The One Where Mercury Continues

Original story by: Ezika

Continued with permission. Thanks, Ezika!

Continuation by: Jana~

Chapter Two

*****

--They all remained in the hall just outside the door, trying to catch any bit of conversation that would filter out of the room as Chandler's wailing continued.

"What the hell happened?" Joey asked, and Judy 'tsk'ed at him for using foul language, which they all just ignored.

"Chandler told me about his last hours with Monica," Ross replied numbly. "Before she jumped, apparently, they had been… intimate, with one another."

Judy scoffed at the news. "Why would she go and do something like that?" she asked callously.

They all looked at her in amazement. Even Jack.

"Why would she try to kill herself?" Ross asked, irritated. "She was feeling lost! Chandler is one of her best friends! She thought it would make her feel better!"

Judy seemed upset by the tone he used with her, and she wrinkled up her face, showing her disappointment. "Well, it obviously didn't work, now did it?"

"Judy," Jack interrupted, his tone sadly calm, "You need to stop now, ok?"

"Stop what?" she asked, indignant. "Just what am I doing that is so wrong?"

"It's this attitude that makes Monica think you don't love her!" Ross snapped angrily. "She's in there, fighting for her life, and all you can do is criticize her for a decision you think was a bad one!"

"You think I don't know that my baby is in there, fighting for her life?!" Judy shouted back, tears streaming down her face. "I wasn't criticizing the decision! I was asking because I didn't know if they were an item, as you kids say. She just broke up with Richard not that long ago! I thought it odd that she was serious about someone else so quickly! Is all!"

"Guys," Phoebe interjected, physically standing between mother and son. "This isn't doing any of us any good, ok? Let's just take a breath and calm down."

Angry expressions melted away as a Dr flew by them and into the room.

"What's going on?" Rachel asked no one in specific, saying aloud what the others had said silently in their heads.

"Maybe it's the psych Doc," Joey offered, inching closer to the door. "I'm gonna go ask."

Poking his head in the room, he saw Chandler still on his knees, on the floor, the quick moving Dr beside him, saying something about a tranquilizer.

"You're gonna have to wait outside," one of the nurses told Joey, pointing at him.

"We're worried," Joey said as he gestured back toward the hall where everyone was waiting for answers. "What's going on?"

"Your friend is having an anxiety attack," the Dr informed him. "We're giving him a sedative to help him relax. And Miss Geller is awake," he added, causing Joey to look for the first time since he had peeked in, at the bed Monica occupied.

Her eyes were open, and she looked scared as the other Dr and other nurse worked on her, quietly passing orders back and forth as they buzzed about her and fiddled with machines.

"Is she ok?" Joey asked, his tone and expression intense.

"We still have to run tests," the Dr explained, "But this is a very good step in her recovery."

Joey beamed, his heart racing as he smiled reassuringly at Monica. "You're gonna be ok," he told her, nodding to reaffirm his words. "And Chandler?" he asked the Dr. "Is he going to be ok?"

"We feel he will need grief counseling," the psych Dr answered, "But, yes. He should be fine."

"We'll be out to update you as soon as we can," one nurse said, then pointed at the door Joey was standing against. "You need to wait outside, please."

Joey nodded, smiling apologetically. "Sure, no problem." He gestured at the door before leaving through it.

"What's going on?" Phoebe asked, sensing it was good news by the look on Joey's face.

"Chandler's fine," he started. "Some kind of freaking out attack, but the Dr said he'll be fine, and that he needs counseling and stuff." His smile grew wider, and everyone literally held their breath as they watched the man that obviously held more news.

"And?" Ross asked, trying to get his sometimes-dense friend to hurry along.

"Monica's awake," Joey blurted out, holding his arms out when everyone gasped and made noises of relief and joy as they all joined in a group hug.

"Is she ok?" Jack asked, the first to break away from the six-person embrace.

"They said they needed to do more tests," Joey informed them, "But that this was a good thing."

