A/N: Yeah, I know what you are all thinking..."Oh my God!" well, that's
right, believe it or not, I updated quickly ::gasps:: Thanks for all the
reviews! Even the ones involving the word "accept" and crickets. But you
didn't need to give death threats, geez. Guess where I am? That's right,
English class, I have nothing left to do and we still have ::glances at
clock that is annoyingly blocked by flag:: 20 minutes left! So I figured,
I might as well write the next chapter of my fic. Who else is
hyperventilating? Me! Me! It's June 1, and I graduate in ::inhales
deeply:: 15 days. Ahh!! Oh well, University of Pennsylvania can't be that
bad (. The whole, "Chandler owes Joey his life" story won't be cleared up
until much, much later, but the phone call is just below... no cheating!!
-
"Well what is it?" Monica asked impatiently.
Chandler knew that stalling would only make things worse, but the news was so incredibly terrible, he didn't know what to tell her. Chandler was never really very good at sympathy, or emotional support, after all he could barely provide himself with it. All of his life, he was the one who was used to receiving the bad news; it was interesting, yet cruel, the turn of the tides, he being the one to tell what happened. In some ways it was just as bad.
Noticing that Monica was about to walk away if she didn't get an answer, Chandler started again, "Well, there was something that happened, I, uh..."
"Chandler, I really don't have a lot of time, so if you could just tell me," Monica said, tapping her foot.
"Okay, well there is this man, Charles Bing, he's well, he's a horrible person. Anyway, he um, well I don't want to tell you the whole story but," he stopped, grabbed her hand and tugged her into a hug, although she didn't understand why.
"Chandler? Why are we hugging?" she asked, worriedly.
"Mon, I'm sorry," he whispered, rubbing her back, "That was the hospital," he took a deep breath, "Your parents have passed away."
Not completely understanding what he just said, tears flowed down her cheeks anyway as she stared back at him in disbelief, "What?"
"Charles, he, he murdered them." Chandler answered back, squeezing her closer.
Now he knew how difficult this must have been for everyone else who had to be the deliverer of bad news. Whenever something negative happened in his life, which was quite often, he would always hate the person who told him. They would constantly reassure him, telling him that everything would be okay, and he would just be sitting there thinking, "Stop talking, you have know idea what the hell I'm going through so don't even try to pretend like you can understand."
It was the dire feeling of knowing that you were the one who made it hurt more.
-
Approaching Monica's apartment after returning home early from work, she had gone almost completely limp on Chandler's body, forcing him to support her all the way to the couch. She plopped down, letting the tears flow even more freely now that she was in her own home.
Obviously Chandler didn't know what to do. What could he say? What was someone in his position supposed to say? What was his position anyway?
All he knew was that he didn't want to be the one to pretend like he understood, even if he did. He didn't want to be the social worker who told him he would be moving again. He didn't want to be Joey when he told him that he had to change his identity again. He didn't want to be himself in that moment, knowing that Monica was in so much pain, while he was just an observer, crying with her when she needed him too.
"Monica, I know that I cannot possibly understand how you're feeling, but I want you to know that I feel terrible." He said, pulling her closer so she could sob on his shoulder.
From the cab, they had called their friends, who were supposedly on their way home. Chandler had notified Joey, the only other person who truly understood the meaning behind this, and Monica had called her brother, Rachel, and her friend Phoebe. Chandler hadn't met Ross or Phoebe, but prayed that they, with the help of the others, would be enough support to sustain Monica.
-
After the four others arrived in Monica's apartment, they immediately fell into tears. Chandler was the only one who seemed to be holding himself together, probably more for Monica's sake than anything else. Joey knew he needed to talk to Chandler about the murder, but knew he couldn't do it in front of everyone else, at least just not yet.
"Chandler?" Joey said quietly, when he noticed his friend was finally alone in the kitchen.
"Yeah?" he said sadly.
"Charles murdered them?"
"Yeah," answered Chandler.
"Was it because they were..." Joey trailed off, assuming his friend would be able to fill in the blanks himself.
"Probably, I just hope the police caught him. Chances are there were others like the Gellers," Chandler noted, worriedly.
"You don't think he'll go after my parents do you?" asked Joey, extremely worried.
"I hope not, but he already killed Nancy Gordon."
"Who was that?" Joey asked, confused.
"My second social worker, remember? I was like eleven years old," Chandler said, looking out the window, in deep thought.
"Oh yeah, her. Chandler, does this mean that you'll have to, you know, 'hide' again?" Joey asked, not really wanting an answer.
"I don't know, I'll have to talk to the cops, but I hope not."
-
After Ross, Phoebe, and Joey had returned to their respective homes, and Rachel had announced she would retire for the night, Chandler remained with Monica, as she stared at the coffee table, silent tears streaming down her face. Chandler was surprised that he allowed himself to get this attached to another. He knew what he could be getting himself into, but he didn't care. After all, he felt partially responsible for her unhappiness.
"Who is he?" sniffed Monica, as she continued to cry.
"Who?" Chandler asked, not really paying attention.
"That Charles Bing guy...who is he?" she repeated, grabbing yet another tissue.
"It's a long story," Chandler answered, not wanting to confuse her more. He didn't think it was the time; she should grieve first, and then understand why. Chandler especially didn't want Monica to learn what had happened in the past, and its true meaning. That would only lead to one thing, the only thing he didn't want; the revelation of his scar.
