually, it'll consume your world. Basically, the rules of thumb for surviving those tough years known as childhood and adolescence are relatively simple: Do your homework. Eat good foods. Don't revert to making bad jokes as a defense mechanism. Don't worry if people make fun of your last name... how many kids do you know that have the same name as an ice cream flavor? Don't fight with kids who aren't worth getting into trouble over. And, lastly, go easy on your mother. It's a gift in itself to have a mom who loves you as much as yours does. And just for the record: your dad loves you that much, too."
IN MY LIFE, PART THREE: Teenage Years, College, and Love
"Okay, Ryan, if you're watching this one, a few things are evident: 1) you're at a pretty sucky (at times) and kind of kickass (at other times) part of your life; 2) the first two parts of this collection weren't so horrible that you threw the rest away; and 3) maybe you're going to eventually realize how much I love you, although odds are that you won't know that until you have a child of your own. Well anyway, being a teenager. I remember when I was about seventeen -- I was hopeless. With girls, with most things. But if you're the awesome kid I know you're going to turn out to be, I'll bet you're a lot smoother than your old man. Well, basically, the cardinal rules of the teenage years: Don't drink. Although chances are you will, so when you're so hung over the next morning that you don't want to live, drink a beer, eat some bread, and take a couple aspirin. And realize that even though you vow to never drink again, you will, but you might do it better next time. Don't smoke. It sucks... you end up listening to hypnosis tapes in your sleep and they can really mess with your head. Don't play girls. This is the serious one. Although it might feel good to think that they want you, it'll backfire. Nobody likes to have their heart broken, and women are like a superhighway of news: if you screw one over, the rest will pin you down as a jerk for as long as you live. Go to college. College is the best time of your life, they say. Well, it's certainly interesting. The dorm ventilation will have all of your belongings smelling like mold within a week, you'll gain the 'freshman 15' from drinking beer and ordering pizza at 3 a.m., you'll learn (the hard way) that laundry really isn't as easy as it looks, and you will realize that people do stupid things when they're drunk. Ask your Uncle Ross... if he's in an open mood, you'll hear the story of how he slept with a cleaning lady.
As far as love goes, even though I'm your Dad, there's only so much that you can learn from a videotape. I was terrified of love until I found it. Then I was even more terrified of losing it. Thankfully, your mother loves me as much as I love her, and that's the most wonderful feeling in the world. That, and the feeling of knowing that you're going to be a parent. But anyway... it's okay to run from it for awhile, but don't run so fast or so far that it can never catch you. In your mom's and my case, we were best friends and ended up falling in love, and in my opinion, that's the best kind of love there is. Someone you can be yourself with, who knows you as well as you know yourself, and who you love more than life itself.
When it comes to sex... uh... well, be safe, be smart, make it count, and apart from that, ask Joey. Just don't follow in his footsteps."
As he was putting away the camera equipment, the door opened and Monica walked in. "Hey, sweetheart!" she greeted him, dumping her bag on the table and walking over to kiss him. "How goes the project?" she asked, referring to the camera.
"It goes," he said, shrugging. "Today's topics: teenage years, college, love, and a short segment on sex." She looked at him quizzically. "Nothing elaborate... I just told him to be safe and smart and to ask Joey."
"YOU TOLD HIM WHAT?"
"Whoa, not about decisions... I meant more in a general knowledge kind of way."
"Oh," Monica said, calm once again. "You know, come to think of it, it's been awhile..." her voice drifted off and Chandler looked at her, surprised. "Ya wanna?" she asked, smiling slightly.
"Well, let me think," he answered, mock seriousness. "Do I want to go to bed with my beautiful and sexy wife? Hm... tough one." With that, he scooped her into his arms and walked toward the bedroom, pausing halfway there. "Hey, maybe we should videotape this... kind of a how-to section." She swatted him lightly on the shoulder and kissed him deeply on the mouth.
