The One Where Mercury Continues

Original story by: Ezika

Continued with permission. Thanks, Ezika!

Continuation by: Jana~

Chapter Four

*****

--It was more than a little surprising to see room 238 empty. They expected to see Chandler lying in bed, but instead they found a bed stripped of all linens, and a 'candy striper' who could offer nothing in the way of answers. Deciding that the nurse at the desk probably had more information, they left the room in a convoy, heading straight for the nearest nurse's station, questions screaming to get out.

The nurse they spoke with was certainly nice enough, but was only slightly more helpful. She could tell them he had been released, but couldn't tell them when or where he'd gone to.

"He wouldn't have gone home," Joey theorized as they all hovered near the desk, trying to decide what to do. "Monica is still here."

"Well, then, he's probably with Monica," Ross added, then started for his sister's room without waiting for a response.

"Maybe we should give them some time alone," Phoebe suggested, following along, but reluctantly.

"We won't intrude," Ross told her, his stride constant. "We'll just check and see if he's there. If he is," he added, "We'll just leave them alone."

"What if he's not there?" Rachel asked, a troubled quality to her tone.

"Then we'll see if Monica knows where he is," Ross replied easily.

"What if she doesn't know?" she pressed further.

"Then we'll scour the place till we find him," Ross returned with an exasperated sigh; he just wanted to deal with one thing at a time.

"Maybe he's out looking for us," Joey interjected. "Or maybe he's at the cafeteria."

Further speculation proved unnecessary. Upon reaching Monica's room, Ross peeked in, finding Monica fast asleep, and Chandler in a chair by her bedside, his head resting on the bed, also sleeping.

He put his finger up to his lips, indicating they should be quiet, then gestured for them to look. When Ross stepped out of the way, Phoebe slowly pushed the door open to see, giving enough room for the others to as well.

"Should we wake them?" Joey whispered, and Phoebe promptly shook her head and moved to close the door.

"Let them rest," she advised. "They've both been through a lot."

They all agreed, glancing back at the door before walking a few steps away.

"I say we run home real quick and grab real food, real coffee, and a shower," Joey suggested, the sound of his rumbling stomach hard to ignore.

"Maybe we should tell them first?" Rachel asked, to which Phoebe immediately began shaking her head.

"We should let them sleep," Phoebe insisted.

"But if they wake up," Rachel countered, "They'll wonder where we went."

"Maybe we could leave them a note," Joey offered, trying to find a solution.

"We could just sneak in and put it on her table, or on the bed near Chandler's face," Ross added, he and the others looking to Phoebe to see if she was in agreement.

Phoebe nodded. "Ok, that'll work."

"It's settled then," Ross announced, gesturing for them to follow as he headed for the gift shop.

***

--"It just needs to be a simple note," Ross explained to Phoebe, she being voted as the person who should write it.

"I know," she returned with a roll of her eyes.

They all peered over her shoulder as she jotted, 'Chandler and Monica, went home to grab a shower and new clothes. We'll be back soon. Love, all of us.'

"Works for me," Ross muttered as he handed her an envelope to put the note in. "Make it out to both of them."

She glared at him briefly before scrawling, 'To Monica and Chandler', then she slipped the paper inside and licked it to seal it. "Who's going in?"

Glancing at one another, all eyes eventually landed on Rachel.

"Why me?" she asked.

"You have a quiet walk," Phoebe informed, and the guys nodded in agreement.

"But, I have pumps on!" Rachel exclaimed, pointing down at her feet.

"Rachel," Ross told her with a sigh, "You can remove your shoes you know."

Not wanting to appear stupid, she just rolled her eyes and scoffed. "I know that. I just didn't know if- if you knew that."

Phoebe and Joey shared discreet smirks as Rachel hung onto Ross for balance as she removed her shoes.

"Where should I put it?" she asked. "On the table, or on the bed?"

"Chandler might drool on it," Phoebe answered. "Just put it on the table."

