"Hello?" Sam answered breathlessly on the third ring. "Oh, hey Nic. What's up?" Chandler walked into the room silently, wondering who was on the phone. "Nicole," Sam mouthed silently, and he nodded in response. "Yeah, we got back last night... I was going to call you, but it was pretty late." Pause. "We. My dad and I." Chandler averted his gaze and tried to hide the small smile that crept over his face at the word "Dad." The past few days had been such a blur, and he couldn't seem to remember having a coherent thought since Sam had first shown up. His mind was awhirl with thoughts and his heart awhirl with emotions. He constantly caught himself staring at her, unable to believe she was actually his daughter. She was so smart, and so beautiful... the idea of her being his child was almost incomprehensible. His thoughts were interrupted as Sam spoke again. "Yeah, well, since it's a weekend, visitors' hours aren't until after midday, so we're going to go then." Chandler's eyes widened and he stiffened. It was obvious that she was talking about visiting Monica. He didn't know what to expect, and that alone terrified him almost as much as the idea of seeing her again. As she hung up the phone, Chandler realized that the gang was probably wondering where he was. He had only left them a note saying that he'd had to leave because something had come up, and he knew that by now they were probably pretty concerned.
"Is it okay if I use your phone?" he asked. "I just want to call my roommate and let him and my friends know where I am."
"Sure," Sam said with a wave. "Go for it." He nodded his appreciation, picked up the phone and dialed the number to his apartment. Joey answered on the first ring, a sure sign that he had been waiting for a call. It was rare that he answered the phone at all, let alone so quickly.
"Hey, Joe," Chandler greeted. "It's me."
"Dude, where the hell have you been? We've all been worried sick... Rachel's been driving us nuts, she's so paranoid."
"Sorry, man, something came up..." His voice trailed off as he heard Rachel's high-pitched voice in the background, and suddenly she was on the phone, probably having snatched it out of Joey's grasp.
"Chandler?! Oh, thank God you're okay. I was so worried! Where the hell are you? Why didn't you call me?"
"Rach, calm down, I'm fine. I'm in North Carolina."
"North Carolina? What on earth are you doing in North Carolina?"
"Um..." Chandler wondered if he should tell her what was going on, but he realized resignedly that he simply didn't have the energy to deal with telling any lies. He took a deep breath. "Are you sitting down?" He heard her sigh in frustration.
"Y'know, Chandler, I really hate it when you begin like that..."
"I found Monica," he interrupted. There was a momentary pause.
"WHAT?!?!" she shrieked, practically deafening him.
"Well, I didn't exactly find her. She found me. In a way." When he got no response, he took it as a sign that she was confused, so he continued. "Her daughter showed up at my apartment the other morning. Well, our daughter. The one I never knew about. She came to find me because Monica's in the hospital as a result of a car accident. I haven't seen her yet -- we're going to visit her later today, but I thought I should at least call you and let you know where I was." Having nothing more to say, he stopped. "Rach?" he asked after a moment of silence.
"Wha- uh- hum- fa-" Suddenly Joey was back on the phone.
"Man, what did you tell her? I don't think I've ever seen Rachel at a loss for words."
"Just make sure she's okay, all right, Joe? I'll call you guys again later. Rachel will fill you in. I have to go now, though, so I'll talk to you later. Say hey to Ross and Phoebe for me, okay?" He hung up before Joey could bombard him with questions and turned to see Sam watching him intently.
"Is Rachel your girlfriend?" she asked quietly. She knew that he was perfectly allowed to have a girlfriend, and even a wife, but the idea of him leaving and going back to another family when she'd only just found him seemed so unfair, and it was almost too depressing a thought to bear. He smiled slightly, reassuringly.
"No, Rachel's not my girlfriend. She's my best friend." He hesitated for a moment. "Actually, she was your mom's best friend in high school. They were roommates in college... that's how I met her." Sam smiled at that... another detail about her mother's past. She wondered if she'd ever get to meet these people who had been such a huge part of her mom's life so many years ago. As she looked at Chandler, she knew that although it would be nice to meet them, she would be perfectly content to just have him in her life. The father that she had wanted for so long. She had been so afraid to go to New York to look for him, terrified that he would be some low-life jerk who would deny ever having known her mother, and that she's be put into foster care, or worse. She'd hardly dared hope that the Chandler Bing on her birth certificate would agree to sign the papers, let alone want to get to know her. She smiled again, and headed for her room to get dressed to go to the hospital.
"She's on the third floor," Sam told him as she punched the elevator button. He simply nodded, nervous and speechless. His knuckles were white as he gripped onto the flowers he'd brought for Monica's room. As the elevator reached the third floor, Sam walked through the doors and turned right. Chandler followed slowly behind her, feeling as though his shoes were filled with lead. She made her way down the hallway efficiently, as she'd practically been living there for the past two weeks and knew many of the on-call nurses already. Chandler lagged behind, trying to fight the urge to turn and run. Run anywhere, just as long as it was in the opposite direction. After all, what was he supposed to do or say when confronted with the woman who he had loved so much and who had broken his heart all those years ago? The mother of his recently discovered daughter who had left him without any explanation? He suddenly felt suffocated and a panic took over, urging him to turn and run, but he couldn't. It was as if his legs had taken control and he was simply in autopilot, following Sam toward the end of the hallway. She paused outside one of the doors and turned to face him, waiting for him to catch up. Before she could enter the room, she heard a voice from behind her.
"Well, hello, Miss Geller." She turned to see the middle-aged doctor who she had come to know quite well over the course of Monica's hospital stay, smiling and holding a clipboard.
"Hey, Dr. Mitchell," she replied. "How is everything?"