"First of all," she murmured, "we've already done the videotaping thing. And secondly, I know how freaked I was when I found the video of my parents... let's not put him through that." Chandler laughed, walked the rest of the way to the bedroom, and closed the door behind them.
As Monica slept, Chandler lightly ran his fingers up and down her arm, feeling how soft her skin felt beneath his fingertips. Although he tried to hide the decline in his health from his friends and from Monica, he knew he was getting sicker as time went on. While they were making love, he had gotten tired quicker than ever before, and he had been generally weaker for awhile now. He wondered how long he was going to live. Suddenly feeling the urge to get out of bed, he sat up quietly so as not to wake Monica and pulled on his boxers and a t-shirt. He crept out of the bedroom, across the den, and out to the terrace. Breathing in the cool air that was so peaceful on calm spring nights in the city, he rested his hands on the railing and looked up at the stars. He questioned how many more times he would get to see a sky like this. He gazed at the moon and spoke. "God," he said, feeling uneasy. He hadn't addressed anything religious since he was seven and had gone to church on Easter. "Please..." his voice caught and he was silent for a moment. "Please let me live long enough to hold my son." He bit his lip as he felt his eyes begin to sting and sat back into the patio chair to gaze out upon the night.
As the weeks went by, Monica got bigger and Chandler had good days and bad. Sometimes he would be too tired to walk around much, and others he seemed almost as good as normal. Monica was entering the eighth month of her pregnancy, and the question seemed to be looming above them all the time: would Chandler make it? Everyone seemed to think so, and even his own doctors were surprised that he was doing as well as he was. He was getting excited, but at the same time was afraid to hope. He had continued with his video project, taking the camera with him almost everywhere he went so that he could just pick it up and talk like a regular conversation. He had told the story (or saga, as he called it) of Ross and Rachel and had explained why Phoebe and Joey were the way they were. He had told the story of he and Monica (minus the "seven times" and such details) and had taped footage in such places as Central Park, Central Perk, Madison Square Gardens, and the subway. He'd given advice on how to shave, hail a cab, pick up women, dump women, women to avoid (Janice was a key example), shoot a three-pointer, and what sports teams to support (mainly, "Knicks rule all"). He'd explained that dying was a part of living, and that he didn't regret anything about his life, except for the fact that he wouldn't get to watch his son play Little League or graduate from high school. He'd covered virtually everything he could think of and had created a library of eight tapes, but knew there was another he had to do. He wanted to end it in a way that would mean something, but he was lost for an idea. That is, until he came across the old videotape of Monica and Rachel's high school prom and he remembered that, although his parents had been far from the Brady types he'd wanted, they'd taken a few home movies of their own. After getting in touch with his mother and requesting that she send him the tapes, he waited for their arrival. Once they were delivered, he camped in the den and watched them all, beginning to end, trying to figure out what to do with them. He met with a guy he used to work with and got him to do some editing and copying of the videos, and eventually sat down with the last edition of the set. He sat with the remote in his hand, almost afraid to press play. It was as though by finishing the anthology, he had somehow signaled that it was okay for his life to wind down, and he was in no way ready for that. As he played with the remote, Monica entered with the shopping bags and greeted him. Curious when he didn't turn around, she walked over to the couch and sat beside him.
"You okay?" she asked, touching his face. "It's done."
"The movies?"
"Yeah. Last one's in there. Haven't watched it yet." Understanding without asking, she gently took the buttons from him and turned the tape on. She took hold of his hand and sat back to watch the final part of his work. His friend had done a good job -- it looked like it had been done professionally. As the screen faded in, it said in simple lettering: "To Ryan, With Love From Dad." The music faded in from the background, a song Chandler had chosen by Cat Stevens called "Father and Son":
It's not time to make a change, just relax, take it easy.
You're still young, that's your fault, there's so much you have to know.
Find a girl, settle down, if you want to you can marry,
Look at me, I am old, but I'm happy.
I was once like you are now, and I know that it's not easy,
To be calm when you've found something going on.
