The One With The Bachelor Party, Part Seven
"Soon Forget*"
~New York City-where we left off~
"Chandler! Wait!"
Chandler could hear the voice calling after him, but he was too hurt and confused to relent and turn around. He closed his eyes, as he opened the door to the apartment building, and tensed as the cold night air and freezing rain once again pelted his face. He didn't have the courage to tell them the truth, mostly because the truth scared him more than he cared to admit. He had left the apartment earlier, because he had suddenly felt trapped, and he began to panic. He'd thought that a walk around the block, to clear his head, might help, but after wandering for more than an hour, he was still left with a strange, desperate feeling in his heart. He'd made his way back to the apartment, only to find his friends, the only people he truely trusted, waiting for him. To make matters worse, they began saying all of the things that he had been thinking, all of the things that he had been trying to push to the back of his mind. He just wanted to forget. He wanted to be able to close his eyes, and not see the images that seemed to be permanently seared into his head.
"Chandler!"
Why couldn't they leave him alone? Why couldn't they see that he wanted to move on? He just wanted everything to be like it was before the trip. He saw the way that Monica looked at him, and it hurt him more than anything she could have possibly said. Although they slept in the same bed, she seemed hesitant to touch him. Chandler wondered if she was simply not attracted to him anymore. He was painfully aware of his own gaunt, pale appearance. And he knew that he appeared to be almost too fraile to touch. He felt tears sting his eyes, as he ducked into the warmth of Central Perk. He recalled the day that Pete had left, telling them that he wanted them to be happy. Monica had spent much of the evening trying to get Chandler to open up, but to no avail. He just couldn't tell her. It was almost embarassing, in a way. He knew that she never thought of him as particularly strong, but to tell her of the way that they had broken him--he just couldn't do it. Monica eventually gave up trying, until they had gone into their bedroom to go to sleep.
~One Month Earlier~
"I never moved any of your stuff," Monica said quietly, as she shut the bedroom door.
"Really? You didn't throw it all away?" Chandler was more than a bit surprised.
"I...I couldn't."
Chandler smiled slightly, and pulled open his dresser drawer. He pulled out his favourite old NYU t-shirt, and a pair of flannel pants. He began to change, all the while thinking that things were finally going to be okay.
"I can't believe you are going to be sleeping next to me," Monica sighed, as she turned to look at Chandler. Her voice caught in her throat, and her heart dropped, at the sight in front of her. Chandler was thin, so thin you could make out nearly every rib. But it wasn't his sickly figure that startled her. It was the fact that his entire back seemed to be covered with either old, yellowing bruises, or deep, raised scars. She suddenly felt nautious, and as Chandler turned to respond to her, she realized that her reaction to his now-clothed back was written all over her face. She had to say something. But what?
"Ch-Chandler, your back. Oh my God, sweetie," She finally whispered.
Chandler felt his face flush, and he looked down at the flowered quilt that covered the bed.
"It-it doesn't really hurt anymore," Chandler said softly, wanting this entire conversation to go away.
"What-who did this to you?"
"I don't want to talk about it," Chandler said shortly, and crawled into the bed, pulling the covers tight around his shoulders. He closed his eyes, trying to ignore the eventual sound of Monica crying behind him. It was then that he decided that it was best to keep all of this to himself. If seeing the results upset Monica like this, imagine how she would react if she knew the cause.
~present day~
"Chandler, please, please don't take off, okay?" Joey stood in front of Chandler, trying desperately to catch his breath.
"Joey, leave me alone," Chandler mumbled, as he sat in a dark corner of the coffee shop, a place that held many warm, happy memories. Memories that Chandler was having trouble recalling at the moment.
"Why? Chandler, we just want you in our lives again. We know it won't be the same, not for a while. Why can't you see that? We just...we just want to help you."
"You can help me, by not talking about it anymore," Chandler shot back.
"Chandler, despite what you may have heard a few minutes ago, Monica does love you. We all do."
"I know. I'm just...scared."
"Scared of what?"
"Of losing it all again. Of losing all of you again."
"That's not going to happen," Joey said reassuringly.
"You don't know that. No one knows--"
"No one knows what? No one knows what you went through? That's what you were going to say, right? Well, tell us Chandler! Tell us what happened!"
"You don't want to know."
"Yes, we do!"
"No, you don't. Joey, please. I need...I need time to think. Please."
