In A Lifetime
Chapter Thirteen: Set Your Hope On Fire
A/N: I know, I know, I vanished off the face of the earth. I offer no excuses, just profuse apologies. Review, if you are still interested- and I'll try to work faster. It's all my own stupid fault.
P.S. Chris and Rach rock my world. Thank you both very much. [bows]
The wings of the plane cut cleanly through the clouds as it began to head downwards, the white fluff vanishing from Chandler's eyesight, replaced with brilliant blue sky and early evening sunshine glowing a luminous orange behind the skyline of New York City. He peered out of the window, seeing tiny dots winding their way down the streets of the city, and smiled to himself.
Turning back from the window, he felt Monica become tense, and he put his hand on hers. "It's okay, Mon," he whispered. "It's okay."
Monica smiled weakly and gripped her seat tightly, closing her eyes. Normally, she was a good flier; but her position of cancer-infected-mother-to-be made her feel much more nervous than normal. She took deep breaths, instructing herself to stay calm. She felt a hand on her sweaty forehead, and knew it was Chandler. She smiled, her heart filling with happiness. He was always there.
"We are now approaching the landing point at JFK airport. Please ensure your seatbelts are securely fashioned, and make sure that all seats and tray-tables are in an upright position. Thank you for flying with American Airlines."
Monica swallowed again, gripping Chandler's hand tightly. She rested her other hand on her stomach, feeling the baby inside kick as they touched down on the ground, slowing as they taxied along the runway. She smiled and opened her eyes, still breathing deeply. Chandler smiled at her.
He kept hold of her hand as they filed off the plane, down the ramp, and into the airport, where hundreds of people milled around. Shining silver reflected the golden sunlight throughout the building.
Monica's right hand returned to her stomach as she and Chandler glided down the escalator. She watched people retrieving their luggage from the revolving belt, and they made their way toward it. Silently, they took their bags, and walked together out of the airport. Monica concentrated on nothing but her feet, ignoring the people who crashed into her, not stopping to give an apology.
Chandler pushed open the glass door of the airport, letting Monica through first with a smile, and Monica grinned as she felt the fresh air on her face again. She sighed, and turned to Chandler.
He smiled. "So… wanna go home?" he asked. As an answer, she leant forward and planted her lips on his. Grinning, he waved his left hand in the air, and a cab pulled up. Silence fell on them again as the cab sped back to their apartment. When they arrived, Monica was exhausted, and she kissed Chandler once before climbing into their bed and falling immediately to sleep.
When she woke up the next morning, Chandler was already gone. She rolled over, expecting to fall into his arms, instead her head made contact with an envelope.
She frowned, slipping it open with her finger; and her frown deepened as she read the note enclosed with a sinking heart.
Monica,
I'm sorry I've gone so early, but work called to ask if I could come in and sort out what I've missed. I hope you don't mind. I've left you some flowers, and I'll be home in time for dinner as usual. Have a great day.
Love,
Chandler.
The letter seemed so… cold, and so un-Chandler like that she read it through twice more, trying to see him in it; but she couldn't. Normally, he would've surprised her with the flowers, knowing how her face would light up on seeing them. He would have offered to cook the meal himself, or take her out to dinner. But the note read like an uncaring husband- not like Chandler. Maybe she had come to expect too much of him.
She frowned at her thoughts, and swung her legs off the bed. She momentarily rested a hand on her stomach again and she smiled; she wrapped a dressing gown around herself as she headed out into the living room.
Immediately, she saw the flowers, and despite her thoughts about the letter, she marveled at the bright colors and sparkling arrangement. Walking over, she smelled them, toyed with a large lily, and picked up the card. Flipping it over, she read:
May these light up your day as you do to mine.
Monica stared at it. It seemed more like Chandler now; but she couldn't shake off the thoughts of the letter. Sighing, she put the card down and walked into the bathroom, glancing fleetingly at the flowers with a frown.
"The doctor will see you now."
Monica's eyes started upwards, then turned to Chandler, who was sitting next to her with a worried expression on his face.
"You go," he said, quietly. His voice sounded hollow. "I'll be here."
Monica sighed, nodded, and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before walking into the office. Chandler saw her hand twitch nervously, but said nothing.
Tests. As if the process of losing Monica wasn't awful enough for him, they made her suffer through tests, while he sat outside not knowing what they were doing, whether it was good or bad, whether it hurt her, or even whether she understood it all.
He had always tried to get his mind off it, and automatically reached for a magazine from the table next to him. But he knew it was pointless; nothing had managed yet to get his mind from Monica, and he knew it was futile to attempt anymore. But he flipped open the magazine anyway, planning to stare mindlessly at the pages, to put up the pretence of nothing being wrong.
He sighed, rolling his eyes as he saw more garble on teenage crime, and flipped to the middle pages. A recipe lay there, and he studied the ingredients, every one making him remember something Monica had said about them once. Apple pie; she had made this dish millions of times- usually for him.
He sighed, looking away from the magazine and resting his head against the wall. Sleeping was impossible too; but he closed his eyes all the time. Maybe he could fall into some kind of semi-conscious stupor.