But take your time, think a lot,
Think of everything you've got,
You will still be here tomorrow, but your dreams may not.
How can I try to explain when I do he turns away again?
It's always been the same, same old story
From the moment I could talk, I was ordered to listen,
Now there's a way and I know that I have to go away.
I know I have to go away.
Its not time to make a change,
Just sit down, take it slowly.
You're still young, that's your fault, there's so much you have to go through,
Find a girl , settle down, if you want to you can marry,
Look at me, I am old but I'm happy.
All the times that I cried keeping all the things I knew inside,
It's hard but it's harder to ignore it.
If they were right, I'd agree, but it's them they know not me,
There's a way and I know that I have to go away.
I know I have to go.
As the song played, the screen was filled at first with a photograph of Chandler when he was a toddler. It then went through a few more photographs and then faded into an old home movie of a young Chandler in a baseball uniform and a glove, throwing a ball in the air and trying (unsuccessfully) to catch it. It then went to a video of his senior prom and his graduation from high school. From that point on, it was videos that he and the gang had made over the years, beginning with the first year that Chandler lived across the hall from Monica. As the first song faded out, a second began: "Forever Young" by Rod Stewart.
May the good Lord be with you down every road you roam,
And may sunshine and happiness surround you when you're far from home.
And may you grow to be proud, dignified and true.
And do unto others as you'd have done to you.
Be courageous and be brave,
And in my heart you'll always stay
Forever young.
May good fortune be with you, may your guiding light be strong.
Build a stairway to heaven, whether prince or a vagabond.
And may you never love in vain,
And in my heart you will remain
Forever young.
Forever young.
And when you finally fly away, I'll be hoping that I served you well.
For all the wisdom of a lifetime, no one can ever tell.
But whatever road you choose,
I'm right behind you, win or lose.
Forever young.
Forever young.
There were videos of Chandler and Joey beating each other up with pillows and then Chandler turning and beating Monica, soon to be beaten by her to the point where she was seated triumphantly on his stomach while he turned an interesting shade of purple. There were segments of Ross and Chandler playing with Ben, his godson, and of all six of the gang just generally goofing around. The end of the tape consisted of various clips of Chandler and Monica, the very last frame being of Chandler sitting on a bench in Central Park with Monica's head in his lap and his hand gently rubbing her belly. The picture faded out as the last lyrics of the song passed. Monica turned to Chandler with tears in her eyes. "What do you think?" he asked nervously. She tried to come up with an answer, but all she could do was kiss him forcefully and wrap her arms around him. "So it's okay, then," he joked, hugging her back. He sighed, hoping that someday it would mean something to his son.
"Chandler?" Monica exited the bedroom nervously, scanning the area for her husband. "Chandler?" She made her way carefully to the bathroom, where she could hear the shower running. She knocked on the door, but realized that he couldn't hear her over the water. She pushed the door open and timidly called out again. "Chandler?" His shampooed head appeared from around the shower door, and despite the tired look on his face and the sunken look of his eyes, there was a cocky glint in them that she recognized.
"Ah, decided to come help me in the shower, eh? Well, you've got no objections from me!" He grinned, but his look turned to questionable when he noted that she made no move to join him.
"My water broke," she told him.
"No, the water's fine. Look, it's running. See? Shower."
"No, not THE water broke," she said, raising her voice to be heard over the shower spray. "I said, MY water broke!" He looked at her, momentarily dumbfounded, and turned off the water.
"What?" he asked, almost afraid to believe it.
"I'm in labor," she replied, her calmness hiding the turmoil of emotions she was feeling inside. It had been a stretch when hoping that Chandler would make it for three months; now he had survived for over five and it looked like he'd get to see his child.
"Hospital!" he shrieked, getting out of the shower.
"Uh, sweetheart? You're still covered in shampoo."
"Oh, for Pete's sake," he muttered, turning the water back on. He rinsed his head quickly and jumped out, grabbing a towel and hastily drying off. He ran into the bedroom, quickly dressed, and dashed back into the kitchen. "How? How so soon? I mean, you're supposed to have another three weeks!"