"When can we see her?" Rachel asked, tears of joy replacing tears of utter despair.

"The Doc will be out soon to talk to us," Joey told her, and everyone, "So we can ask him then."

"What about Chandler?" Phoebe asked. "Are they admitting him?"

Joey scowled as he tried to determine what the question was, but it hit him a few seconds later. "I don't know," he answered. "The Doc didn't say. We'll ask about that too, I guess."

***

--The gurney that held Chandler whizzed by the group of friends, all of them torn between following it, and staying at Monica's door. Phoebe agreed to follow, promising to bring back news shortly, then jogged to catch up.

"How is he?" she asked the nurse that stepped quickly alongside him, both women struggling to keep up with the orderlies' brisk near-run.

"He was given a sedative," she told the blonde she recognized as the patient's friend. "He will be pretty sleepy for a while," she added.

"Is he being admitted? Why are we running with him? Where are we going?"

"The Dr wants to keep him overnight," the nurse explained. "To be sure he doesn't have a negative reaction to the tranquilizer, and to have a talk with him tomorrow."

"He's not crazy," Phoebe told her, following them into the room they were admitting him to.

"We know that," she replied. "Extreme grief can bring on nervous breakdowns."

"Is that what he had?" Phoebe asked. "A nervous breakdown?"

"The Dr can explain everything to you." She dodged the question, helping to shift Chandler into the hospital bed and off the gurney. "You can visit with him, but he won't be very lucid."

"Thank you," Phoebe said, waiting for the orderlies and nurse to leave before approaching the bed.

"Chandler? Can you hear me?" she asked, running her fingers through his hair.

"Pheebs?" He sounded drugged.

"Yeah," she acknowledged with a smile.

"Monica?" he asked, straining to keep his eyes open.

"She's awake," Phoebe answered. "You just rest, ok? You'll see her tomorrow."

"Tell her," he whispered, mumbling, "Tell her… I love her."

She nodded, raking her fingers through his hair again. "I will. Sleep now," she ordered as she brushed her palm gently over his eyes, encouraging his heavy lids to close.

After kissing his forehead, she made a mental note of the room number, then headed back for Monica's room.

***

--Too much excitement was bad for the patient, the Dr had said, so only two people at a time could go in to see Monica, and it was asked of them that they not bring up the attempted suicide.

That left little to talk about, and a lot of awkward silence as they struggled to find something to say to a woman they could always chat easily with.

Phoebe walked in, not having heard the 'two people at a time' rule, and Ross and Rachel turned around as she whispered 'hello'.

"She's still kinda shaken up," Ross said quietly, as if Monica couldn't hear him if he lowered his voice. "The Dr said only two people can be here at a time."

"It's ok," Rachel said tearfully, seeing her friend in such shape taking its toll on her. "I can go, so Phoebe can visit." She turned back to Monica. "I'll come back and see you later, ok?"

Monica didn't even acknowledge her, she just continued staring out the window, and Ross and Rachel shared looks as she left the room.

"She's been unresponsive so far," Ross informed Phoebe, whispering.

"She's also not deaf," Monica added, her voice sounding weak and strained.

Phoebe looked past Ross to his sister, approaching the bed. "Why did you do this, Monica?"

Ross stepped quickly to her side, touching her elbow to get her attention. "We're not supposed to talk about that."

She scoffed. "What? Why not? What else are we gonna talk about?"

He shrugged, glancing at Monica before looking back to Phoebe. "Dr's orders."

Phoebe dismissed his words with a wave of her hand. "Monica, do you want to talk about it?"

She shook her head. "Not really."

"Ok, what do you want to talk about?"

Monica looked up at her friend, her eyes vacant, with a sadness Phoebe had never seen in her before.

"Where's Chandler?" she asked hesitantly, begging to not be ignored.

"We're not supposed to talk about that, either," Ross whispered, knowing she wouldn't care, but feeling a duty to advise her anyway.