"Well, things seem to be going fine. Not much change since you left, but that can, of course, be a good thing." He smiled reassuringly and then noticed Chandler standing anxiously to the side.
"Dr. Mitchell, this is my dad," Sam introduced. "Chandler Bing." Chandler silently accepted the handshake that he offered and nodded, not trusting his voice.
"Nice to meet you," the doctor greeted. "Well, Miss Geller, I'm about to go on my rounds, but I'll stop in and check up on you afterwards, okay?"
"Sure. Thanks," Sam replied as he walked away. She turned to face Chandler. "Ready?" He shook his head. She took a hold of his arm and gently coaxed him into the room as she pushed open the door. Not quite ready to see anything horrific, Chandler looked at his shoes as Sam left his side and went toward Monica's bedside. As he stared at the floor, he could hear Sam pull up a chair next to her mother and greet her quietly. After a few moments, Sam got up and walked toward him. "She won't bite you," she teased gently. When he didn't respond, she sighed. "I'm going to get some coffee from the cafeteria. I'll be back in a little while."
"I'll come," he said quickly. She smiled sympathetically and squeezed his arm. He nodded, knowing what she was telling him, and watched her leave. He turned to look at last into Monica's face, the face he had thought about and missed for sixteen years, and almost gasped as he did so. Upon seeing her again, he was transported back in time, remembering what it felt like to caress her cheek and to look into her eyes. He wished that her eyes were open so that he could see the deep blue that had comforted him so, but at the same time he was glad that he didn't have to explain anything yet. Just the sight of her had brought with it a flood of emotions that almost overwhelmed him. He slowly walked over to her bedside, placing the flowers gently on the stand next to her bed. He sat in the chair and gazed at her, remembering all the time he'd spent gazing at her so many years ago. He could see the faint scars that had already almost healed and noticed the casts on her arm and leg. The respirator that she was on was the only sound in the room until he eventually spoke.
"Oh, Monica," he whispered when he was finally able to. He timidly reached out and brushed her cheek with his fingertips, as if to reassure himself that she was actually there, in front of him. Once he was assured, he leaned back in the chair and let himself be transported back.
"You okay?" Sam asked when they got home. Chandler hadn't said a word since they left the hospital, and she was wondering what was on his mind. He simply nodded, staring out the apartment window. "Want some coffee?" He shook his head and, after a few moments, turned to face her.
"What am I going to say to her?" he asked, having obviously been worrying about it for some time. Sam sighed and sat down on the couch.
"Look, from what I can gather about your past, it's not you who owes an explanation. It's her. You haven't done anything wrong, and there's nothing that needs explaining, right?"
"Yeah," he said, not sounding at all convinced. "But what right do I have to just come barging into her life?" Sam stood up and answered firmly.
"You're my father. You have EVERY right to be in MY life, and therefore you have every right to be a part of hers. You're my parents, and regardless of what happened between you years ago, you're going to have to deal with each other now, because I'm not letting either one of you leave my life now." Chandler sighed and, seeming somewhat reassured, joined her on the couch.
"I'm just nervous," he said quietly. "I just..." his voice trailed off as he tried to think of what he wanted to say. "I loved her so much," he said, his voice shaking. "And when I was looking at her today, even without her looking back at me, I felt it all again. I don't know how I can be so angry at her and love her so much at the same time. Plus, how much sense does it make to be in love with someone who you haven't seen for a decade and a half?" He sighed and shook his head, trying to clear it of the jumble of thoughts that dominated him. Sam squeezed his hand reassuringly and didn't answer, letting the silence between them linger.
Chandler was surprised the next morning to awaken early to find Sam sitting in the kitchen, drinking coffee and looking exhausted. "Morning," he said, concerned. "You okay?"
"The hospital called at two o'clock this morning," she said warily. Chandler felt his heart skip as he awaited what he feared to be terrible news. "She woke up, so I went down to see her." She paused and took a sip of her coffee, then continued. "I didn't want to wake you up, so I just went to visit her for a little while. She was pretty tired and they said that she needed to rest and they had to do some work, but that we could go back during visitors' hours." She looked up at him and awaited a response. He sank down into the chair next to her, a mix of relief, trepidation, and anticipation.
"How was she?" he asked calmly.
"Good," Sam replied. "The doctors think she's going to make a full recovery... waking up was the hard part, or so I was told." He could see in her face that she was trying to hide the grin that threatened to creep out, so he forced a smile to reassure her. Her face broke into one, and she bounced up from the table, suddenly lively. "I'm going to call Nic," she said as she dashed into the other room. Chandler slowly rose from the table and went to get dressed for the hospital.
"You go in first," Chandler said as they stood in the elevator. Sam turned to face him.
"You sure?"
"Yeah," he said with a nod.
"I didn't tell her you were here," she said, slightly worried.
"That's okay," he replied. "She'll find out soon enough." They exited the elevator, and Chandler watched as Sam dashed ahead and into Monica's room. He sluggishly took a seat outside the room and leaned his head back against the wall. After what seemed like mere seconds but in reality was over fifteen minutes, the door opened again and Sam bounded out, smiling. She hovered over Chandler as he opened his eyes.
"Go see her," she coaxed him. "I told her she had a visitor." Chandler stood up, suddenly stricken with fear, and nervously ran his hands through his hair.
"Do I look okay?" he asked, smoothing his shirt. Sam smiled.
"You look great," she assured him, pushing him gently toward the door. He took a deep breath and opened it.
As Monica heard the door open, she opened her eyes and was shocked at what she saw. Thinking she was either dreaming or hallucinating from her medication, she blinked a few times in a vain attempt to clear her vision. When his voice cut through the air, she realized that it was neither a dream nor a hallucination.