He had no idea how long he was sat there for, but as Monica's hand shook his shoulder, his eyes snapped open and looked at her. She was smiling gently, and took his hand.
"Come on," she whispered. "I'm done."
"Oh, look! The Eiffel Tower! Hey, Pheebs, look!"
Monica laughed as Rachel waved another photo in the air, and Phoebe ran over, water spilling from the glass in her hand as she grinned.
"Aww, you guys look so sweet!" exclaimed Phoebe, leaning over the back of the sofa to peer at the picture.
Monica cocked her head and smiled. Chandler had an arm around her shoulder as they stood in front of the Eiffel Tower. She remembered how Chandler had suddenly stopped in the street, asked a Canadian tourist passing by to take their photo, and they gone into an impromptu embrace, with the Tower sticking up behind them. Monica ran a finger over the picture as Rachel handed it to her, sighing softly. Phoebe and Rachel didn't notice, as they laughed at a picture of Chandler in their hotel room.
Monica put the pile of photos down on the sofa and walked into her bedroom, Rachel and Phoebe's laughs ringing in her ears. She felt tears stabbing at her eyes, and brushed them away stubbornly as she clicked the door shut. She opened her wardrobe and bent down, rummaging in a large box before finally producing a bundle of pictures tied together with a elastic band.
She sat herself on the bed, slipped the elastic band off, and began to look through the pictures.
Each one showed her and Chandler smiling at each other, or next to each other. Sometimes one of the others stood there too, smiling too, but most showed Chandler and Monica alone together, both smiles showing how happy they were. Monica let her tears flow as she looked down at the photos, her heart breaking with each one.
"Are you okay?"
Monica jumped. She looked around, and saw Rachel perched on the bed behind her, a gentle smile on her face. Monica wiped her eyes and nodded.
Rachel just slid over next to her best friend and put an arm around her, silently comforting her.
"I can't do this anymore, Rachel," Monica said suddenly, her voice cracking.
"Wh-" started Rachel, but Monica cut her off.
"You know what," she replied, her glistening eyes staring at Rachel. "I'm breaking both our hearts at the same time, Rachel. You should have seen him at the hospital yesterday. He looked… empty, when I came out. Like there was nothing left."
Rachel sighed, clutching Monica's arm tighter. "Monica, listen," she said, brushing a stray strand of hair back from her cheek. "This is not your fault, and you know it. And Chandler knows that. Of course he's hurting- he loves you. And he has to watch you go through this, but he'll still be here, he has to deal with it afterwards… Monica, please, don't blame yourself." Monica looked up as Rachel's voice cracked slightly, and was surprised to see tears in her eyes. "It'll just make it harder for the rest of us, Monica."
Monica stared at her, feeling tears running down her own cheeks. Rachel looked back, and the silence between them was interrupted by soft music emanating from the next room. Monica smiled at her best friend; but before she could speak, the phone rang, startling them both.
"Hello?" said Monica, leaning across the bed to reach the receiver. "Yes, this is Monica." Her expression changed to one of surprise. "Really? Well, when can I come in? Okay. We'll be there. Thank you. Thanks. Bye."
Rachel looked at her expectantly.
"Something's come up in the tests," whispered Monica. "I have to go in and see them."
Monica heard her footsteps ringing in her ears like thunderbolts as she walked towards the doctor's office. Chandler walked silently just behind her, thought their hands were still joined together, tightly clasped. The electric lights flickered above, reflecting with a dull glow off the white walls. Various painting hung on the walls as they walked along, hearing quiet voices from the rooms they passed, the wooden doors shut, with no windows to peer through.
They turned a corner, and saw the waiting area for the office that they had sat in just two days ago. Chandler looked reprovingly at the magazine rack before Monica jerked his hand and led him into the office.
Dr. Waingrow sat behind the desk, shuffling papers rather nervously on her desk. She smiled at Chandler as he sat down, and then looked at Monica.
"Right," she began, sighing. "You know why you're here. We got some, er, rather surprising news from your tests yesterday, Monica," she said, glancing at Chandler, who didn't move. "But before I say more, can I just impress this upon you- this does not mean that it's 100% sure. There's still a big chance you won't be able to-"
Chandler cut in. "Please, doctor, just tell us," he commanded, sounding extremely forceful. Monica frowned at him, but didn't say anything.
Dr. Waingrow sighed. "Okay, Mr. Bing. The tests showed that the cancer hasn't progressed as far as we were suspecting. It's going rather slower than usual."
Monica's eyes widened. "And… and what does that mean?" she stammered.
Dr. Waingrow smiled. "Well, if it keeps up at this slow rate- and there's no guarantee of that, you understand- then it may be possible for you to undergo chemo after the baby is born and have a good chance of recovery from the cancer." She looked between the couple before her, as they stared at her.
"Please don't tell me you're kidding," whispered Monica.
"I must say again," said the doctor, her smile fading, "that this doesn't mean you will recover, Monica. But the chances are improved, somewhat," she added.
Monica turned to Chandler to the first time, who was still gaping at the doctor.
"Chandler?" she said, putting a hand on his cheek.
Chandler's head turned slowly toward her, and he smiled. It was gentle; but warm, and Monica finally felt that Chandler was… Chandler again.