-
Okay, you see, the only reason I was worried this was going to get too "Harry Potterish" was because I was going to say that his scar burned everytime Monica was around (or every time Charles Bing was around) but I decided not to do that. NOW, I'm worried that this will seem too... brace yourself for a new word... "Agatha Christy murder mystery-ic" LOL, I hope it's not, because I don't plan on this becoming a solving a mystery type of story, although it may seem like that now because you don't understand a lot of the things I've mentioned. Please Review!
-
"Well what is it?" Monica asked impatiently.
Chandler knew that stalling would only make things worse, but the news was so incredibly terrible, he didn't know what to tell her. Chandler was never really very good at sympathy, or emotional support, after all he could barely provide himself with it. All of his life, he was the one who was used to receiving the bad news; it was interesting, yet cruel, the turn of the tides, he being the one to tell what happened. In some ways it was just as bad.
Noticing that Monica was about to walk away if she didn't get an answer, Chandler started again, "Well, there was something that happened, I, uh..."
"Chandler, I really don't have a lot of time, so if you could just tell me," Monica said, tapping her foot.
"Okay, well there is this man, Charles Bing, he's well, he's a horrible person. Anyway, he um, well I don't want to tell you the whole story but," he stopped, grabbed her hand and tugged her into a hug, although she didn't understand why.
"Chandler? Why are we hugging?" she asked, worriedly.
"Mon, I'm sorry," he whispered, rubbing her back, "That was the hospital," he took a deep breath, "Your parents have passed away."
Not completely understanding what he just said, tears flowed down her cheeks anyway as she stared back at him in disbelief, "What?"
"Charles, he, he murdered them." Chandler answered back, squeezing her closer.
Now he knew how difficult this must have been for everyone else who had to be the deliverer of bad news. Whenever something negative happened in his life, which was quite often, he would always hate the person who told him. They would constantly reassure him, telling him that everything would be okay, and he would just be sitting there thinking, "Stop talking, you have know idea what the hell I'm going through so don't even try to pretend like you can understand."
It was the dire feeling of knowing that you were the one who made it hurt more.
-
Approaching Monica's apartment after returning home early from work, she had gone almost completely limp on Chandler's body, forcing him to support her all the way to the couch. She plopped down, letting the tears flow even more freely now that she was in her own home.
Obviously Chandler didn't know what to do. What could he say? What was someone in his position supposed to say? What was his position anyway?
All he knew was that he didn't want to be the one to pretend like he understood, even if he did. He didn't want to be the social worker who told him he would be moving again. He didn't want to be Joey when he told him that he had to change his identity again. He didn't want to be himself in that moment, knowing that Monica was in so much pain, while he was just an observer, crying with her when she needed him too.
"Monica, I know that I cannot possibly understand how you're feeling, but I want you to know that I feel terrible." He said, pulling her closer so she could sob on his shoulder.
From the cab, they had called their friends, who were supposedly on their way home. Chandler had notified Joey, the only other person who truly understood the meaning behind this, and Monica had called her brother, Rachel, and her friend Phoebe. Chandler hadn't met Ross or Phoebe, but prayed that they, with the help of the others, would be enough support to sustain Monica.
-
After the four others arrived in Monica's apartment, they immediately fell into tears. Chandler was the only one who seemed to be holding himself together, probably more for Monica's sake than anything else. Joey knew he needed to talk to Chandler about the murder, but knew he couldn't do it in front of everyone else, at least just not yet.
"Chandler?" Joey said quietly, when he noticed his friend was finally alone in the kitchen.
"Yeah?" he said sadly.
"Charles murdered them?"
"Yeah," answered Chandler.
"Was it because they were..." Joey trailed off, assuming his friend would be able to fill in the blanks himself.
"Probably, I just hope the police caught him. Chances are there were others like the Gellers," Chandler noted, worriedly.
"You don't think he'll go after my parents do you?" asked Joey, extremely worried.
"I hope not, but he already killed Nancy Gordon."
"Who was that?" Joey asked, confused.
"My second social worker, remember? I was like eleven years old," Chandler said, looking out the window, in deep thought.
"Oh yeah, her. Chandler, does this mean that you'll have to, you know, 'hide' again?" Joey asked, not really wanting an answer.
"I don't know, I'll have to talk to the cops, but I hope not."
-
After Ross, Phoebe, and Joey had returned to their respective homes, and Rachel had announced she would retire for the night, Chandler remained with Monica, as she stared at the coffee table, silent tears streaming down her face. Chandler was surprised that he allowed himself to get this attached to another. He knew what he could be getting himself into, but he didn't care. After all, he felt partially responsible for her unhappiness.
"Who is he?" sniffed Monica, as she continued to cry.
"Who?" Chandler asked, not really paying attention.
"That Charles Bing guy...who is he?" she repeated, grabbing yet another tissue.
"It's a long story," Chandler answered, not wanting to confuse her more. He didn't think it was the time; she should grieve first, and then understand why. Chandler especially didn't want Monica to learn what had happened in the past, and its true meaning. That would only lead to one thing, the only thing he didn't want; the revelation of his scar.
-
Okay, you see, the only reason I was worried this was going to get too "Harry Potterish" was because I was going to say that his scar burned everytime Monica was around (or every time Charles Bing was around) but I decided not to do that. NOW, I'm worried that this will seem too... brace yourself for a new word... "Agatha Christy murder mystery-ic" LOL, I hope it's not, because I don't plan on this becoming a solving a mystery type of story, although it may seem like that now because you don't understand a lot of the things I've mentioned. Please Review!