AN: For all my poor fellow Mondlers that felt so deprived by the last chapter…and for Helga who is being tortured by my evil Mondler ways… ; )
Story Summary: 1969/1970: Ross tells all about his tour in Vietnam, after he unexpectedly runs into Chandler; Joey moves into the apartment across the hall from Monica and Rachel; Monica discovers that Chandler may be dead after all; Chandler returns home to discover everything has changed.
The Age of Aquarius
Chapter Twenty-Three: Promises Broken
His head was spinning.
As much as he had tried to prepare himself for the news that Monica had really moved on, he just could not accept that she hadn't waited for him.
She'd promised.
They hadn't really even known each other long, before he'd been shipped off to that God-forsaken place. But at the time, he'd felt like his world was in chaos, and she had been the one thing that had made him feel…
Safe.
He'd fallen in love with her, without even realizing it, and only when he was thousands of miles away did he truly appreciate it.
He had not realized…had not even considered…the idea that she never felt the same.
Still…on that day that he left her…the day that he'd said goodbye, she'd sworn to wait for him, and her promise had seemed so real…so genuine.
Sometimes, when he'd been waist-deep in a rice paddy, struggling to stay awake, praying that he'd live to see tomorrow, he'd hold on to that promise, and it would lift him…it would give him the strength he needed, when he had nothing of himself left.
But it was a promise she could not keep.
He tried hard to understand that. To understand that whoever this Jakob was, he had something that he did not…that he had been here, when Chandler couldn't be.
But it still tore him up inside.
He sat on the stoop of his parent's old house, sucking down his forth cigarette, trying to figure out if he really wanted to knock on the front door.
He wasn't sure why he'd come here. He wasn't sure if he really wanted to talk to Claire. He'd walked here without thinking, and only when he'd reached the door had he considered what he was doing.
That was an hour ago.
He pulled out a fifth cigarette, lit it, and sucked it halfway to the filter.
He pulled it from his mouth, and noticed that his hands were shaky. His eyes fell onto a long scar across the back of his hand. The scar started at his index finger, and ran halfway up his arm.
He still had no idea how it had gotten there.
The door opened and Chandler froze, his mind trying to come up with a logical excuse for his being here.
"Chandler? Wh-what are you doing here?" Claire stepped out onto the porch, and sat down next to Chandler, as he stubbed out his cigarette.
"I-I'm sorry…I…I didn't know where else to go," he finally said softly.
"Did you talk to Monica?"
"No. She…she's in California."
"California?"
"She's moved on," Chandler said simply, and Claire gasped.
"Moved on? But I—"
"I don't want to talk about it," Chandler said shortly, and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hands.
"I'm sorry," Claire whispered, and placed her hand on his shoulder. Chandler looked at her, his eyes dark and bloodshot.
"I guess…I just really need a friend right now," he rasped.
"Okay," Claire smiled, and wrapped her arm around Chandler's shoulders. He laid his head on her shoulder, and let out a deep sigh.
They sat together silently, watching as the sky burst into an array of pastels, eventually giving way to an inky darkness.
"When I was over there," Chandler said suddenly, causing Claire to start slightly, "I would look up at the sky, and…there would be a million stars, winking at me. I'd never seen so many stars in my entire life."
"It sounds nice," Claire replied.
"It was funny, because all I could think about was that I would give anything to be under the starless night in New York. Is that weird?"
"No," Claire smiled slightly, "it's not weird at all. You were homesick, and the stars just reminded you how far away from home you were."
"There are no stars up there tonight," Chandler sighed, "but I still don't feel like I'm home."
"It…it will take time," Claire replied softly.
"I suppose."
"Come on," Claire stood up, and extended her hand.
"Where?" Chandler took Claire's hand, and stood up.
"I want to show you something."
She led him into the house, and upstairs to her bedroom—the bedroom that used to belong to him. She crossed the room and picked up a framed photograph. Silently, she handed him the photo.
The photo was of Claire, with a tall, handsome man about their age. The couple was smiling brightly, and standing on the same steps they had just come from.
"That's my boyfriend, John. We'd been dating for two years before he was drafted."
"Is he still over there?" Chandler asked softly.