"He's in room 238," Phoebe told her, "Sleeping off a sedative they gave him."

Monica nodded. "He was crying…" She left the sentence there, waiting for Phoebe to pick it up and continue with it.

"He lost it, Mon. I've never seen him, or anyone, so upset."

Ross threw his hands up in the air and walked to the corner of the room, as if space between them would make him immune to criticism that he witnessed the rules being broken.

"I heard him crying," Monica whispered, tears trickling down her face. "I heard what he said before the Drs came in."

"You heard that?" Ross asked, involving himself in the conversation. She nodded. "What did you hear, exactly?"

"I heard him say that-" She stopped abruptly, deciding against telling her brother all she heard. "I heard him say that he was a horrible person. And that he deserved to die for what he did to me." The tears came faster, sliding unchecked down her face to drop on the hospital gown she was wearing. "He didn't do anything to me. This wasn't his fault," she choked out. "It was mine. I did this to me."

"Why?" Phoebe asked carefully.

"Cause, I didn't think I could cope with the sadness, and the hole in my heart! Cause I wished my unborn baby away!" Her voice rose in volume as she spilled her feelings. "Cause I was too scared to be a single mom! Cause I was too chicken to tell Richard I was carrying his child! It all just built on itself, one mess after another, till I didn't know which end was up anymore! I felt like I was drowning."

Ross physically winced. That was the very sentence Chandler had recited a few times as something she had said.

"Why didn't you let us help you?" he asked. "Why didn't you tell us what was going on? We would have saved you from drowning," he added softly.

"I don't know," she said with a sigh. "I didn't want to burden you. You and Rachel were moving in together," she said as she pointed at her brother. "And I saw how sad Chandler was, being around me. I figured, with time, I could get over it by myself. I've always been strong," she added, shaking her head.

"You are strong," Phoebe told her, "You just got lost for a little bit. In all the hormones and stuff."

Monica's expression showed confusion as she looked back up at her friend, silently asking for an explanation to what she meant.

"When you get pregnant," Phoebe explained, "You get whacked out hormones. When you… lose a baby," she continued cautiously, "More whacked out hormones."

"So," Monica asked, "I'm not crazy?"

She shook her head. "No, you're not. You're just sad and hormonal."

"I don't think we should be diagnosing her, Phoebe," Ross warned, glancing around them like a nervous lookout at a bank robbery.

"I'm not diagnosing her," Phoebe replied with a roll of her eyes. "I'm just telling her how I see things."

"Well, stop it," he ordered her, receiving another eye roll in response.

"What, do you think the Dr is gonna come in here and slap cuffs on you for practicing medicine without a license?" she asked with a laugh.

"Exactly!" Ross snipped back at her.

"Please," she scoffed, "They so wouldn't do that! Besides," she added, "I happen to have certification in holistic medicine!"

"They won't care about that," he argued. "They only care if you have a real doctorate!"

"Oh, well," she challenged him, "I better not do this then, huh?" She started waving her hands above Monica, whisking them sharply to the side every few seconds.

"What are you doing?" he asked in a sharp whisper.

"I'm cleansing her aura," she answered, her eyes closed, blissfully continuing her task.

"I'm not going to be a party to this," he snapped, then softened his tone for his sister's sake. "I'll be back later, k, Mon?"

"Sssshhh," Phoebe shushed him. "She needs to concentrate."

In a huff, he stormed out of the room, leaving Phoebe and Monica alone.

"That was fun," she said with a smile, then sat on the edge of Monica's bed. "Chandler gave me a message to give to you," she told her.

With a nod, Monica took in a shaky breath, wanting to, but also nervous to hear what he had to say.

"He told me to tell you that he will see you as soon as he can, probably tomorrow. And that he loves you."

When Monica started to cry, Phoebe wiped her tears with a tissue she had grabbed from off the small table next to them. "You love him, too, don't you?" she asked, sensing the answer.

