Regression
~Rhyme & Reason~
Come up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry
You don't know how lovely you are
I had to find you, tell you I need you
Tell you I set you apart
Tell me your secrets, and ask me your questions
Oh let's go back to the start
Running in circles, coming up tails
Heads on a science apart
Nobody said it was easy
Oh it's such a shame for us to part
Nobody said it was easy
No one ever said that it would be this hard
Oh take me back to the start
('The Scientist', by Coldplay)
Miles of seemingly endless fields, rows of copious fruit trees, quaint wooden farms, and jagged wire and wooden fences eventually gave way to a lush green valley, and rolling hills.
Nestled among the emerald hills was a large brown and white building that could have easily passed as a hotel, or even a picturesque bed and breakfast. Gleaming picture windows smiled onto the sprawling grass-covered grounds, and a small garden and flowerbed gave evidence that the area was meticulously cared for.
Inside, vibrant colors and natural wood furnishings shone in the late afternoon sun. The wooden tables were surrounded with multi-colored chairs, and covered with games and activities ranging from puzzles to Lego's.
Near the enormous picture window that overlooked the main grounds, sat a ratty orange sofa, and a matching chair. A cool breeze whispered through the room, as ghosts of the past rattled papers and wisped through draperies faintly.
Chandler stood in the doorway of this room that time forgot, his eyes scanning the empty space, and his mind absorbing the past. It seemed like nothing had changed—and as he stepped into the room for the first time in years, he felt his heart constrict: suddenly, he was eleven years old again. He was that slight, frail boy who believed with all of his being that he was completely unloved. That boy who had truly believed that death was the only option; that he would never be happy in the life he'd been cursed with.
Chandler shuffled into the room, his hand absently brushing over an unfinished jigsaw puzzle. His eyes were unfocussed, and his heart was beating rapidly. He could see, in his mind's eye, the days of loneliness and insecurity; the days of stubborn tears and haunting memories. And slowly, those memories melted, and Chandler saw tears being wiped away tenderly, and warm hugs that he prayed would never end. The man that stood in the center of the room was now trembling, as the onslaught of memories overwhelmed him.
She rubbed her weary eyes, and closed the file folder that sat in front of her. It had been a long day, but then, her most productive days usually were. Lately though, the long days had begun to take their toll on her aging body. Standing slowly, she mentally counted the creaks her body made as she slowly stretched. A soft knock on her door interrupted her thoughts.
"Come in," she called.
"Sorry to interrupt Corrine, but there's a young man here to see you."
"A young man?" Corrine echoed.
"Yes. He says his name is Chandler Bing?"
Corrine felt her heart stop. Chandler…her Chandler…was here. She smiled brightly, and made her way to the door.
"Where is he?" Corrine could barely contain her excitement.
"He's in the common room."
How long had it been? Twelve, thirteen years? She wondered what he looked like, where he was living, what he was doing now.
She wondered if he had fallen in love. She wondered if he was happy.
Had he faced his demons? His sudden visit meant that he was either facing them now, or had faced and conquered them.
Corrine wagered that the latter option was not likely.
She made her way to the common room, and stopped at the door.
Her heart swelled; the shaky, timid boy that she had once known had grown into a strong, handsome young man. He seemed lost in thought, but Corrine did not yet disturb him, as she was still trying to compose herself. Her eyes fell to a young woman, strikingly beautiful, standing a few feet away from her. The woman turned as Corrine entered the room. Corrine approached her slowly, still unwilling to break Chandler from his reverie.
"You must be Corrine," the woman with ebony hair and arresting sapphire eyes whispered, as she extended her delicate hand.
"Yes," Corrine smiled and took the woman's hand in her own.
"I'm Monica Geller, I'm Chandler's girlfriend."
"It's nice to meet you, Monica," Corrine's smile broadened, and she felt pride swell within her.
The hushed conversation pulled Chandler from his trance; he looked over at Corrine, but could not seem to move from his spot in the center of the room.
Corrine felt his eyes on her, and she turned slowly. She wanted to cry; those eyes, those captivating cerulean eyes, hadn't changed at all. She could still see the pain residing in them, after all this time. Corrine had a sudden urge to hug him. She began to walk toward him, but he crossed the room in three large steps, and was in front of her before she could blink. He wordlessly pulled her into a hug, and Corrine felt her throat clench.
He was taller than she now; Corrine was forced to reach up, in order to wrap her arms around Chandler's neck. Despite this, she felt him bury his head into her broad shoulder, the way he had countless times before, and in an instant the years melted away, and she was again his guardian angel, watching over him, and loving him when no one else would.
It was the most precious moment of her life.
"Chandler, I can hardly believe it," Corrine rasped, and her voice hitched.
Chandler pulled away from Corrine, and took a minute step back.
