Regression

~Finding the Floor~

Another day that I can't find my head

My feet don't look they're my own

I'll try and find the floor below to stand

And I hope I reach it once again

"Chandler, you have to tell her!" Monica argued.  She and Chandler were seated in Chandler's apartment, after Chandler's release from the hospital.

"I know, I just…I don't know how she'll react…what if she tells him?" Chandler pulled a bitter face.

"Chandler, she's your mother," Monica sighed.

"She's not a normal mother though, Mon.  She's not like your—well, like Ross' mother," Chandler smiled knowingly.

"Ha-ha," Monica smiled sadly.

"Look, maybe I just won't say anything," Chandler shrugged.

"Chandler, you have to tell her!  What if she decides to marry him again?"

Chandler shuddered, and shook his head.

"Sweetie, I'm just saying, the sooner you tell her, the better it's gonna be.  She needs to distance herself, and you from him.  Have you thought about what you're gonna do if she brings him to see you?"

"Monica, I don't want to talk about this anymore," Chandler yelled harshly, and stood up quickly.  He immediately regretted it, as a sharp pain shot through his temple.  He swayed slightly, but ignored it, and walked across the room.

"I—I'm sorry," Monica said softly, her mind still reeling from Chandler's sudden outburst.

"No, I'm sorry," Chandler sighed from his place in front of his living room window, "I just…I really don't want to think about seeing him again…I don't think I'm ready…I don't think I can—"

"Chandler, it's okay," Monica stood up, and crossed the room, "I shouldn't have pushed the issue.  I just…I can't believe your mother, ya know?"

Chandler nodded, and smiled, as he pulled Monica toward him.

"I don't want to talk about my mother," he muttered sadly.

Monica smiled, and kissed Chandler softly.

"We don't have to talk…about anything," Monica whispered in between kisses.

Chandler grinned, and kissed Monica deeply.  As things became more heated, Monica led him toward the sofa.  She fell on top of him, giggling softly as Chandler moved his hands down her back.

They were like flashes.  Images that invaded his psyche, uninvited.  He squeezed his eyes together tighter, and pulled Monica closer.  She ran her hand up his shirt, and the flashes became much more.

"Stop, stop!" Chandler suddenly cried, and pushed Monica off of him.

"Chandler, what is it?" Monica asked, panic lining her voice.

"I don't know," Chandler was trembling, and his ears were burning.

"Okay," Monica said softly, and reached out to touch Chandler gingerly.  She didn't want to upset him, and was still unsure as to whether she should even touch him.  To her relief, he leaned toward her, and she wrapped her arms around him protectively.

There was a long silence.  Monica listened, as Chandler fought to stifle sobs.  After several minutes, he sat up to face her, but still refused to look directly at her.

"I—I'm sorry," he whispered softly, his eyes on his fidgeting hands.

"Don't be." Monica whispered sternly.

"I don't know what happened," he continued, as though he hadn't heard Monica.

"Chandler, we haven't been intimate since you found out…this is a huge step for you…for us," Monica reasoned.

"It's not fair…to you," Chandler said softly.

Monica placed her hand under his chin, and lifted his head slowly.  She looked into his bloodshot eyes, and smiled.

"What happens to you happens to me.  We'll get through this."

Chandler nodded, but inside, wondered if they really would.

~*~

"Well, I must say, two lunches in one month is a bit of a record for us, isn't it, dear?" Nora laughed, as she and Chandler sat down at a small table in the corner of a small, hole-in-the-wall Cambodian restaurant (Chandler's choice) two weeks later.

"Mom, I really need to talk to you," Chandler replied softly, as the waiter set two red plastic water glasses on the table.

"Honestly Chandler, could you have picked a filthier place?" Nora whined, as she swatted a large fly out of her face.

"It's great food," Chandler shrugged, and smiled slightly at Nora's reaction to his favourite little getaway.

Chandler had discovered the restaurant a few weeks after moving into his new apartment.  It was dark, dirty and small, and Chandler had loved it immediately.  He felt like he could just hide away from the world in this tiny haven.  To top it off, the food just happened to be extraordinary.

He'd brought Monica here, about three weeks ago.  He'd been certain that she'd baulk at the grimy floor and grease-splattered ceilings, but she'd fallen in love with it for all the reasons he had. 

"It's like we can just hide here, and no one would ever think to look through those windows up front, ya know?" Monica smiled, and stirred her noodle dish with her wooden chopsticks.

"Exactly.  I feel just…so comfortable," Chandler smiled sheepishly.

"I'm happy you finally shared your secret place with me," Monica winked.

"You know me better than anyone…better than I know myself, I think," Chandler studied the gaudy plastic tablecloth intently, his fingers nervously tracing the avocado green and gold flowers that dotted the brown plastic.

"I never really knew, though," Monica whispered, as she placed her hand on his, "just how strong you were."

If she could see him now.  Shaking like a leaf, as his mother chattered incessantly about her…shoes.

"I think they are actually sticking to this floor," Nora moaned, as Chandler drew himself out of his memory, and rejoined the conversation.

"Mom, I really need to talk to you," Chandler repeated.  He was starting to sound like a fucking broken record.