"Yeah, well, I guess he decided to be impatient."
"Taking after his mother already," Chandler declared as he grabbed the suitcase Monica had packed for when she had to go to the hospital. She stuck out her tongue and waddled out the door.
"Push, Mon, push!" Chandler ordered, brushing her hair away from her face. "Come on, sweetheart, not long now."
"Okay, Mrs. Bing," Dr. Janney ordered. "A few more pushes should do it. Now come on, let's get your son out here, shall we?"
A few moments later, a cry could be heard and Chandler froze, wondering if life was really this good. He rested his head against Monica's and murmured into hear ear, "I love you."
She smiled faintly. "I love you, too."
"Okay, Mom and Dad, meet your son." Wrapped in a blue blanket, the nurse handed Monica the baby as Chandler leaned over her shoulder to look at his son, unaware of the tears streaming down his face. The baby yawned, and after a few moments opened his clear blue eyes to look at his parents.
"Hello, Ryan. Welcome to the world," Monica whispered, kissing the infant on top of his light blue baby cap. She turned to Chandler, and through an unspoken agreement, handed him his son. Still crying, Chandler took the baby gingerly and sat in the chair next to Monica's bed.
"Hey, son." He smiled as he remembered the day he thought that he'd only ever get to say that to a camera. As more tears spilled over, he kissed his son's forehead gently and smiled against the fabric. "Thank you," he murmured too low for anyone in the room to hear, as he remembered his request on the terrace that night so long ago. "Thank you."
PART TWO: Watching
"Mom, are you ready?" 18-year-old Ryan Bing bounded into the kitchen of the apartment and scanned the area for his mother. "Mom?"
"I'm coming, sweetheart. Relax, your father was never picky on times. He won't mind if we're a bit late." Ryan rolled his eyes and sighed.
"I'll go start the car." He left the apartment, leaving Monica putting on her jacket. She sighed, wondering where he got his boundless energy from.
From his father, she thought with a laugh.
They pulled up outside the gates of the place they had visited so many times over the years. Monica remembered when it pained her just to see those gates.
**FLASHBACK**
Monica crawled into bed, having just fed Ryan. "He asleep?" came Chandler's weak voice through the darkness.
"Yeah, sweetie, he's asleep. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."
"I don't mind," he reassured her, rolling over to face her. "It just gives me more time to stare at your beautiful face." He paused, caressing her cheek and looking into her crystal blue eyes that glistened in the moonlight that seeped through the window. "Oh, how I'm going to miss this beautiful face," he said, a lump forming in his throat. Monica's eyes filled with tears. She knew the end was drawing near, and with every day that passed her heart broke a little more. It was obvious that time was going against them, and although Chandler was beyond thankful that he'd gotten to see his son, he dreaded the moment when he'd have to leave both his son and the love of his life.
"How am I going to get by without you?" she asked, running her fingertips over his face. "I can't."
"Yes you can," he assured her. "You will. For Ryan. And I'll always be with you. Always. After all, that's what it says here," he said, lifting up her hand and touching her engraved wedding ring. "Always and forever." The tears spilled over both of their cheeks and he leaned in to kiss her. "I love you so much," he whispered. Before she could respond, he kissed her again, a familiar kiss that she had come to recognize as his way of telling her what it was that he wanted. She broke away and looked into his eyes, wondering if she'd read it right. Sure enough, there was that look in his eyes: the tender, loving look that always crossed his face when they were making love. Afraid that he was going to overexert himself, she looked at him with a serious expression.
"Sweetheart," she began.