"Fine. But just remember that we are all here for you. No matter what." Joey stood up and left the coffee house.
"I know," Chandler whispered to his best friend's retreating figure.
****
~One Week Later~
"Mr. Tribbianni?" the young receptionist called, and Joey and Monica stood up and approached her desk.
"That's me. This is Monica Geller, Chandler Bing's fiance-er, uh, ex-fiance, I guess," Joey looked at Monica, who simply shrugged in agreement.
"Follow me, please," the woman said, leading the two friends into a large, well-lit office. "Please have a seat. Mr. Takada will be with you shortly," with that, the receptionist left the room, closing the large oak door with a loud thud.
Five minutes later, a tall, dark haired Asian man entered the office from another door, and approached Monica and Joey.
"Hello, Mr. Tribianni, Ms. Geller. I'm Sam Takada. I worked with Patrick on your friend's case," Sam shook their hands, and took a seat behind his desk. He opened a thick file folder, and scanned it briefly.
"So what is it I can help you with, exactly?"
"Well, the thing is, we are looking for information on what exactly happened to Chandler in Thailand," Joey replied.
"What has he told you?" Sam peered over his wire-rimmed glasses.
"Not--uh, much. He won't talk, and since we don't know what happened, we can't help him."
"I see," Sam scanned the file, then looked up at the two desperate friends for a minute, before sighing heavily.
"Okay, but you didn't hear any of this from me. This investigation is still pending, so anything I tell you, stays with you, okay?" Sam looked at Monica and Joey sternly.
"Of course," Monica and Joey replied simultaniously.
"The group that abducted your friend is a radical political group, trying to take control of the central goverment. They have absolutely no idea what they are doing, so they simply bully small businesses around, and terrorize individuals who defy them. They are kind of like the Mafia, only not as well organized. Lately, they have made it a habit to abduct foreign tourists, and, using their connections with corrupt local cops and military personnel, charge them with ridiculous things like drug smuggling and espionage. A few weeks before your friend's visit, someone, supposedly a foreigner, stole several pounds of marijuana from a small home in Bangkok. As it happens, that home was owned by one of these radical nutjobs, so they scoured the city, looking for their suspect and, more importantly, their drugs. It seems that your friend Chandler was one of their suspects. We figured this, because he was one of the few foreigners that was not executed. This guy was convinced that he could get his drugs back, and apparently, when he realized that he probably wouldn't, he reportedly kept your friend around, just so he could have someone to torture. He was a sick bastard, that much is for certain. The Thai military eventually raided the compoud, and killed most of the group that resided there. They found fifteen prisoners, locked away in various cells throughout the compound. Ten of the fifteen prisoners were dead, and two more died after the rescue. Obviously, your friend was one of the few survivors. From what could be assessed from Mr. Bing's injuries, he was beaten regularly. The military invasion caused much of the compound's structure to collapse, and unfortunately, your friend was caught up in that, as well. He was unconscious for a week, and once he did awaken, he didn't talk much. We actually got very little information from Mr. Bing himself. These photos were taken of him a week after his rescue," Sam hesitantly turned his file on the desk, and pulled up two photos.
After a brief glance, both Joey and Monica turned away, unable to take in the severity of what they had seen, without becoming physically ill. After a moment, Sam continued.
"I am not sure if Chandler has told you, but he has lost about 80% of his vision in his right eye. Otherwise, he managed to escape major permanent damage. Physically, anyway."
"What can we do? What should we do? He keeps pushing us away," Monica finally whispered.
"Well, Chandler seems to be experiencing some of the same effects as war vetrans. It may help him to open up, and if he feels that he can't do that with you, it may be because he doesn't think you'll understand. Perhaps you should see if you can get him to talk to some vetrans. Let him see that he's not alone."
"That's a good idea," Joey said.
"I think I know someone that may be able to help," Monica added. She only hoped that she could convince Chandler that they only wanted to help. If he shut her out, the way he had last week, she knew that she would have to make some decisions. Decisions that would hurt him, and her. But she could not go on like this. She felt like she was living with a ghost, not a man.
But she knew that if they could get through this together, they would make it always.
...And wherever you've gone
And wherever we might go
It don't seem fair...for days
To disappear
Your lights reflected now
Reflected from afar
We were but stones
Your light made us stars
~*~*~*~
*The title of the fic is a Pearl Jam song, and the last lyrics are too. The lyrics are from "Light Years", and both songs can be found on the cd "Binaural".