"Hello, Monica." He gazed at her face, which he was sure mirrored the expression his had held when he'd first encountered Sam. Her piercing blue eyes were wide with shock, and her face was pale. He wondered whether that was because of her medical condition or his presence, but ultimately decided that it was probably a combination of both.
"Ch- Chandler?" She choked out the name, not daring to believe that it was he who was standing in front of her. He looked exactly as she remembered him, although a little bit older, a change that suited him. He nodded and gestured toward the flowers on her bedside.
"I was here yesterday, but..." he trailed off, unsure of how to end it. She peeked at the flowers and turned to face him again.
"Thank you. They're beautiful." Her eyes filled with tears when she saw that the majority of the bouquet were daisies. He'd remembered. As the air grew thick with tension, she cleared her throat. "What- What are you doing here?" she stammered. She thought she saw his eyes narrow slightly as he sat down in a chair to the side of her bed.
"Sam came and found me," he replied simply. Monica closed her eyes. She knew that she owed him such a huge explanation and apology, and she hadn't the slightest idea of where to begin.
"Chandler," she began, but was cut off by him.
"Not now, Monica," he interrupted, knowing fully well what subject she was going to address. "We'll have plenty of time for all that later. I'm going to be here for awhile." Her expression flickered, and he wondered whether it was contentment or fear. "Right now, just work on getting out of here, okay?" She simply nodded, dumbfounded, and watched as he quickly and quietly left the room. She let her head fall back against her pillow, her head spinning. She'd dreamt of what it would be like to see him again since the day she left New York, and now that dream had come true, but at the same time she was terrified. Now she would have to see the agony that she had caused, and she didn't know how on earth she was going to make it up to him. She closed her eyes, fearful that he would never forgive her and that she'd have to live knowing it. Unaware of the tear that trickled out of the corner of her eye, she tried to push the thoughts out of her mind as she fell asleep.
"Yeah, right," Chandler said laughing, as he stopped the car at a red light.
"It's true," Sam said with a giggle. "I actually said it to his face." Chandler laughed again as he stepped on the gas and left the hospital parking lot a week later. As Monica watched from the backseat, she couldn't believe what she was seeing. There were so many times when she had imagined what it would be like for Chandler and Sam to know each other, and now she saw that she no longer had to wonder. She sat silently with her encased leg propped up across the backseat, just listening to them laugh together. Sam seemed so at ease with him, and she wondered how long he had been in North Carolina. Monica smiled when she saw how well they got along. She had always noticed that Sam had Chandler's sense of humor, and it was even more obvious as they sat in the car joking together. She found herself gazing at Chandler, her eyes locked on him and unable to let go, almost as though she was afraid that if she looked away, he would disappear. She wished that she could see his baby blue eyes from where she was sitting, but at the same time, she knew that she would never have the courage to look into them. She was too afraid of unleashing the anger that she was sure existed below the surface. Monica found that she was almost relieved that Sam had found Chandler so that she wouldn't ever have to be the one to break the news to him, although she knew that the harder part would be the explanation and the apology that she knew loomed in the near future. Fifteen minutes later, Chandler parked the car outside the apartment and got out to help Monica. Once they were out of the car, Sam turned to Mon. "Mom, is it okay if I take the car and go to Nic's for a little while?" Monica immediately tensed when she realized that she would be alone with Chandler if Sam left. Unable to think of a reason to say no and not wanting Chandler to think she was avoiding him, she nodded. "Thanks, Mom," Sam answered happily and gave her a peck on the cheek. "'Bye, Dad," she said, jumped in the car, and drove off.
"C'mon," he encouraged Monica as he helped her slowly up the stairs toward her apartment.
"Thanks," she said quietly as he handed her a cup of coffee. He nodded and took a seat next to her on the couch. "So," she began, trying to break the uncomfortable silence that had surrounded them since they got home. "How long have you been here?"
"Week and a half," he replied shortly.
"Oh." She took a sip of her coffee and turned the mug around in her hands, afraid to look at him. When he realized that she wasn't going to broach the subject, Chandler sighed.
"Why, Monica?" he asked gently.
"Why what?" she answered meekly, knowing perfectly well what he was talking about. He moved and sat on the coffee table in front of her so that she had to face him.
"You know what," he said, slightly annoyed but still gently. "Why did you leave me? Because of Sam?" The way he said it made her leaving seem like such an extreme way out of a simple situation, and she suddenly felt foolish. She nodded slightly and he sighed. "Why?" She shrugged, not knowing what to tell him. He sat silently for a few moments, and then spoke again. "Did you think I'd leave you?" he asked gently, his voice implying that her thinking so was ridiculous. For the first time since they'd sat down, she let herself look at him and shrugged.
"It wasn't so much that," she began, barely above a whisper. Chandler could feel the anger that he had suppressed so well begin to mount.
"Well, what then?" She took a deep breath and tried to explain the reasoning that suddenly seemed so absurd.
"We were so young," she began, looking into his eyes that demanded an explanation. "So young," she repeated. "I found out a month before finals that I was pregnant, and I was so scared. I knew I couldn't have an abortion, and I knew that I could never give up my baby for adoption. But at the same time, I didn't want to ruin your adolescence." She paused, unsure of how to continue. "We were both so young, and I didn't want what we had to be ruined because of a baby. I couldn't bear the thought of you resenting me for taking away your youth, and I couldn't bear the thought of doing so. I thought I was doing the right thing... I didn't want your future to be decided by a consequence, so I thought that if I left, you could get on with your life and be everything you could be. I didn't want to hold you back," she finished, averting her eyes once again.