"Shhh...." he interrupted, placing a finger on her lips. "Monica, nothing we do or don't do is going to change the rate of deterioration." He kissed her gently on the neck. "Let me make love to you," he whispered. She leaned her head back as he placed butterfly kisses along her jaw and down her neck. She ran her hands through his hair and pulled his face toward her own so that she could kiss him. She kissed him deeply, savoring the moments and trying to ignore the thoughts that crept into her mind, reminding her that this could be the last time she ever got to make love to him. She pushed the thoughts away as she felt his tongue timidly enter her mouth. She deepened the kiss and reached down to the hem of his undershirt, pulling it up and over his head and then discarding it over the edge of the bed. He paused for a moment, brushing a few strands of hair away from her face as he gazed into her eyes. "Forever," he whispered. "You are my everything." Before she could say anything or her eyes could fill with tears, he was kissing her again, slipping her nightie over her head and leaving his boxers as the only thing separating them. After a few moments of kissing, she helped him discard them and looking lovingly up at him, resumed the kissing. She felt the familiarity of him, and as they moved together, she could sense how weak he was. She broke the kiss to murmur into his ear "always and forever, my love," as they enjoyed the love that was their world.
As she rolled over the next morning, she threw her arm over him and lifted her head from the pillow. She looked at his face, which looked so different from how it had looked only a few months before. He opened his eyes slowly and gazed at her from behind the lids. "Morning, beautiful," he whispered in a drained voice. Looking at him, Monica knew.
"Good morning, my love," she answered, trying to fight the tears that threatened to surface. He smiled faintly and reached out a hand to touch her face. She turned and kissed his hand and looked at him again. As she smiled back, she heard Ryan whimper from the next room. She saw Chandler's eyes flicker and she wondered what he was thinking. She didn't have to wonder for long, as he turned and whispered.
"Let's see our son." Monica nodded and grabbed her robe, wrapping it around herself and rushing into the nursery to retrieve her son quickly, intending to spend every possible moment she had left with Chandler.
She returned to the room to see Chandler propped up against the headboard with his eyes closed and his face ashen. After a moment, his eyes opened and he smiled at his family. "Hey, son," he greeted Ryan. Monica stepped closer to the bed and sat down next to him. Chandler weakly held out his arms, and Monica gently placed Ryan in them. As he gazed down at his son, Chandler sighed. He kissed the baby's head and gently stroked his tiny hands. "I love you," he whispered, kissing him again. The baby smiled and sighed contentedly, feeling safe in his father's arms. After a few moments, Chandler lifted one arm and Monica laid her head on his shoulder, placing one arm around his waist and occasionally reaching up to stroke the baby. She noted how secure she felt and almost let out a sigh like her son had done. Desperate to hold on to the moment for as long as she could, she tightened her grip around Chandler ever so slightly, willing for everything to somehow be okay, although deep down she knew that everything would never be truly okay. Not as long as she had to live without Chandler. After awhile, Chandler's voice broke the silence. Knowing what the problem was, she took Ryan out of his father's arms and rewrapped his blanket. Chandler held onto the tiny hands for a moment and then let go as a tear slid down his face. Mon left the room and put Ryan back into his crib with a bottle and returned to the bedroom. She could see that Chandler was having trouble breathing and she rejoined him on the bed, sitting close to him but afraid to touch him for fear that she might hurt him in some way. Curious, Chandler opened his eyes and, seeing Monica's worried look, offered her his shoulder once again. She readily accepted and welcomed the comfort that his arms had always provided. "Love you," he managed. Monica tightened her hold on him and took a deep breath. "With all my heart," she replied. After a few moments she fell asleep, feeling protected and loved in his arms. When she woke not fifteen minutes later, he was gone.
"Ready?" Ryan's voice broke her thoughts and she quickly wiped away the tears that had formed unnoticed. She turned to look at her son, whose looks so closely mirrored those of his father. She was grateful that he was so much like Chandler -- his looks, his sense of humor, and almost everything about him. Throughout the years, it had almost been like having a different version of Chandler around, though not a replacement, just a reminder.
"Ready," she answered as she opened the car door.
"Ya know, Mom, I know you have issues with getting rid of stuff, but don't you think that driving around in a 19-year-old Explorer is overdoing it just a bit?"