"Soon Forget*"
~New York City-where we left off~
"Chandler! Wait!"
Chandler could hear the voice calling after him, but he was too hurt and confused to relent and turn around. He closed his eyes, as he opened the door to the apartment building, and tensed as the cold night air and freezing rain once again pelted his face. He didn't have the courage to tell them the truth, mostly because the truth scared him more than he cared to admit. He had left the apartment earlier, because he had suddenly felt trapped, and he began to panic. He'd thought that a walk around the block, to clear his head, might help, but after wandering for more than an hour, he was still left with a strange, desperate feeling in his heart. He'd made his way back to the apartment, only to find his friends, the only people he truely trusted, waiting for him. To make matters worse, they began saying all of the things that he had been thinking, all of the things that he had been trying to push to the back of his mind. He just wanted to forget. He wanted to be able to close his eyes, and not see the images that seemed to be permanently seared into his head.
"Chandler!"
Why couldn't they leave him alone? Why couldn't they see that he wanted to move on? He just wanted everything to be like it was before the trip. He saw the way that Monica looked at him, and it hurt him more than anything she could have possibly said. Although they slept in the same bed, she seemed hesitant to touch him. Chandler wondered if she was simply not attracted to him anymore. He was painfully aware of his own gaunt, pale appearance. And he knew that he appeared to be almost too fraile to touch. He felt tears sting his eyes, as he ducked into the warmth of Central Perk. He recalled the day that Pete had left, telling them that he wanted them to be happy. Monica had spent much of the evening trying to get Chandler to open up, but to no avail. He just couldn't tell her. It was almost embarassing, in a way. He knew that she never thought of him as particularly strong, but to tell her of the way that they had broken him--he just couldn't do it. Monica eventually gave up trying, until they had gone into their bedroom to go to sleep.
~One Month Earlier~
"I never moved any of your stuff," Monica said quietly, as she shut the bedroom door.
"Really? You didn't throw it all away?" Chandler was more than a bit surprised.
"I...I couldn't."
Chandler smiled slightly, and pulled open his dresser drawer. He pulled out his favourite old NYU t-shirt, and a pair of flannel pants. He began to change, all the while thinking that things were finally going to be okay.
"I can't believe you are going to be sleeping next to me," Monica sighed, as she turned to look at Chandler. Her voice caught in her throat, and her heart dropped, at the sight in front of her. Chandler was thin, so thin you could make out nearly every rib. But it wasn't his sickly figure that startled her. It was the fact that his entire back seemed to be covered with either old, yellowing bruises, or deep, raised scars. She suddenly felt nautious, and as Chandler turned to respond to her, she realized that her reaction to his now-clothed back was written all over her face. She had to say something. But what?
"Ch-Chandler, your back. Oh my God, sweetie," She finally whispered.
Chandler felt his face flush, and he looked down at the flowered quilt that covered the bed.
"It-it doesn't really hurt anymore," Chandler said softly, wanting this entire conversation to go away.
"What-who did this to you?"
"I don't want to talk about it," Chandler said shortly, and crawled into the bed, pulling the covers tight around his shoulders. He closed his eyes, trying to ignore the eventual sound of Monica crying behind him. It was then that he decided that it was best to keep all of this to himself. If seeing the results upset Monica like this, imagine how she would react if she knew the cause.
~present day~
"Chandler, please, please don't take off, okay?" Joey stood in front of Chandler, trying desperately to catch his breath.
"Joey, leave me alone," Chandler mumbled, as he sat in a dark corner of the coffee shop, a place that held many warm, happy memories. Memories that Chandler was having trouble recalling at the moment.
"Why? Chandler, we just want you in our lives again. We know it won't be the same, not for a while. Why can't you see that? We just...we just want to help you."
"You can help me, by not talking about it anymore," Chandler shot back.
"Chandler, despite what you may have heard a few minutes ago, Monica does love you. We all do."
"I know. I'm just...scared."
"Scared of what?"
"Of losing it all again. Of losing all of you again."
"That's not going to happen," Joey said reassuringly.
"You don't know that. No one knows--"
"No one knows what? No one knows what you went through? That's what you were going to say, right? Well, tell us Chandler! Tell us what happened!"
"You don't want to know."
"Yes, we do!"
"No, you don't. Joey, please. I need...I need time to think. Please."
"Fine. But just remember that we are all here for you. No matter what." Joey stood up and left the coffee house.