"And you don't think missing you for sixteen years has held me back?" he asked, his voice a mixture of annoyance and tenderness. "Wondering where you were, why you left? If you were okay? Jesus, Mon, I was destroyed when you left me. And I can't believe that you didn't think you could tell me... you knew how much I loved you." Monica noticed that he said "loved," and she wondered if he would ever love her again, or at least forgive her. He stood up, feeling his anger get the better of him. "How could you leave me?" he demanded. "Do you have any idea what you did to me?" She dropped her head in shame, feeling her eyes sting as the forming tears threatened to spill over. "To just leave... no explanation, nothing. And what about your family, and Rach? What the hell were you thinking?" She shook her head and brushed away the tears that had fallen, looking up at him once again.
"I was trying to do the right thing... mostly for you," she said, hoping that he would at least understand why it had seemed like a good idea at the time.
"By not letting me know my own child? By breaking my heart? By making me think I wasn't good enough? Which part of that exactly was 'for my own good'?" he challenged. Although she knew that she had little if any right to get angry, she could feel herself getting defensive.
"Please, Chandler... please try and understand..."
"No," he interrupted. "I'll never be able to understand this." With that, he turned and walked out, needing to get away, if only for the space to think. Monica watched his retreating figure helplessly as she let the tears freely fall.
"Mom, I'm home," Sam called as she threw the car keys on the table inside the apartment door. "Mom?" She walked quietly into the kitchen to find Monica sitting at the kitchen table with an album open in front of her. As she entered, Monica looked up and tried to smile.
"Hi, sweetheart," she greeted her quietly.
"Is everything okay?" Sam asked, worried. She noted that Chandler didn't appear to be in the apartment, and she prayed that he hadn't gone back to New York. Monica ignored the question and simply patted the seat next to her. Sam obediently sat down and gestured toward the album on the table. "What's that?" Her mother was silent for a moment before responding.
"This is from before you were born," she began. "Photos." She gestured toward a carton the size of a shoebox on the floor next to her. "And old letters and stuff," she added in a low voice. "I guess it's time that I told you about me," she finished, not sounding like she wanted to do so at all. She turned the book of photographs so that it was facing Sam and pointed to the first picture. "My prom," she said with a sad smile. As Sam examined every detail the photograph held, she felt a rush of combined happiness and sorrow hit her when she saw the smiles on her parents' young faces. She turned and looked into her mother's face and winced when she saw the hurt that it clearly held. Monica looked back at her, trying not to cry, but when she looked into Sam's face and recognized, as she had so many times in the past, how much she looked like her father, she couldn't hold back any longer and burst into tears.
"Calm down, man, she's fine now," Chandler repeated into the phone. "Yes, I'm sure." Pause. "Broken leg." Pause. "A week." Another pause, followed by a sigh. "Charlotte. Yeah, North Carolina. I don't know how long, all I know is that she lives here now." As he listened to Ross's near-hysterical questioning, Chandler took another mouthful of his beer. "Right now? In a bar near their apartment." Pause. "They. Her and Sam." Pause. "Her daughter." He moved the phone away from his ear as Ross's voice turned into a screech, from which he gathered that Rachel hadn't, as he had initially assumed, told Ross. "Look, why don't you just come, like you said, and everything can be explained then?" A momentary silence. "Okay... I'll call you in an hour to get your flight details, okay?" After saying goodbye, he hung up, finished his drink, and headed out of the bar and back to Monica and Sam's apartment.
"Where's Sam?" he asked coolly when he returned.
"She went to spend the night at Nicole's house," Monica answered carefully. "I told her all about us... our past..." she trailed off, uncertain of how to continue.
"Well, better late than never," Chandler answered icily. Monica bowed her head, realizing that it was going to be awhile before he forgave her, if he ever did. He sighed. "Look, Monica, I don't want to fight." She lifted her eyes once again and he recognized the hopeful look in them. "But I'm still angry," he continued. "I still... I don't know what to say. I don't know how I'm supposed to feel about this. I mean, you leave, you break my heart, and then sixteen years later, some girl shows up and tells me that she's my long lost daughter? This almost sounds like something my mother would write, minus the kinky details." He ran a hand through his hair as he sighed. Monica remained silent, knowing that there was nothing she could say that would give him any answers. "I love Sam," he went on. "I've only known her for eleven days, and yet I love her as though I've known her for all her life. But I just... I don't know what I'm supposed to do here." It was then that he realized that Monica was crying, and he took a step toward her and lifted her chin so that she was looking into his eyes. It was the first time that he'd let himself just look at her, and as he did, he could feel something deep within, a feeling that he knew he hadn't felt for years. The piercing blue of her eyes brought with it memories of the past. As she gazed back at him intently, he could remember with perfect clarity the sweetness of her kiss and the way her hair smelled. He could vividly recall the way she would whisper a soft "I love you" in his ear and how her delicate hands fit so perfectly in his own. He reminisced about the nights they had spent together in his dorm room, and the night of her prom. When he realized how long ago that was and how many years had been lost since, he felt his heart grow heavier. He noticed that it was no longer heavy with anger, but with regret. Regret that he'd missed the birth of his child and remorse at knowing that he hadn't seen her first steps or heard her first word. Regret that so many years of what could have been happiness and love had been wasted. The anger he had felt toward Monica slowly evaporated as she looked back at him and he recognized a similar pain that was mirrored in her own eyes. Without realizing that he was doing so, he reached up and gently brushed away her tears. His eyes were locked on hers as they silently shared the emotions that each had felt for so long. Slowly and hesitantly, he leaned in closer to her as she gazed up at him, feeling the fear and longing take over. Both sets of pained eyes closed as their lips met in a gentle kiss that each had awaited for so long. Momentarily losing themselves in the kiss, they found themselves in a tight embrace as the kiss deepened. Then, suddenly, roughly, Chandler pulled away and stepped back quickly. "I- I'm sorry," he stammered. "I... I can't." As he backed away from her, unwilling to look her in the eyes, he apologized again and retreated to his room, closing the door behind him as Monica sank back onto the couch, emotionally and physically drained, wondering if there would ever again come a time when they would share the kisses that had made her fall in love with him.