She smiled absently and began to walk toward the familiar spot in the cemetery. Ryan hung back as he always did, giving his mother a chance to go visit first. She trod carefully around the plots that separated her from Chandler's headstone. When she reached it, she gently placed the flowers next to the headstone and brushed away a few branches that had fallen around it.
"Happy birthday, my love," she began. Her eyes filled as she read the headstone: "Chandler Adam Bing, 1969-2003. Loving husband, father, and friend." "I miss you so," she whispered as she twisted her wedding ring. "Eighteen years and I still miss you so." She sighed. "I'll be seeing you soon enough, although no amount of time would be short enough for me." She smiled ironically as she thought back to the diagnosis that had both upset and relieved her only a month beforehand. Leukemia. Her doctors had been surprised when she had refused treatment, but it hadn't been their approval she was seeking. She had spoken with Ryan and although he had been upset and angry that she was not going to fight it, he had eventually understood. Although he had had a happy life and a doting mother, the love that she had felt for her husband and the pain of missing him were something that he could see every day, despite the fact that he had no concrete recollection of his father, apart from the two videotapes that he'd watched so many times that he was surprised that they still ran. She ran her hands over the grass and tried to remember the feel of his skin under her touch. She closed her eyes and as she allowed the spring sun to warm her face, she recalled with perfect clarity the sweetness of his kiss and the loving look in his eyes. After a few moments she opened her eyes again, kissed her fingertips, and pressed them to the ground. "Soon, sweetheart. I'll see you soon." She got up and walked away from the plot, and Ryan took the signal and headed toward his dad's grave.
"Hey, Dad," he greeted. He sat down at the foot of the grave, absently running his fingers through the grass. "I hope you can hear me when I say that. 'Dad.' In the video you told me how badly you wished you could hear it. Well, I hope you can, Dad. I love you. Some people don't understand how I can love you without really remembering you, but I do. You're my dad, and that's all I need to know." He sighed, and after a moment spoke again. "She's giving up. I've never known Mom to give up on anything. She'll argue something until she's blue in the face, but at the first chance to see you again, she's throwing in the towel. I only hope I find a love like that someday." He stopped again, and then looked at the headstone in front of him. "In a weird way, it almost makes sense. I mean, for as long as I can remember, it's like there's been something hanging over her, you know? Nothing big, just something always there, at the back of her mind. And now, it's smaller. I know that it's you... she's finally looking forward to something because every day is a day closer to when she'll be with you again." He paused and resumed running his hands through the grass. "I love you, Dad." With that, he kissed his father's headstone and walked back toward the car.
"Ryan?" Monica called over the music. "In My Life" was blaring from Ryan's room and she had to walk over and bang on the door. It opened and Ryan's face appeared. "Sorry, Mom... couldn't hear you."
"I noticed," she answered, smiling. "Sweetheart, there's something I have to give you."
"Oh, I think I know what it is." Without giving her a chance to respond, he continued. "You saw the error of your ways and ultimately decided that a Porsche was a good idea." His mother smiled.
"Not a chance. No, sweetheart, you know those two videos that I gave you when you were young that your father made for you?" He nodded. "Well, there are seven more."
"What?" he asked, not fully understanding. Those two videotapes of his father were his most precious possessions.
"He made you nine videos, but told me to wait until you were older to give you the other seven." Not knowing what to say, he was silent.
"Can I see them now?" he asked.
"Of course," she answered, and went into her room to retrieve the box she had kept them in. As she handed it to Ryan, he sat down on the couch and opened it carefully, almost as though he was afraid someone would come along and snatch it away from him. He pulled the videos out one at a time and frowned when he had pulled the seventh one out and saw that there was one more at the bottom of the box.
"There's eight more," he said.
"No, your father only made nine of them," Monica corrected him. "Well, there's another one at the bottom of the box," he argued, reaching in to get it. Monica frowned.