Rachel nodded, handing her shoes over to Ross to hold. "Ok," she added with an intense seriousness, "I'm going in. Wish me luck."

"You're not Tom Cruise in Mission Impossible, Rachel," Ross quipped, receiving a glare in return.

Creeping in cautiously, Rachel tiptoed into the room, walking around Chandler to reach the bedside table. With a precision one might use when building a house out of a deck of cards, she carefully set the note up against the small plastic water pitcher, positioned so either could see it when they woke up, then turned and gave her friends a thumbs-up as they watched through the crack in the door.

Tiptoeing back, they all heard Chandler stir slightly, and Ross frantically waved for Rachel to hurry, causing her to rush out the door in very animated fashion.

"Mission accomplished," she whispered proudly, the door closing behind her as she retrieved her shoes from Ross.

"Ok, when should we meet back here?" Phoebe asked, checking her watch.

"Two hours?" Ross suggested. "That's enough time to eat and shower, right?"

"What about a nap?" Joey asked, his face scrunched up into a pained expression. "I'm so tired!"

Ross nodded and checked his watch again when the girls muttered in agreement with him. "Ok, how about we meet back here in three hours? One hour to eat, one to shower, one to nap. Sound good?" They all agreed with various comments. "Ok, let's synchronize our watches," Ross instructed, holding his watch out to adjust it.

Rachel scoffed, "Now who's playing Mission Impossible?"

Phoebe and Joey laughed as they said their goodbyes, Ross then moving quickly to catch up with Rachel as she walked away.

"I'm gonna come home with you," Phoebe told Joey. "I don't want to go home by myself. I'll just borrow something of Monica's, and crash on your couch, or in Chandler's room. Do you mind?"

"Of course I don't mind," he assured her. "But we might have to raid Monica's fridge," he added. "We don't have much in ours."

***

--The air seemed different in the hallway between apartments 19 and 20, and Phoebe could immediately sense the negative energy coming from Monica's place. Usually a cheerful vibe could be felt emanating from apartment 20; it certainly wasn't now, as Phoebe stood staring at the door.

"What's wrong?" Joey asked, startling her out of her near-trance.

Her eyes seemed glazed over as she looked over at him. "So much sadness," she whispered, then placed her hand on the door; she literally, physically winced. "You don't feel it?"

Humoring her, he placed his hand on the door, waited for a moment, then nodded.

"I have her key in here somewhere," she muttered, digging through her purse. When she found it, she keyed into the apartment without hesitation, gasping when the door swung open.

The usually-immaculate apartment was anything but, giving the two friends a glimpse into just how bad Monica had been before the attempted suicide.

Dishes lay in the sink unwashed, trash was piled up, spilling onto the floor. Tissues were scattered all about, crumpled from use, and the afghan and cushions on the couch were all uncharacteristically askew.

"I'm gonna need to burn some candles and incense," she announced softly, to herself as much as to Joey, "To get rid of all this negativity, before Monica comes home."

"What's that?" Joey asked, pointing to the small table that sat beside the couch. "It says 'to Chandler'." As Phoebe looked over, he suddenly gasped, wondering, "Do you think it's, like, a suicide note?"

They shared an intense moment before she moved to take it from the table.

"I don't think we should be reading that," Joey complained, watching as she flipped the envelope over.

"It's not sealed," she told him. "They'll never know we looked at it."

"That's not the point," he told her. "It's addressed to Chandler! We're not Chandler!"

"This could help us," she countered, attempting to convince him. "It's not invading their privacy, it's getting all the information so that we can help."

Reluctantly, Joey gestured for her to go ahead and open the letter, moving closer as she unfolded it. Peering over her shoulder, he silently followed along as Phoebe read it aloud, the final thoughts of a woman so swallowed up by depression, she would attempt to kill herself by leaping from her balcony.

As Phoebe finished, Joey handed the envelope it came in back to her, pointing at it anxiously once in her grasp.