"Is it okay if I use your phone?" he asked. "I just want to call my roommate and let him and my friends know where I am."
"Sure," Sam said with a wave. "Go for it." He nodded his appreciation, picked up the phone and dialed the number to his apartment. Joey answered on the first ring, a sure sign that he had been waiting for a call. It was rare that he answered the phone at all, let alone so quickly.
"Hey, Joe," Chandler greeted. "It's me."
"Dude, where the hell have you been? We've all been worried sick... Rachel's been driving us nuts, she's so paranoid."
"Sorry, man, something came up..." His voice trailed off as he heard Rachel's high-pitched voice in the background, and suddenly she was on the phone, probably having snatched it out of Joey's grasp.
"Chandler?! Oh, thank God you're okay. I was so worried! Where the hell are you? Why didn't you call me?"
"Rach, calm down, I'm fine. I'm in North Carolina."
"North Carolina? What on earth are you doing in North Carolina?"
"Um..." Chandler wondered if he should tell her what was going on, but he realized resignedly that he simply didn't have the energy to deal with telling any lies. He took a deep breath. "Are you sitting down?" He heard her sigh in frustration.
"Y'know, Chandler, I really hate it when you begin like that..."
"I found Monica," he interrupted. There was a momentary pause.
"WHAT?!?!" she shrieked, practically deafening him.
"Well, I didn't exactly find her. She found me. In a way." When he got no response, he took it as a sign that she was confused, so he continued. "Her daughter showed up at my apartment the other morning. Well, our daughter. The one I never knew about. She came to find me because Monica's in the hospital as a result of a car accident. I haven't seen her yet -- we're going to visit her later today, but I thought I should at least call you and let you know where I was." Having nothing more to say, he stopped. "Rach?" he asked after a moment of silence.
"Wha- uh- hum- fa-" Suddenly Joey was back on the phone.
"Man, what did you tell her? I don't think I've ever seen Rachel at a loss for words."
"Just make sure she's okay, all right, Joe? I'll call you guys again later. Rachel will fill you in. I have to go now, though, so I'll talk to you later. Say hey to Ross and Phoebe for me, okay?" He hung up before Joey could bombard him with questions and turned to see Sam watching him intently.
"Is Rachel your girlfriend?" she asked quietly. She knew that he was perfectly allowed to have a girlfriend, and even a wife, but the idea of him leaving and going back to another family when she'd only just found him seemed so unfair, and it was almost too depressing a thought to bear. He smiled slightly, reassuringly.
"No, Rachel's not my girlfriend. She's my best friend." He hesitated for a moment. "Actually, she was your mom's best friend in high school. They were roommates in college... that's how I met her." Sam smiled at that... another detail about her mother's past. She wondered if she'd ever get to meet these people who had been such a huge part of her mom's life so many years ago. As she looked at Chandler, she knew that although it would be nice to meet them, she would be perfectly content to just have him in her life. The father that she had wanted for so long. She had been so afraid to go to New York to look for him, terrified that he would be some low-life jerk who would deny ever having known her mother, and that she's be put into foster care, or worse. She'd hardly dared hope that the Chandler Bing on her birth certificate would agree to sign the papers, let alone want to get to know her. She smiled again, and headed for her room to get dressed to go to the hospital.
"She's on the third floor," Sam told him as she punched the elevator button. He simply nodded, nervous and speechless. His knuckles were white as he gripped onto the flowers he'd brought for Monica's room. As the elevator reached the third floor, Sam walked through the doors and turned right. Chandler followed slowly behind her, feeling as though his shoes were filled with lead. She made her way down the hallway efficiently, as she'd practically been living there for the past two weeks and knew many of the on-call nurses already. Chandler lagged behind, trying to fight the urge to turn and run. Run anywhere, just as long as it was in the opposite direction. After all, what was he supposed to do or say when confronted with the woman who he had loved so much and who had broken his heart all those years ago? The mother of his recently discovered daughter who had left him without any explanation? He suddenly felt suffocated and a panic took over, urging him to turn and run, but he couldn't. It was as if his legs had taken control and he was simply in autopilot, following Sam toward the end of the hallway. She paused outside one of the doors and turned to face him, waiting for him to catch up. Before she could enter the room, she heard a voice from behind her.
"Well, hello, Miss Geller." She turned to see the middle-aged doctor who she had come to know quite well over the course of Monica's hospital stay, smiling and holding a clipboard.
"Hey, Dr. Mitchell," she replied. "How is everything?"
"Well, things seem to be going fine. Not much change since you left, but that can, of course, be a good thing." He smiled reassuringly and then noticed Chandler standing anxiously to the side.
"Dr. Mitchell, this is my dad," Sam introduced. "Chandler Bing." Chandler silently accepted the handshake that he offered and nodded, not trusting his voice.
"Nice to meet you," the doctor greeted. "Well, Miss Geller, I'm about to go on my rounds, but I'll stop in and check up on you afterwards, okay?"