"I know," Chandler whispered to his best friend's retreating figure.
****
~One Week Later~
"Mr. Tribbianni?" the young receptionist called, and Joey and Monica stood up and approached her desk.
"That's me. This is Monica Geller, Chandler Bing's fiance-er, uh, ex-fiance, I guess," Joey looked at Monica, who simply shrugged in agreement.
"Follow me, please," the woman said, leading the two friends into a large, well-lit office. "Please have a seat. Mr. Takada will be with you shortly," with that, the receptionist left the room, closing the large oak door with a loud thud.
Five minutes later, a tall, dark haired Asian man entered the office from another door, and approached Monica and Joey.
"Hello, Mr. Tribianni, Ms. Geller. I'm Sam Takada. I worked with Patrick on your friend's case," Sam shook their hands, and took a seat behind his desk. He opened a thick file folder, and scanned it briefly.
"So what is it I can help you with, exactly?"
"Well, the thing is, we are looking for information on what exactly happened to Chandler in Thailand," Joey replied.
"What has he told you?" Sam peered over his wire-rimmed glasses.
"Not--uh, much. He won't talk, and since we don't know what happened, we can't help him."
"I see," Sam scanned the file, then looked up at the two desperate friends for a minute, before sighing heavily.
"Okay, but you didn't hear any of this from me. This investigation is still pending, so anything I tell you, stays with you, okay?" Sam looked at Monica and Joey sternly.
"Of course," Monica and Joey replied simultaniously.
"The group that abducted your friend is a radical political group, trying to take control of the central goverment. They have absolutely no idea what they are doing, so they simply bully small businesses around, and terrorize individuals who defy them. They are kind of like the Mafia, only not as well organized. Lately, they have made it a habit to abduct foreign tourists, and, using their connections with corrupt local cops and military personnel, charge them with ridiculous things like drug smuggling and espionage. A few weeks before your friend's visit, someone, supposedly a foreigner, stole several pounds of marijuana from a small home in Bangkok. As it happens, that home was owned by one of these radical nutjobs, so they scoured the city, looking for their suspect and, more importantly, their drugs. It seems that your friend Chandler was one of their suspects. We figured this, because he was one of the few foreigners that was not executed. This guy was convinced that he could get his drugs back, and apparently, when he realized that he probably wouldn't, he reportedly kept your friend around, just so he could have someone to torture. He was a sick bastard, that much is for certain. The Thai military eventually raided the compoud, and killed most of the group that resided there. They found fifteen prisoners, locked away in various cells throughout the compound. Ten of the fifteen prisoners were dead, and two more died after the rescue. Obviously, your friend was one of the few survivors. From what could be assessed from Mr. Bing's injuries, he was beaten regularly. The military invasion caused much of the compound's structure to collapse, and unfortunately, your friend was caught up in that, as well. He was unconscious for a week, and once he did awaken, he didn't talk much. We actually got very little information from Mr. Bing himself. These photos were taken of him a week after his rescue," Sam hesitantly turned his file on the desk, and pulled up two photos.
After a brief glance, both Joey and Monica turned away, unable to take in the severity of what they had seen, without becoming physically ill. After a moment, Sam continued.
"I am not sure if Chandler has told you, but he has lost about 80% of his vision in his right eye. Otherwise, he managed to escape major permanent damage. Physically, anyway."
"What can we do? What should we do? He keeps pushing us away," Monica finally whispered.
"Well, Chandler seems to be experiencing some of the same effects as war vetrans. It may help him to open up, and if he feels that he can't do that with you, it may be because he doesn't think you'll understand. Perhaps you should see if you can get him to talk to some vetrans. Let him see that he's not alone."
"That's a good idea," Joey said.
"I think I know someone that may be able to help," Monica added. She only hoped that she could convince Chandler that they only wanted to help. If he shut her out, the way he had last week, she knew that she would have to make some decisions. Decisions that would hurt him, and her. But she could not go on like this. She felt like she was living with a ghost, not a man.
But she knew that if they could get through this together, they would make it always.
...And wherever you've gone
And wherever we might go
It don't seem fair...for days
To disappear
Your lights reflected now
Reflected from afar
We were but stones
Your light made us stars
~*~*~*~
*The title of the fic is a Pearl Jam song, and the last lyrics are too. The lyrics are from "Light Years", and both songs can be found on the cd "Binaural".