"What is it?" Nora finally sighed, as she pulled a long, thin cigarette out of her silver cigarette case.

"Can you please not smoke around me?  I'm trying to quit—again," Chandler muttered the last word.

Nora sighed impatiently, and tossed the cigarette in her bag.

"Mom…it's about Harold," Chandler started sullenly.

"Oh, Chandler look, I know you never really liked him, but he was always very fond of you—"

"Yeah, a little too fond," Chandler muttered as his mother continued.

"I just wish you would let this go!  I mean, it's just casual sex!"

"He used to…" Chandler stopped suddenly, and sat back in his chair.

"What?  Used to what, Chandler?" Nora asked, confused.

"T-touch me," Chandler whispered, his eyes glazed over, and his lip trembling slightly.

"What?  Chandler, what are you talking about?" Nora asked incredulously.

"He…he used to come into my room," Chandler continued softly.

"What?" Nora's voice was raised, but no one in the diner seemed to notice.  Chandler had expected a scene, which was why he chose this place over one of Nora's uptown, posh restaurants, where no one ever seemed to talk above a strained whisper.  He knew that Nora had let him choose because she had been humiliated when he'd passed out during their last outing.

"I've been remembering things lately," Chandler stuttered.

"So these memories just came to you?" Nora's eyes narrowed.

"Well, my therapist puts me into Regression Hypnotherapy, and—"

"Regression Hypnotherapy?  Chandler, I love you dearly, but honey, it's a scam!  I've heard about these doctors, who claim to drudge up old memories through hypnosis, when in reality, they've placed the memories in there, so that the patient keeps going to sessions.  These quacks will tell you whatever you want to hear—and it's always some traumatic childhood event that totally explains 'why you are the way you are'.  It's all nonsense, if you ask me."

"A-Are you saying that you don't believe me?" Chandler asked sadly, his eyes filling with tears.

"Honey, I'm sorry, I just—I don't think Harold could ever—"

"I—I have to go," Chandler stood abruptly, and stumbled out of the restaurant.

"Chandler—" Nora called, but to no avail.  She quickly paid the bill, and ran from the restaurant, tears filling her eyes.

'Not my son', Nora thought, as she hailed a cab, 'he couldn't have done this to my son'.

~*~

"Chandler, what's wrong?  What did your mom say?" Monica fired her questions as she opened the door and ushered a trembling Chandler into the apartment.

"She didn't believe me," Chandler said shakily, "how could she not believe me?"

"Honey, she's probably just in shock," Monica whispered, as she wrapped a thin blanket around Chandler's shoulders.

"She's my mother," Chandler muttered flatly, to no one in particular, "and she thinks that Renee has put this stuff in my head…that it never happened."

"What?" Monica replied, her cheeks flushing in anger.

"And part of me wants her to be right…I really…want her to be right.  But I know—I know she's not."

Monica nodded, and laid her head on Chandler's chest, as he continued to tremble slightly.

Eventually, both Monica and Chandler fell into a light doze, only to be roused moments later when their four friends walked into the apartment.  Monica looked back at them and smiled sadly, the look on her face telling them that now was not a good time.  They nodded silently and moved to leave, when a sudden, frantic pounding on the front door startled them.

Chandler's heart stopped.  A million images floated through his head, the first one being that Nora had been right; that his memories had been planted, and Harold had come over to kick his ass for even suggesting such a disgusting thing.  Then he thought that it was perhaps Nora, coming over to yell at him for taking off on her earlier.

Ross opened the door, and Nora pushed her way into the apartment, her eyes wild, and her hands shaking.  She spotted Chandler; standing in the center of the living room, shock lining his eyes.  Chandler had never seen her looking so…disheveled.

"Chandler, I don't know what happened, I—I saw him, I mean, I went to see him, after you left, and when I looked at him, I just—I knew.  I asked him if it was true, and he was so mad…but I know that he did it…and he tried to stop me from calling the police, but—he is so wrong, and he's so vile and disgusting…I just—he tried to stop me, and I wouldn't let him.  I won't let him hurt my son, I won't," Nora rambled loudly, her eyes searching the room frantically.  She seemed unfocussed, and her trembling was becoming more and more pronounced.

"Mom, where is he?  Did he hurt you?" Chandler asked quickly, as Nora paused to catch her breath.

"I shot him," Nora said flatly, and looked up at Chandler's face, "I pulled out my gun, and shot him in the head."

The sun just slipped its note below my door

And I can't hide beneath my sheets

I've read the words before so now I know

The time has come again for me

And I'm feelin' the same way all over again

Feelin' the same way all over again

Singin' the same lines all over again

No matter how much I pretend

Another day that I can't find my head

My feet don't look they're my own

I'll try and find the floor below to stand

And I hope I reach it once again

And I'm feelin' the same way all over again

Feelin' the same way all over again

Singin' the same lines all over again

No matter how much I pretend

So many times I wonder where I've gone

And how I found my way back in

I'll look around awhile for something lost

Maybe I'll find it in the end

And I'm feelin' the same way all over again

Feelin' the same way all over again

Singin' the same lines all over again

No matter how much I pretend

("Feelin' The Same Way, by Lee Alexander)