When You Think Of Me

AN:  Okay, I know that this plot has been written countless times – I think I've even written something somewhat similar myself.  However, every time I hear the song featured in this chapter (and I hear it a lot – it's one of my current favorites, so it's on every cd I've made the past couple of weeks), I can't help but think that it should be made into a story, and to me, it fits Chandler.  So, forgive me for an unoriginal storyline, but I couldn't help it.  =) 

I hope you like it anyway…

Also, I am putting "Not A Day Goes By" on hold indefinitely, until I get some inspiration.   So, if you're waiting on that one, it might be a little while.  I'd rather wait and write it well than end up with another chapter like the one I posted a few weeks ago. 

This takes place in Season Six, probably about a third of the way through.  Some of the events that happened in the "real" series will be important later on, but for now, the only important thing I'm changing is that Chandler did NOT ask Monica if he could move in after they got back from Vegas. 

            He knew he should be stronger than this.  He should be a bigger man than he was, and not run away from the best thing that had ever happened to him.  He should stay and love her; that was what he wanted.  As he gazed down at her sleeping face, he couldn't imagine being the man to cause tears to fall from her beautiful eyes. 

            But he would.  Even as doggedly fought his own cursed instincts – the ones he had come to believe had been bestowed on him with his last name - he knew that he had already lost the struggle.  He hated himself for not being able to stop it, and he despised himself for letting her live in oblivion when he knew very well that the ending was now inevitable.  She had no idea that she was going to wake up alone in the morning.  That was the saddest part of the whole thing.  She had trusted him, so completely. 

And he was going to break her heart.

            He kissed the side of her head, blinking away the tears as he buried his face in her neck, breathing in her scent one last time.  He couldn't stop a sob from passing through him, and though he muffled the sound in his throat, the gentle shake of his body woke her.

            "Chandler?" she questioned sleepily, turning slightly toward him with her eyes still closed.  He quickly lifted his head and placed a gentle finger on her lips.

            "Shh, baby.  Go back to sleep."

            She nodded in agreement, but a second later her eyes fluttered open, seeking his.  "What's wrong?"

            Chandler forced himself to smile, hoping she was still too sleepy to focus on his eyes in the dark.  "Nothing, sweetheart.  Go back to sleep."

            "Hmmmkay…" she murmured, pulling her body closer to his as she closed her eyes again.  He held her willingly, gently stroking her hair as she slowly dropped back into unconsciousness, her arm draped possessively over his chest.   

            He stared down at her, and his mind began to run through the same dialogue he'd had with himself every night for what seemed like months.  He didn't have to leave her, not tonight, any time but right now. 

            But he was past the point of wondering if it would be so bad if he stayed.  The decision had been made, and though he couldn't remember actually making it for the life of him, he would follow it.   He'd resigned himself to the fact that he no longer had a choice.  How did he make it to this place, no longer able to decide for himself whether to stay or go?

            Swallowing hard, he leaned over to kiss her gently on the lips, then lay still for moment to make sure she was still sleeping.  He cautiously began to pull himself from her trusting embrace, pushing away his thoughts of what she would do when she woke up and he wasn't there.  He stood beside the bed, and allowed himself a lingering look back at her.

"I love you," he whispered into the darkness, before he turned away and opened the door.

            His bags were packed, stowed away in the back of his closet across the hall.  He wasn't taking much with him, just enough clothes to get by for a few days and a few other items that held memories he wanted to hold on to.  Everything else, he would leave for her.  She could cherish them as memories of him, pawn them on the street corner, or burn them in effigy – he didn't care.  But he hoped…he hoped she would remember.

            And if she did, he prayed that, with time, she would be able to find some good in the memories.  That she would think of them the way they were in the beginning, before his life with her became too much for him to handle. 

            But most of all, he wanted her to remember how much he loved her.  And he hoped that she would somehow manage to bury the thoughts that would inevitably accompany this knowledge: that as much as he loved her, it still hadn't been enough. 

You look so peaceful sleepin'
You don't know that I'm leaving, but I'm gone
Well, I did my best to beat 'em
But in my head the demons said move on
When you wake up you're gonna curse my name
But as some time goes by I hope and pray

 When you think of me
Remember the way that I used to be
Remember the times I held you tenderly
Remember the way that I love you

            He hadn't missed the irony in his decision to run to his mother; she was, after all, the one that had prompted his downfall, no matter how innocent she had been when she pushed the first domino, sending it crashing into the next, and the next and the next.   Nora Bing was the antagonist; he was the tragic hero, and Monica the innocent victim.  The hero's fatal flaw?  With him, it could be one of a million things.  He didn't have the energy to narrow the list to one. 

  His whole life was a freaking Greek tragedy…a comedy of errors that led him slowly but surely to this time and this place.   Just like Oedipus, his destiny had been mapped from the time he was an infant.  And trying to escape the fate the stars gave him only sent him straight to what he was trying to run from. 

            This.  Sitting alone in an airport, staring at a ticket that would take him to Boston, where his mother shared a high-class apartment with a man that was eight months older than Chandler.  This.  A pounding head and an aching throat, eyes filled with tears he refused to shed in public.  Determined to step onto a plane that would carry him away from his life, from everything and everyone he had ever held dear.