Monica nodded. "But I'm so messed up," she whispered. "How can I-"

"Don't worry about that now," Phoebe instructed. "I know it doesn't seem like it, but after time, all of this will be a distant memory."

"But still a memory," Monica muttered. "A bad memory, that no one will be able to forget."

"Maybe not forget," Phoebe agreed, "But we will heal and move on. All of us. Including you."

"Could you do me a favor, Pheebs?" Monica asked, to which Phoebe nodded. "Could you maybe, cleanse my aura for real? I feel like I could use all the help I can get," she added.

Phoebe smiled, then reached into her purse for something, digging past an insane amount of crap before finding what she was looking for. She held it up, showing it to Monica.

"A chevron amethyst," she told her, identifying it. "It helps with cleansing the aura and repelling negativity."

"Ok." She watched as her friend closed her eyes, concentrating as she murmured softly to herself. Phoebe had some odd rituals and beliefs, but Monica found them strangely comforting in that moment. Everything she thought she knew was broken and in pieces, and maybe because of that, she felt open to alternative ways of thinking. Maybe getting her aura cleansed wouldn't fix her, or change anything, but it sure couldn't hurt, either.

"Thank you," Monica whispered, hesitant about disrupting Phoebe's trance.

Phoebe squinted open just one eye. "Thank you," she whispered back, "For letting me help you."

*****~*****

--Monica scowled as Ross fluffed up the pillows behind her, babbling as if there was not a care in the world. It was a coping mechanism he often used when he found it difficult to deal, chirping on about inane things, avoiding the real situation, as if not talking about it would make it go away.

"Mom and dad will be by later," he went on, moving from pillow fluffing to organizing everything on her bedside tray. "They went home to take a shower and a nap. Phoebe and Rachel are off getting snack foods at the vending machines, cause that cafeteria food is just awful. Even their coffee is horrible! I mean, how hard is it to make coffee, right? Oh, and Joey is asleep in one of the waiting room chairs." He chuckled, "I swear, that man could sleep anywhere! I remember one time-"

"Ross," she interrupted him, "Just stop it, ok?"

"I'm just straightening your table," he muttered.

"Not that," she told him, "I mean the incessant babbling. You're making me wanna jump up and leave. And as you can see," she added, gesturing to her condition, "I can't."

"Sor-ry," he mumbled back, a hurt look in his eyes as he continued adjusting the contents on her table.

Sighing, she apologized. "I'm sorry, I know you're just trying to be a good big brother, but, I can't stand all the tip-toeing everyone is doing around me."

"What would you rather us do?" he asked.

What she wanted, was to not be treated with kid gloves. She wanted them to yell at her. Tell her what she did was wrong. Express all the things she knew they were feeling, but refused to discuss. If the tables had been reversed, and it was any one of them who had done what she had done, she would've been giving them the tongue-lashing of a lifetime.

She wanted them not to pity her.

Avoiding all serious conversation, they instead talked about the weather, or dinosaur bones, or cabbies named Sonar who think they can track alien spacecraft by wearing a tinfoil hat. They changed the subject when she brought up her suicide attempt, or Chandler. Even Phoebe, who had been willing to speak more honestly with her before, now only babbled mindlessly, or she avoided saying anything. Monica figured they all got together and convinced Phoebe to follow along with them, in an effort not to upset her.

She asked the nurse about Chandler, but she just rattled off about how he wasn't her patient, and therefore knew nothing about his condition. Remembering that Phoebe had said he was in room 238, she tried to call his room on her bedside phone, but it was blocked from making outgoing calls. And the incoming calls were being closely monitored.

"I don't know, Ross," she muttered softly, turning her face away from him. "Can I just have some time alone, please?"

Looking down at his shoes, he nodded sadly. "Sure."

After hearing the door click closed, she sighed and stared up at the ceiling. "Dying woulda been better than this."

"Please don't say that."

She startled at the sound of the familiar voice, tears welling in her eyes as she found herself staring back at the owner.

TO BE CONTINUED…

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