"Put it back in," he told her, his voice giving away an emotion he fought hard to suppress. "We have to get back to the hospital!" Phoebe nodded in agreement, stuffing the paper back into its envelope. "Chandler needs to read this letter!"

***

--Too exhausted to string words together to make a sentence, Ross and Rachel barely said anything to one-another during the cab ride home. As if on autopilot, Ross hung an immediate right once entering the apartment he recently began sharing with Rachel, heading down the hall to the bedroom, Rachel close behind him.

"I'm too tired to even think about eating or showering," she mumbled, kicking her shoes off by her bedside.

Ross muttered in agreement as, toe to heel, he pushed his loafers off his feet, yanking the blankets and top sheet down before climbing into bed.

"Technically," Ross informed after a yawn, "We only have an hour, but I think I'll set the alarm for two hours, and forgo eating anything more than a sandwich, or something."

"Good idea," she agreed. "We can make a couple sandwiches and just eat them on the way back."

"Yeah," he sighed, settling in to sleep.

"It feels weird," she said after a moment, fairly certain Ross wasn't asleep yet.

"What does?" he asked groggily.

"To be thinking about simple things, like showers and eating sandwiches, when, to think, Monica could be dead right now."

Ross' eyes fluttered open, allowing Rachel's words to sink in.

"Yeah," he whispered, then turned over to gather her in his arms. "Try to sleep," he asked of her, kissing her shoulder.

She was definitely tired enough to sleep, but she wasn't so sure she would be able to. Not only because her thoughts often went back to Monica, but because the whole situation served to bring to her attention, how fragile life is.

Never in a million years, would she imagine one of their little group doing something like this. It was always something that happened to other people. Sad people. People with sad lives and no friends, but that didn't describe Monica, or anyone in their close-knit group.

If it could happen to one of them, it could happen to anyone.

Snuggling closer into Ross' side, she whispered, "I love you."

"I love you, too," he whispered back, pulling her tighter into his embrace.

***

--Tears fell down her face, but she didn't care. His expression carried so much anguish, even while sleeping, and she felt intense guilt for being the cause of his pain. For being the person responsible for that sad look on his face.

He didn't deserve the heartache she caused him.

Knowing on some level that he would be likely to blame himself for what she was about to do, she had the foresight to write him a letter, explaining everything, so he wouldn't go through life thinking he was the reason she killed herself. But, he obviously blamed himself anyway. It didn't make sense to her, and she struggled to remember what she wrote in those final minutes before climbing out on the ledge, trying to determine how he could have misunderstood her words.

The last thing she wanted was for him to blame himself.

Slowly, she raised her arm, the discomfort from doing so secondary in her mind as she placed her hand atop his head, smoothing down his hair. After a moment, he startled awake, his eyes flying to find hers, to remind himself where he was, and where she was and why.

"Sorry," Monica apologized. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"That's ok," he assured her, smiling. "Any longer in that position and I would've had one hell of a neck cramp."

That was what Chandler did. Make jokes to make someone else feel better, even if he was hurting. And it usually worked with her, but…

Things were different now. She'd changed things between them, and she didn't know what to say or do to get past it.

His smile faded when he saw the sadness in her eyes.

"Why are you blaming yourself for this, Chandler?" she asked him suddenly. "Why do you think it's your fault?"

Swallowing hard, he forced his voice to steady. "Because it is, isn't it?"

She shook her head as she told him, "No. It's not your fault. How could it be?"

"I couldn't help you," he sighed. "I tried-" His voice caught, and he shook his head in an attempt to regain his composure.

"Chandler," she whispered, waiting for him to return her gaze before continuing. "Didn't the letter help at all?"

His expression showed him to be confused by the question, his brow furrowed. "What letter?"

"This letter."

Chandler and Monica both turned to see Phoebe and Joey, standing in the doorway, an envelope in Phoebe's outstretched hand.

TO BE CONTINUED…

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