"Sure. Thanks," Sam replied as he walked away. She turned to face Chandler. "Ready?" He shook his head. She took a hold of his arm and gently coaxed him into the room as she pushed open the door. Not quite ready to see anything horrific, Chandler looked at his shoes as Sam left his side and went toward Monica's bedside. As he stared at the floor, he could hear Sam pull up a chair next to her mother and greet her quietly. After a few moments, Sam got up and walked toward him. "She won't bite you," she teased gently. When he didn't respond, she sighed. "I'm going to get some coffee from the cafeteria. I'll be back in a little while."
"I'll come," he said quickly. She smiled sympathetically and squeezed his arm. He nodded, knowing what she was telling him, and watched her leave. He turned to look at last into Monica's face, the face he had thought about and missed for sixteen years, and almost gasped as he did so. Upon seeing her again, he was transported back in time, remembering what it felt like to caress her cheek and to look into her eyes. He wished that her eyes were open so that he could see the deep blue that had comforted him so, but at the same time he was glad that he didn't have to explain anything yet. Just the sight of her had brought with it a flood of emotions that almost overwhelmed him. He slowly walked over to her bedside, placing the flowers gently on the stand next to her bed. He sat in the chair and gazed at her, remembering all the time he'd spent gazing at her so many years ago. He could see the faint scars that had already almost healed and noticed the casts on her arm and leg. The respirator that she was on was the only sound in the room until he eventually spoke.
"Oh, Monica," he whispered when he was finally able to. He timidly reached out and brushed her cheek with his fingertips, as if to reassure himself that she was actually there, in front of him. Once he was assured, he leaned back in the chair and let himself be transported back.
"You okay?" Sam asked when they got home. Chandler hadn't said a word since they left the hospital, and she was wondering what was on his mind. He simply nodded, staring out the apartment window. "Want some coffee?" He shook his head and, after a few moments, turned to face her.
"What am I going to say to her?" he asked, having obviously been worrying about it for some time. Sam sighed and sat down on the couch.
"Look, from what I can gather about your past, it's not you who owes an explanation. It's her. You haven't done anything wrong, and there's nothing that needs explaining, right?"
"Yeah," he said, not sounding at all convinced. "But what right do I have to just come barging into her life?" Sam stood up and answered firmly.
"You're my father. You have EVERY right to be in MY life, and therefore you have every right to be a part of hers. You're my parents, and regardless of what happened between you years ago, you're going to have to deal with each other now, because I'm not letting either one of you leave my life now." Chandler sighed and, seeming somewhat reassured, joined her on the couch.
"I'm just nervous," he said quietly. "I just..." his voice trailed off as he tried to think of what he wanted to say. "I loved her so much," he said, his voice shaking. "And when I was looking at her today, even without her looking back at me, I felt it all again. I don't know how I can be so angry at her and love her so much at the same time. Plus, how much sense does it make to be in love with someone who you haven't seen for a decade and a half?" He sighed and shook his head, trying to clear it of the jumble of thoughts that dominated him. Sam squeezed his hand reassuringly and didn't answer, letting the silence between them linger.
Chandler was surprised the next morning to awaken early to find Sam sitting in the kitchen, drinking coffee and looking exhausted. "Morning," he said, concerned. "You okay?"
"The hospital called at two o'clock this morning," she said warily. Chandler felt his heart skip as he awaited what he feared to be terrible news. "She woke up, so I went down to see her." She paused and took a sip of her coffee, then continued. "I didn't want to wake you up, so I just went to visit her for a little while. She was pretty tired and they said that she needed to rest and they had to do some work, but that we could go back during visitors' hours." She looked up at him and awaited a response. He sank down into the chair next to her, a mix of relief, trepidation, and anticipation.
"How was she?" he asked calmly.
"Good," Sam replied. "The doctors think she's going to make a full recovery... waking up was the hard part, or so I was told." He could see in her face that she was trying to hide the grin that threatened to creep out, so he forced a smile to reassure her. Her face broke into one, and she bounced up from the table, suddenly lively. "I'm going to call Nic," she said as she dashed into the other room. Chandler slowly rose from the table and went to get dressed for the hospital.
"You go in first," Chandler said as they stood in the elevator. Sam turned to face him.
"You sure?"
"Yeah," he said with a nod.
"I didn't tell her you were here," she said, slightly worried.
"That's okay," he replied. "She'll find out soon enough." They exited the elevator, and Chandler watched as Sam dashed ahead and into Monica's room. He sluggishly took a seat outside the room and leaned his head back against the wall. After what seemed like mere seconds but in reality was over fifteen minutes, the door opened again and Sam bounded out, smiling. She hovered over Chandler as he opened his eyes.
"Go see her," she coaxed him. "I told her she had a visitor." Chandler stood up, suddenly stricken with fear, and nervously ran his hands through his hair.
"Do I look okay?" he asked, smoothing his shirt. Sam smiled.
"You look great," she assured him, pushing him gently toward the door. He took a deep breath and opened it.
As Monica heard the door open, she opened her eyes and was shocked at what she saw. Thinking she was either dreaming or hallucinating from her medication, she blinked a few times in a vain attempt to clear her vision. When his voice cut through the air, she realized that it was neither a dream nor a hallucination.
"Hello, Monica." He gazed at her face, which he was sure mirrored the expression his had held when he'd first encountered Sam. Her piercing blue eyes were wide with shock, and her face was pale. He wondered whether that was because of her medical condition or his presence, but ultimately decided that it was probably a combination of both.
"Ch- Chandler?" She choked out the name, not daring to believe that it was he who was standing in front of her. He looked exactly as she remembered him, although a little bit older, a change that suited him. He nodded and gestured toward the flowers on her bedside.