"I was worried you wouldn't remember me," Chandler smiled slightly.
"You're my Chandler, I would never forget you," Corrine combed her hand through Chandler's hair lovingly.
Chandler grinned, and flushed slightly. He shifted nervously, and scanned the room.
"Did you meet Monica?" Chandler looked at his girlfriend affectionately.
"I did. She's beautiful," Corrine grinned, and Monica blushed.
"Yeah, she is," Chandler extended his hand, as Monica approached. She took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
"You look…wonderful," Corrine sighed, unable to tear her eyes away from the man-child that stood before her.
"So do you," Chandler whispered, his eyes watering.
"What are you doing now? Are you still in New York?" Corrine had so many questions she could hardly convey them.
"I live in Manhattan, and I'm doing well. But lately—"Chandler's voice faded, and he dropped his head, as though he were suddenly embarrassed.
"Your memories have come back?" Corrine finished, and took Chandler's hand tenderly.
Chandler nodded wordlessly, and stared at his feet for a moment. Corrine opened her mouth to speak, but stopped when Chandler looked up at her.
"I'm just…I'm so confused by my memories. And I thought about all of the things that had happened, and I realized that the only person who could help me…was you."
Corrine felt her heart swell. This boy had certainly grown up, and she felt the pride that a parent would feel, as she cupped Chandler's face with her left hand.
"I will certainly do everything I can to help you get past this. I think that this conversation is about fourteen years overdue."
Chandler nodded, and looked around the room slowly.
"This place…hasn't changed at all. It's exactly how I remember it…and it was the place that I would always take myself to…when I wanted to feel safe."
"You don't take yourself there anymore?" Corrine asked softly.
"Sometimes. I have this therapist back in the city, and she forced me to establish a safe place, and it was always this room…and you. But outside of that…in my real life, it's always Monica," Chandler looked at Monica and pulled her toward him slightly. She wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him tightly.
"That is so wonderful…I was so worried the day you left here. I wondered how your parents would handle all that had happened."
"They dealt with it by pretending nothing had ever happened. And eventually, I did the same. Then, a few months ago, I started getting nightmares…"
"The same that you used to have?"
"Yeah," Chandler nodded, though in his head he'd just made the connection. He had forgotten that the bad dreams had started to occur nightly here at the center.
Corrine was working in her office later than normal, but she had let her paperwork pile up, and she needed to catch up. She sighed, and sat back in her large brown chair. Closing her eyes, she let her mind drift away from work. A nice hot bath…yes, that was what she really needed right now.
A piercing scream filled the night, and jerked Corrine from her thoughts. She stood and bolted out of her office and into the large corridor.
The night nurse was already making her way down the hall, so Corrine hurriedly caught up to her. Another scream shattered the silence, and this time, Corrine recognized the voice.
She rushed into the darkened room, and turned on a small desk lamp. She looked over at the small bed that sat under the room's only window. The little boy was thrashing around in his bed, sheets kicked off, and pillow discarded to the floor.
Corrine made her way to the bed, and laid her hand on the boy's right shoulder.
"Shh, Chandler, it's okay," she whispered.
She continued to soothe the boy, as he was slowly pulled into consciousness.
"No, please…" Chandler mumbled.
"It's okay, Chandler, you're safe, I'm right here."
He opened his eyes slowly, and looked around frantically. He began to register where he was, and his breathing began to slow slightly.
"It was just a dream," Corrine whispered, and the boy turned to look at her.
"You're safe here Chandler. I won't let anything happen to you."
Chandler nodded, and sat up slightly, and scooted toward Corrine. She was sat on the edge of his bed, humming softly. He laid his head on her lap, and drifted off again slowly.
Chandler, Monica and Corrine made their way to the sofa, and settled in.
"You said that you were confused about something?" Corrine asked slowly.
"Yes. My memories…I'm not sure which are real, and which are false anymore. And I—" Chandler sighed, and looked at his hands.
"What is it?" Corrine leaned forward, and placed her hand on Chandler's.
"I'm not sure what really happened to me. And I'm not sure who was really hurting me back then…"
"We never really flushed out what exactly happened to you, Chandler. I always suspected abuse, but when you arrived, there was no physical evidence…and you never really said—"
"It was almost always sexual," Chandler interrupted, "so you wouldn't have seen anything."
"I suspected that as well," Corrine muttered sadly.
"I was so sure it was Harold. But then he said…and then my memories, they changed, and I thought…but it couldn't have been—" Chandler's sentences were disjointed, and Corrine could sense the anxiety rising in him.
"You wonder if it was your father?"
"Yeah," Chandler looked up at Corrine, his eyes begging the question. "Do you know Corrine? Do you know who did this to me?"
AN: Yeah, that's right, I'm ending it there. Ha. Thank you all for reviewing! Feedback inspires me! Do it again!!
