AN: Apologies for the long delays on my fics. I've been really ill, and am still not well, so hopefully this chapter will make sense. I will try to work on my other ones too, but no promises…
Regression
~The Safest Place~
Last night I thought that I would die
I had nightmares, I was so scaredThank God that you were by my side
To hold me when I cried
I wanna be strong
But I don't wanna be alone tonight
He was curled up tightly, oblivious to all that surrounded him. He allowed the darkness inside of him, and he found artificial peace within it.
Inside the darkness, no one could touch him, no one could hurt him.
But more than that; in the darkness, he couldn't let anyone down.
As much as he'd tried to prevent it, Chandler had absorbed Harold's words, and even here, they echoed inside of him, haunting him.
His mind began to work, trying desperately to find ways to fight back.
Nora sat in the chair next to her son, as he stared blankly at the child psychologist before them.
Doctor Andrew Costa was a renowned Psychologist in his field, and was recommended to Nora by a friend. With his broad smile and sparkling blue-green eyes, Andrew immediately put Nora at ease.
Chandler was another story.
The boy sat quietly in his chair, barely acknowledging Andrew and Nora's presence.
He had yet to speak, and seemed lost inside his own head.
The case fascinated Andrew. He was sure he could dig his way into the boy's subconscious.
He had no idea how far he'd have to dig.
A door slammed in the apartment below, and Chandler jerked awake. He sighed, and pulled Monica closer to him.
They had fallen asleep on the sofa, but with Monica in his arms, Chandler had slept soundly for more than five hours.
He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept for more than three hours.
He sighed again, and watched in content silence as the light of day swept away the remnants of the night.
Monica stirred, and Chandler looked down as her eyes fluttered open.
"Hey," he whispered softly.
"Hey," she smiled, and snuggled closer to him.
Chandler kissed her hair, "Sleep well?" he asked.
"Mmmm-hmm," Monica nodded into Chandler's chest. She lifted her head, and looked up at him, "How are you feeling?"
"Better," Chandler smiled, and sat up as Monica pulled away from him.
"You must have been exhausted," Monica said somberly.
"I guess," Chandler muttered, and looked at his hands.
"Well, you brought it on yourself," Monica said harshly, and stood up.
Chandler felt his heart stop. He looked up at Monica, confusion lining his eyes.
"What? Monica—"
"You've always been a disappointment Chandler. What makes you think anything would ever change?"
Chandler felt dizzy and nauseous. He tried to stand, but his legs felt like jelly.
"Your mother is going to jail, and it's all your fault! She was right, it would have been better if you'd never been born!" Monica said coldly, and stormed into her bedroom.
"No, Monica!"
"Chandler, what's wrong?"
Chandler's eyes shot open. He looked around, and saw that he was still on Monica's sofa, with Monica in his arms, and that it was still dark outside. He glanced at Monica, and saw that she looked concerned.
"Chandler, are you okay?"
"Yeah," Chandler said, and pulled away from Monica. He tossed the blanket off of him, and stood up slowly.
"What were you dreaming about?"
"Huh? Oh, n-nothing," Chandler shook his head, and tried desperately to control his trembling.
"Chandler, please talk to me. Let me help."
"I—it just seemed so real…" Chandler's voice drifted off, and he stared out the window into the night sky.
"What did?" Monica stood up, and approached Chandler.
Chandler sighed, seemingly oblivious to Monica's inquiry.
"I hate the darkness," he muttered.
"What?" Monica reached out and touched Chandler's arm gingerly.
Chandler started, and looked down at Monica, the fog in his eyes clearing slightly.
"The night," he whispered, as he looked back out the window, "I don't like the night."
"I'm sorry you had a bad dream," Monica said softly.
Chandler turned to look at Monica again, and took her hands in his.
"Let's go back to bed," he smiled, "and make the night go away."
Monica nodded, and led Chandler into her bedroom. They climbed into bed, and wrapped their arms around each other tightly.
"I want to tell you something," Chandler said, after a short moment of silence.
"You can tell me anything," Monica replied, and snuggled closer to Chandler.
"I told Joey something earlier, and I feel like…like I should tell you."
"Okay," Monica said, her body tensing slightly.
"I just…I just don't want you to freak out, okay?" Chandler pulled away from Monica, and looked down at her.
"Chandler, I'm here for you, you know that."
"I…I tried to kill myself, several years ago, and…when I woke up, Harold told me that I had disappointed my mother, and that it was all my fault. And I believed him, and…I guess I needed to tell you, because I feel like I—I feel like I'm hurting you, and my Mom, and our friends, and—"
"Chandler, wait. Okay, first of all, I am really happy that you trusted me enough to tell me something like that…but I don't want you to worry about me, or the others. You aren't doing anything wrong. Don't let him get to you like this, Chandler. He's not worth any of it."
"I dreamt that…that you said…very different things. I dreamt that I'd let you down, the way I let my Mom down."
"You haven't let anyone down. I'm so sorry that you had such a horrible dream. But I can assure you that it will not come to pass—ever."
Chandler smiled slightly, and pulled Monica toward him, holding her tightly in his arms.
"I'm only safe when I'm with you," he muttered sadly.
"I don't understand. It's been two months, and he still won't speak! Has he made any progress at all?" Nora was exasperated.
"Mrs. Bing, I know that this is frustrating, but I do think we are making progress. Chandler no longer just sits in his chair for an hour. He draws, and writes a little. His writings are quite dark, and his drawings are abstract at best. But what it tells me is that your son is very disturbed. He feels alone, and he seems to be holding onto some deep-seeded guilt. Can you think of anything that may have contributed to this?"
"I don't…I just…do you think he jumped from the banister? Do you think something happened before his accident?"
"Yes, I do. I think your son tried to kill himself, Mrs. Bing, and I think it's vitally important that we find out why."
He lay in his bed, his mind hazy and heavy. The darkness no longer seemed as safe; it now seemed daunting and cold. But he hovered there, not sure where to go.
If he emerged, what would be waiting for him on the other side?
He sighed, and sat up to stare up at the night sky.
He shivered, alone in his room, alone in his guilt, alone in his battle.
He longed for the coming of the light.
~*~
Thank God that you were by my side…
On a night....
On a night...
Daytime I'm fine
Everything is back normal
Last night I thought that I would die
I had nightmares, I was so scared
Thank God that you were by my side
To hold me when I cried
I wanna be strong
But I don't wanna be alone tonight
I wanna believe that I can save the world
And make it right
But I believe that you've got a hero's face
Right here in your arms is safest place
The safest place
It feels so real
You showed I could trust you
With emotions I had locked away
It was your touch, your words
They hear deepest part of me
That only you can see
I wanna be strong
But I don't wanna be alone tonight
I wanna believe that I can save the world
And make it right
But I believe that you've got a hero's faceRight here in your arms is safest place
As long as I'm with you
As long as I can feel you
That's all I need to keep me going
On and on and on and on....
I wanna believe that I can save the world
And make it right
But I believe that you've got a hero's face
Right here in your arms is safest place
Right here in your arms is safest place....
The safest place...
The safest place...
"The Safest Place" (Desmond Child, Mark Hudson, Victoria Shaw, Eric Bazilian)