"No. He was killed two weeks after landing. He's buried next to his brother in Scarsdale."
"Oh…Claire, I-I'm sorry."
"He promised me he'd be back; that we'd get married and buy a house and live happily ever after. That was the last thing he said to me before he left. And it was the last thing he ever said to me.
I guess everyone breaks their promises."
"Yeah," Chandler whispered, and handed the photo back to Claire. She looked at it for a long moment, and ran her thumb over is slowly, before placing back on her dresser.
"It's hard, Chandler," Claire said, softly, her eyes on her shoes, "but you have to move on. For your own sanity, ya know?"
"Yeah," Chandler said softly, and she looked up at him, her blue-green eyes shining, "thank you."
"For what?"
"For…everything…for listening. For sharing. For making me feel…at home, again."
"Are you hungry?" Claire asked suddenly, then surreptitiously wiped an impending tear from her eye.
"Yeah, I guess," Chandler smiled.
"Okay, let's go," Claire smiled, and led Chandler out of the room and down to the kitchen. She opened the refrigerator, and dug around inside silently for a moment. She closed the fridge, and looked up at Chandler.
"We don't have anything to eat."
Chandler laughed, and shook his head.
"Let's go get something," he suggested.
They walked out to the front porch, both of them looking up at the starless sky silently.
"Your welcome, by the way," Claire smiled slightly, and looked up at Chandler.
He turned to look at her, a slight smile on his face. He wordlessly pulled her into a hug, then took her hand and led her down the steps, and toward her car.
"Where do you want to go?" he asked.
"Let's go into the city…I feel like being around…noise."
"Sounds good," Chandler smiled, "but you'll have to drive. My license expired while I was gone."
"Did you really think I was going to let you drive my car?" Claire winked.
"Well, I figured since you were paying for dinner…" Chandler laughed.
"Hey, look at that, I got you to smile," Claire said.
"Only by smiling yourself," Chandler pointed out, and Claire giggled.
"All right, get in the car, soldier," Claire instructed.
"Is it safe? Does it…run?" Chandler raised his eyebrow warily as he scanned the beat up Pinto.
"Would you rather we take your invisible car?"
"Got me," Chandler chuckled, and climbed into the passenger seat.
He sat back in the seat, and closed his eyes, as Claire started the car. He smiled slightly at the familiar sound. Claire's car sputtered and wailed much the same way Phoebe's van used to. Phoebe. He wondered whatever happened to his eccentric friend.
"Ready?" Claire asked, pulling Chandler from his thoughts.
"Yeah," he nodded, and shook the memories of his past from his mind.
Claire was right. It was time to move on.
"Phoebe, what the hell is going on?" Monica stood up and rushed to her friend, as she was being escorted to the main lobby of the station.
"It's a long story, Mon, can we just go home?" Phoebe said wearily.
"Yeah," Monica replied, and stepped back as Phoebe signed some documents.
They walked out of the station in silence, and did not speak again until they had reached Monica and Rachel's apartment.
"Is this okay? I thought it would be better if you stayed with us tonight," Monica said timidly.
"Yeah," Phoebe replied nonchalantly, though in truth she was more than happy to stay with her friends. The last thing she wanted was to be alone tonight.
"You can probably stay in Rachel's room. It seems she has decided to start sleeping with our new neighbor," Monica laughed, as they ascended the steps of the building.
Phoebe shrugged, and followed Monica to her apartment. Monica opened the door to find Jakob screaming in a frantic Rachel's arms. Joey was sitting by the window, looking both horrified and depressed.
"Oh Monica, thank God! He won't stop crying, and I don't know what to do!" Rachel cried.
"Oh, it's okay Rach, I'm sorry…I shouldn't have left him when he's so sick," Monica took Jakob from Rachel, and attempted to soothe him.
Rachel sighed in relief when Monica took Jakob, then focused her attention on Phoebe, who was lingering in the doorway.
"Phoebe, are you okay?" Rachel asked, and pulled her into the apartment.
"Yeah, I…Joey?"
"Pheebs?"
"Joey, what are you…what happened to your leg?"
"It got blown off…Pheebs what are you doing here? Why were you in jail?"
"Wow, Joey, do you know every woman in New York?" Rachel arched her eyebrow.