"I was here yesterday, but..." he trailed off, unsure of how to end it. She peeked at the flowers and turned to face him again.
"Thank you. They're beautiful." Her eyes filled with tears when she saw that the majority of the bouquet were daisies. He'd remembered. As the air grew thick with tension, she cleared her throat. "What- What are you doing here?" she stammered. She thought she saw his eyes narrow slightly as he sat down in a chair to the side of her bed.
"Sam came and found me," he replied simply. Monica closed her eyes. She knew that she owed him such a huge explanation and apology, and she hadn't the slightest idea of where to begin.
"Chandler," she began, but was cut off by him.
"Not now, Monica," he interrupted, knowing fully well what subject she was going to address. "We'll have plenty of time for all that later. I'm going to be here for awhile." Her expression flickered, and he wondered whether it was contentment or fear. "Right now, just work on getting out of here, okay?" She simply nodded, dumbfounded, and watched as he quickly and quietly left the room. She let her head fall back against her pillow, her head spinning. She'd dreamt of what it would be like to see him again since the day she left New York, and now that dream had come true, but at the same time she was terrified. Now she would have to see the agony that she had caused, and she didn't know how on earth she was going to make it up to him. She closed her eyes, fearful that he would never forgive her and that she'd have to live knowing it. Unaware of the tear that trickled out of the corner of her eye, she tried to push the thoughts out of her mind as she fell asleep.
"Yeah, right," Chandler said laughing, as he stopped the car at a red light.
"It's true," Sam said with a giggle. "I actually said it to his face." Chandler laughed again as he stepped on the gas and left the hospital parking lot a week later. As Monica watched from the backseat, she couldn't believe what she was seeing. There were so many times when she had imagined what it would be like for Chandler and Sam to know each other, and now she saw that she no longer had to wonder. She sat silently with her encased leg propped up across the backseat, just listening to them laugh together. Sam seemed so at ease with him, and she wondered how long he had been in North Carolina. Monica smiled when she saw how well they got along. She had always noticed that Sam had Chandler's sense of humor, and it was even more obvious as they sat in the car joking together. She found herself gazing at Chandler, her eyes locked on him and unable to let go, almost as though she was afraid that if she looked away, he would disappear. She wished that she could see his baby blue eyes from where she was sitting, but at the same time, she knew that she would never have the courage to look into them. She was too afraid of unleashing the anger that she was sure existed below the surface. Monica found that she was almost relieved that Sam had found Chandler so that she wouldn't ever have to be the one to break the news to him, although she knew that the harder part would be the explanation and the apology that she knew loomed in the near future. Fifteen minutes later, Chandler parked the car outside the apartment and got out to help Monica. Once they were out of the car, Sam turned to Mon. "Mom, is it okay if I take the car and go to Nic's for a little while?" Monica immediately tensed when she realized that she would be alone with Chandler if Sam left. Unable to think of a reason to say no and not wanting Chandler to think she was avoiding him, she nodded. "Thanks, Mom," Sam answered happily and gave her a peck on the cheek. "'Bye, Dad," she said, jumped in the car, and drove off.
"C'mon," he encouraged Monica as he helped her slowly up the stairs toward her apartment.
"Thanks," she said quietly as he handed her a cup of coffee. He nodded and took a seat next to her on the couch. "So," she began, trying to break the uncomfortable silence that had surrounded them since they got home. "How long have you been here?"
"Week and a half," he replied shortly.
"Oh." She took a sip of her coffee and turned the mug around in her hands, afraid to look at him. When he realized that she wasn't going to broach the subject, Chandler sighed.
"Why, Monica?" he asked gently.
"Why what?" she answered meekly, knowing perfectly well what he was talking about. He moved and sat on the coffee table in front of her so that she had to face him.
"You know what," he said, slightly annoyed but still gently. "Why did you leave me? Because of Sam?" The way he said it made her leaving seem like such an extreme way out of a simple situation, and she suddenly felt foolish. She nodded slightly and he sighed. "Why?" She shrugged, not knowing what to tell him. He sat silently for a few moments, and then spoke again. "Did you think I'd leave you?" he asked gently, his voice implying that her thinking so was ridiculous. For the first time since they'd sat down, she let herself look at him and shrugged.
"It wasn't so much that," she began, barely above a whisper. Chandler could feel the anger that he had suppressed so well begin to mount.
"Well, what then?" She took a deep breath and tried to explain the reasoning that suddenly seemed so absurd.
"We were so young," she began, looking into his eyes that demanded an explanation. "So young," she repeated. "I found out a month before finals that I was pregnant, and I was so scared. I knew I couldn't have an abortion, and I knew that I could never give up my baby for adoption. But at the same time, I didn't want to ruin your adolescence." She paused, unsure of how to continue. "We were both so young, and I didn't want what we had to be ruined because of a baby. I couldn't bear the thought of you resenting me for taking away your youth, and I couldn't bear the thought of doing so. I thought I was doing the right thing... I didn't want your future to be decided by a consequence, so I thought that if I left, you could get on with your life and be everything you could be. I didn't want to hold you back," she finished, averting her eyes once again.
"And you don't think missing you for sixteen years has held me back?" he asked, his voice a mixture of annoyance and tenderness. "Wondering where you were, why you left? If you were okay? Jesus, Mon, I was destroyed when you left me. And I can't believe that you didn't think you could tell me... you knew how much I loved you." Monica noticed that he said "loved," and she wondered if he would ever love her again, or at least forgive her. He stood up, feeling his anger get the better of him. "How could you leave me?" he demanded. "Do you have any idea what you did to me?" She dropped her head in shame, feeling her eyes sting as the forming tears threatened to spill over. "To just leave... no explanation, nothing. And what about your family, and Rach? What the hell were you thinking?" She shook her head and brushed away the tears that had fallen, looking up at him once again.