"That's weird... that box hasn't been opened since he stuck it in the closet." She took the eighth video from him and turned it over, looking for a title. As she did so, she saw the label on the other side, carefully lettered in Chandler's small handwriting. "Monica, my love." As she opened the video case, however, she saw that it wasn't a video but a CD. Confused and nervous, she turned to Ryan.
"I'll go watch these in my room," he said, understanding what she probably wanted. She nodded absently as she turned the disc over and over in her hands. After a few moments, she put it in the stereo and turned up the volume. Her breath caught when Chandler's voice filled the room.
"Monica, my love, I wanted to make you a video, but I couldn't think of what to say or do. I love you. You were and are my everything. All that was anything in my life was because of you, and loving you was the best thing that ever happened to me. You're my heart, my soul, and my life. You remember that movie we once watched, 'Message in a Bottle'? Well, you are my true north. I love you, always and forever." As his voice stopped, music took over. After the first few chords, Monica recognized it as an Aerosmith song, and then the lyrics began.
I could stay awake,
Just to hear you breathing.
Watch you smile while you are sleeping,
While you're far away and dreaming.
I could spend my life in this sweet surrender,
I could stay lost in this moment forever.
Every moment spent with you is a moment I treasure.
Don't wanna close my eyes,
I don't wanna fall asleep 'cause I miss you, babe,
And I don't wanna miss a thing.
'Cause even when I dream of you,
The sweetest dream will never do,
I still miss you, babe, and I don't wanna miss a thing.
Lying close to you,
Feeling your heart beating.
And I'm wondering what you're dreaming,
Wondering if it's me you're seeing.
Then I kiss your eyes,
And thank God we're together.
I just wanna stay with you
In this moment forever, forever and ever.
I don't wanna close my eyes,
I don't wanna fall asleep
'Cause I miss you, babe, and I don't wanna miss a thing
'Cause even when I dream of you,
The sweetest dream will never do,
I'd still miss you, babe, and I don't wanna miss a thing.
I don't wanna miss one smile,
I don't wanna miss one kiss,
I just wanna be with you, right here with you,
Just like this.
I just wanna hold you close,
Feel your heart so close to mine.
And just stay here in this moment for all the rest of time.
Don't wanna close my eyes,
Don't wanna fall asleep,
'Cause I miss you, babe, and I don't wanna miss a thing.
'Cause even when I dream of you,
The sweetest dream will never do,
I'd still miss you babe, and I don't wanna miss a thing.
The tears dripped down her face as she played with her wedding ring and gazed at the photo of her and Chandler that sat on the dresser. As she wiped away the tears, Chandler's voice came through again. "And one more, Mon. Another song... there are about ten billion that I could put on here that would speak my heart, but you always knew what was in it anyway. And you know right now. I love you. Always." Then, a song that Monica had always loved began.
How do I get through one night without you?
If I had to live without you, what kind of life would that be?
Oh, I need you in my arms need you to hold,
You're my world, my heart, my soul,
If you ever leave, baby you would take away everything good in my life.
And tell me now, how do I live without you?
I want to know.
How I breathe without you?
If you ever go.
How do I ever, ever survive?
How do I, how do I, oh how do I live?
Without you, there'd be no sun in my sky,
There would be no love in my life,
There'd be no world left for me.
And I, baby, I don't know what I would do.
I'd be lost if I lost you, if you ever leave,
Baby, you would take away everything real in my life.
And tell me now, how do I live without you?
I want to know.
How I breathe without you?
If you ever go.
How do I ever, ever survive?
How do I, how do I, oh how do I live?
If you ever leave, baby you would take away everything,
Need you with me.
Baby cause you know you're everything good in my life.
And tell me now, how do I live without you?
I want to know.
How I breathe without you?
If you ever go.
How do I ever, ever survive?
How do I, how do I, oh how do I live
Without you?
She continued to twist her ring and look at the photo, gazing into the deep clear blue of his eyes that she missed endlessly, awaiting the day when she would get to see them again.