"Rach, I met Phoebe at a protest rally years ago! I can't believe you're here!"
"I know! Where's Chandler, is he here too?" Phoebe smiled and scanned the apartment.
Joey's face darkened, and Rachel looked at her feet, but no one said anything.
"He's missing," Rachel finally whispered, hoping that Monica couldn't hear her over Jakob's screaming. The last thing she wanted to do was remind Monica of the situation.
Monica had heard Rachel, but chose to ignore it at focus all of her energy on Jakob. She quietly excused herself and walked into her bedroom.
"Wow, that's awful," Phoebe said softly, then looked at Joey, who was no longer looking at them.
"Joey, how long have you been back?"
"A while. I didn't know how to get a hold of you," Joey said apologetically.
"It's okay," Phoebe said quickly.
An uncomfortable silence formed, and Rachel cleared her throat to break the tension.
"So Pheebs, what happened? Why were you in jail?"
Phoebe reddened and looked at her shoes, "I think we should wait for Monica," she said quietly, "I haven't told her yet, either."
Rachel nodded, and once again, the room was silent. Joey took Rachel's hand and gave it a light squeeze, a move that did not go unnoticed by Phoebe. She felt herself flush with an unexpected jealousy, and turned away from the scene before anyone could notice. Monica emerged moments later, having successfully put Jakob down again.
"So, Phoebe, what happened?" Monica asked, unaware of the strange tension that had filled the room.
"The job I had downtown…it wasn't exactly a legal business," Phoebe said quietly.
"What do you mean?" Rachel asked.
"There was more than…massaging going on there," Phoebe shrugged, and sat heavily on Monica's sofa.
"Oh, sweetie, you didn't know. It's not your fault!" Monica said sympathetically.
"Oh no, I knew," Phoebe said, and Monica's eyes widened.
"Phoebe, you weren't…I mean, you didn't—"
"Whore myself out for money? Actually, Mon, I did," Phoebe said angrily, and stood up again.
"Phoebe! Why?" Rachel asked.
"Well, unlike some people, I don't have a rich daddy to spoil me," Phoebe spat.
"Neither do I," Monica said sternly.
"Really, Monica? What about Charles Bing?"
Monica's face reddened, and Joey looked at her, confused.
"Chandler's father? What does he have to do with this?"
"He sends her checks, for Jakob," Phoebe said bitterly.
"Phoebe, tell us what we can do to help you," Monica said, determined to change the subject.
"Nothing, okay? I can take care of myself," Phoebe yelled, and stormed out of the apartment.
She made it all the way to the street, before she fell to her knees and sobbed.
Chandler and Claire found themselves on Claire's front porch again later that night, staring up at the sky in silence.
"It's weird," Chandler said softly, "being back here. It's such a different world."
"Have you had any luck with your missing time?" Claire asked.
"My what?"
"The time you lost over there. The months that you can't recall."
"No," Chandler shook his head and sighed, "I wish I could remember…so that I could get past it."
"Yeah," Claire sighed.
Chandler looked down at Claire, and noted the sadness that still lined her face. She looked up at him, and smiled.
"You need to follow your own advice," he said softly.
"You mean John? I am trying…it's gonna take time."
"Yeah," Chandler agreed, and pulled Claire into a hug. She wrapped her arms around him and laid her head on his shoulder, "maybe we can heal each other," he whispered.
Claire felt a lump form in her throat, and nodded silently. She'd been so closed off from the world since John's funeral, so much so that she had dropped out of school and locked herself away in her mother's house. When she had first met Chandler, he'd felt like an unwelcome intrusion—he reminded her too much of John. But she'd been drawn to him, perhaps because she felt sorry for him. He'd looked so lonely that night he'd shown up at their door, and she felt horrible that his parents weren't around.
She hadn't talked about John with anyone since his death—not even her mother. But somehow, she felt she could trust Chandler. He made her feel…safe. And she needed that right now, more than anything.
She needed him, just like he needed her.
She tightened her arms around Chandler, and closed her eyes.
Maybe they could save each other.
AN: Holy Moly I'm on a freaking roll! This is probably it for a while though…maybe…we'll see. Review! Pleeeeeeze!