"I was trying to do the right thing... mostly for you," she said, hoping that he would at least understand why it had seemed like a good idea at the time.
"By not letting me know my own child? By breaking my heart? By making me think I wasn't good enough? Which part of that exactly was 'for my own good'?" he challenged. Although she knew that she had little if any right to get angry, she could feel herself getting defensive.
"Please, Chandler... please try and understand..."
"No," he interrupted. "I'll never be able to understand this." With that, he turned and walked out, needing to get away, if only for the space to think. Monica watched his retreating figure helplessly as she let the tears freely fall.
"Mom, I'm home," Sam called as she threw the car keys on the table inside the apartment door. "Mom?" She walked quietly into the kitchen to find Monica sitting at the kitchen table with an album open in front of her. As she entered, Monica looked up and tried to smile.
"Hi, sweetheart," she greeted her quietly.
"Is everything okay?" Sam asked, worried. She noted that Chandler didn't appear to be in the apartment, and she prayed that he hadn't gone back to New York. Monica ignored the question and simply patted the seat next to her. Sam obediently sat down and gestured toward the album on the table. "What's that?" Her mother was silent for a moment before responding.
"This is from before you were born," she began. "Photos." She gestured toward a carton the size of a shoebox on the floor next to her. "And old letters and stuff," she added in a low voice. "I guess it's time that I told you about me," she finished, not sounding like she wanted to do so at all. She turned the book of photographs so that it was facing Sam and pointed to the first picture. "My prom," she said with a sad smile. As Sam examined every detail the photograph held, she felt a rush of combined happiness and sorrow hit her when she saw the smiles on her parents' young faces. She turned and looked into her mother's face and winced when she saw the hurt that it clearly held. Monica looked back at her, trying not to cry, but when she looked into Sam's face and recognized, as she had so many times in the past, how much she looked like her father, she couldn't hold back any longer and burst into tears.
"Calm down, man, she's fine now," Chandler repeated into the phone. "Yes, I'm sure." Pause. "Broken leg." Pause. "A week." Another pause, followed by a sigh. "Charlotte. Yeah, North Carolina. I don't know how long, all I know is that she lives here now." As he listened to Ross's near-hysterical questioning, Chandler took another mouthful of his beer. "Right now? In a bar near their apartment." Pause. "They. Her and Sam." Pause. "Her daughter." He moved the phone away from his ear as Ross's voice turned into a screech, from which he gathered that Rachel hadn't, as he had initially assumed, told Ross. "Look, why don't you just come, like you said, and everything can be explained then?" A momentary silence. "Okay... I'll call you in an hour to get your flight details, okay?" After saying goodbye, he hung up, finished his drink, and headed out of the bar and back to Monica and Sam's apartment.
"Where's Sam?" he asked coolly when he returned.
"She went to spend the night at Nicole's house," Monica answered carefully. "I told her all about us... our past..." she trailed off, uncertain of how to continue.
"Well, better late than never," Chandler answered icily. Monica bowed her head, realizing that it was going to be awhile before he forgave her, if he ever did. He sighed. "Look, Monica, I don't want to fight." She lifted her eyes once again and he recognized the hopeful look in them. "But I'm still angry," he continued. "I still... I don't know what to say. I don't know how I'm supposed to feel about this. I mean, you leave, you break my heart, and then sixteen years later, some girl shows up and tells me that she's my long lost daughter? This almost sounds like something my mother would write, minus the kinky details." He ran a hand through his hair as he sighed. Monica remained silent, knowing that there was nothing she could say that would give him any answers. "I love Sam," he went on. "I've only known her for eleven days, and yet I love her as though I've known her for all her life. But I just... I don't know what I'm supposed to do here." It was then that he realized that Monica was crying, and he took a step toward her and lifted her chin so that she was looking into his eyes. It was the first time that he'd let himself just look at her, and as he did, he could feel something deep within, a feeling that he knew he hadn't felt for years. The piercing blue of her eyes brought with it memories of the past. As she gazed back at him intently, he could remember with perfect clarity the sweetness of her kiss and the way her hair smelled. He could vividly recall the way she would whisper a soft "I love you" in his ear and how her delicate hands fit so perfectly in his own. He reminisced about the nights they had spent together in his dorm room, and the night of her prom. When he realized how long ago that was and how many years had been lost since, he felt his heart grow heavier. He noticed that it was no longer heavy with anger, but with regret. Regret that he'd missed the birth of his child and remorse at knowing that he hadn't seen her first steps or heard her first word. Regret that so many years of what could have been happiness and love had been wasted. The anger he had felt toward Monica slowly evaporated as she looked back at him and he recognized a similar pain that was mirrored in her own eyes. Without realizing that he was doing so, he reached up and gently brushed away her tears. His eyes were locked on hers as they silently shared the emotions that each had felt for so long. Slowly and hesitantly, he leaned in closer to her as she gazed up at him, feeling the fear and longing take over. Both sets of pained eyes closed as their lips met in a gentle kiss that each had awaited for so long. Momentarily losing themselves in the kiss, they found themselves in a tight embrace as the kiss deepened. Then, suddenly, roughly, Chandler pulled away and stepped back quickly. "I- I'm sorry," he stammered. "I... I can't." As he backed away from her, unwilling to look her in the eyes, he apologized again and retreated to his room, closing the door behind him as Monica sank back onto the couch, emotionally and physically drained, wondering if there would ever again come a time when they would share the kisses that had made her fall in love with him.