            This.  Leaving his heart behind in a cheerful apartment in The Village, in the possession of a beautiful raven-haired woman that had never deserved this.  Leaving his heart to ache with hers.  Both wondering why he'd had to go.  Forever wondering if it might have been different if…

            He hoped she would realize that she was better off without him.  Without him to drag her down, she could do all the things she wanted to do.  She could fall in love the way she was meant to, with some wonderful guy that could give her the world.  A man so much better than he was.  He'd always imagined her with someone like Pete Becker: smart, successful, talented, rich.  Someone so different from what he was.  Hell, now that he was gone, she could go back to Richard if she wanted to, he decided, though the thought left a bitter taste in his mouth.  Richard was a player in the tragedy just like Nora.

            He heard them call his flight, and glanced around as a few other people around him stirred and began gathering their things.  Three other people.  3:00 am flights to Boston weren't so popular, but from La Guardia, you could go anywhere in the world, any time of the day.

            Closing his eyes, he let scenes flash before him, her face filling every image.  He knew that twenty years from now, he would still be able to close his eyes and see her just as clearly.  The thought comforted him and scared him to death.  He would never be able to forget her.  And for the rest of his life, he would wish it had ended differently.  Haunted by her…in spite of the fact that he was the one letting her go.

            He stood slowly, and lifted his carry-on to his shoulder, staring at the floor as a wave of desperation threatened to send him reeling to the floor.  Regaining his composure, he turned and looked back down the corridor, toward the gate that led back to the real world.  A world where she was probably still unaware that he was gone.

            A world he didn't plan to return to.  A life he was giving up.

            He turned back around slowly, then walked slowly toward the weary-looking attendant that was waiting to take his ticket.

I think about the night I met you
I swore I'd never forget you – well, I won't
I think about the way you'll live and breathe
Inside my dreams forever
Well, you'll be better when I'm gone
You'll be better when I'm gone
Cause I know you're gonna fall in love again
I'm sorry this is how it has to end
But...

When you think of me
Remember the way that I used to be
Remember the times I held you tenderly
Remember the way that I love you

Oh, when you think of me

As I pick up these bags and turn around
I say a little prayer and hope somehow…
When you think of me
Remember the way that I used to be
Remember the times I held you tenderly
Remember the way that I love you

            She woke up before the alarm, and instinctively moved toward the side of the bed he regularly occupied, seeking the warmth and comfort of his body.  When she realized she had moved too far and still hadn't come into contact with the solidarity of his form, she opened her eyes and lifted her head, frowning at the empty space beside her.  She collapsed back against her pillow, wondering what had prompted him to get up without her.

            Sighing in mock frustration, she dragged herself out of the bed, and padded out into the living room, not surprised when she didn't find him.  He was probably across the hall.  She'd go over and scold him for leaving without a goodbye kiss, then make him breakfast before he left for wherever he was going.

            The door to Apartment 19 was unlocked, and she entered quietly, deciding Joey was probably still asleep.  To her surprise, Joey was sitting at the counter eating Frosted Flakes and reading the comics.  Her entrance surprised him; he nearly fell off his stool.  When he recovered, he gave her a sheepish grin.

            "'Morning, Mon."

            "Hey, Joey.  Is Chandler still here?"

            He gave her a confused glance, then looked around the apartment as if he expected Chandler to jump out of one of the corners.

            "Noo…I thought he stayed at your place last night."

            "He did, but when I woke up, he was gone.  I figured he was over here getting ready."

            "Oh…well, I haven't seen him.  Maybe he already left for work."

            "Maybe," Monica agreed reluctantly, though she didn't believe it.  It was barely six o'clock.  It was unlikely her lackadaisical boyfriend would already be at the office, early meeting or not.   "I'll call his office and see."  Maybe he'd been in the bathroom and she just hadn't noticed the closed door. 

            "What are you doing up so early?" she asked him, not wanting to appear rude or uncaring by leaving as soon as she found out Chandler wasn't there.

            "Just got home," Joey responded with a smirk.  Monica rolled her eyes at him and headed for the door. 

            "If Chandler happens to come back in, ask him to come see me, okay?"

            "'Kay," Joey agreed, his attention back on the comics.  He laughed loudly to himself as Monica opened the door, making her smile.  Sometimes she wished she could be like Joey, getting pleasure out of such simple things.

            "Chandler?" she called as she entered her own apartment again.  "Honey, are you here?"

            No answer.  No one on the bathroom, the balcony was empty.  He definitely wouldn't be in Rachel's room, and there was still no sign of him in the bedroom.  Disappointed, Monica sat down on the bed and reached for the phone, hoping she would catch him at the office before he got started on whatever was so important.  As she dialed the numbers, she saw a piece of notepaper, folded in half with her name printed on the front in his familiar writing.  Smiling, she placed the phone back in the cradle and picked up the note, expecting a few quick words explaining his absence, maybe a sentimental thought about how he hadn't had the heart to wake her. 

            Instead, she found only five lines, written like poetry.  No greeting, no "Love, Chandler" at the bottom.  Just five lines.

When you think of me
Remember the way that I used to be
Remember the times I held you tenderly
Remember the way that I love you

 When you think of me

            She stared at the words in confusion, wondering what they were supposed to mean.  They sank in without warning, and she lifted a shaky hand to cover her mouth as she realized what he was telling her.  He was saying goodbye.

To Be Continued…

Before you tell me Chandler wouldn't leave like that, I site this in my defense:  1 - The song called for it.  =)  2 – He did almost walk out on his own wedding day, and that was after he "grew up".  3 – More explanations for my rationale in upcoming chapters.  (It might not be good rationale, but I have thought it through a little bit…)

"When You Think Of Me" is written by Troy Verges & Brett James, and is sung by Mark Wills.