Chandler ran towards the hospital entrance from the parking garage. All during the drive from Westchester his worry had been growing, becoming a near-frantic mania. Phoebe, something had happened to Phoebe, and it crushed his heart.
"Chandler!"
Chandler, turned his head, saw Rachel waving at him as she also ran up. Ross was right beside her, and they all stopped at the entrance.
"How is she?" Rachel's distress seemed equal to Chandler's. "Is she going to be all right?"
"I don't know. I dropped Monica off before I parked the car so she could find out. I just got here."
"Well, if anyone can find out quickly, she can." Ross clutched Rachel's hand, and Chandler could see that each of them was squeezing tightly. "Let's go."
They went inside. Monica was not hard to find, her voice carrying well from where she stood at the information desk. "Not like a banquet. B-U-F-F-A-Y."
Chandler jogged up. Monica turned briefly towards them, took in the sight of Ross and Rachel without comment, and turned back towards the receptionist. "Well?"
"Here it is." The receptionist's voice was calm, obviously used to frenetic inquiries. "She's in room 408. Listed as being in good condition."
Chandler let out a huge sigh, echoed by Ross and accompanied by Rachel's sob. The shared relief was almost palpable.
Monica continued to be all business. "How about her husband. Michael Hannigan."
The receptionist began tapping again. "He's in Intensive Care, post-op. Listed as very serious."
Chandler's stomach twisted. Just when things were going to be better. Mike was a great guy, and gave Phoebe a stability she'd never had before. To think of him gone, and how much it would hurt Phoebe... Chandler shuddered.
He looked around. Ross looked stricken, and Rachel was dabbing at her eyes. Monica's face was drawn and pale, and her voice was subdued but still brisk. "Let's.... let's go up and see Phoebe first. She'll probably need us to be there."
Chandler nodded. Wordlessly they moved towards the elevators. Chandler sought out Monica's hand and found himself caught in a crushing grip. It hurt, but it was a good, necessary hurt, that of shared pain and worry. They shared a look as they waited for the elevator, and now at last he could see more of a reaction from her, her eyes wide in shock. Chandler could only return her gaze, unable to provide any more comfort than to be with her. Somehow, though, that was enough.
"Where's Joey?"
Chandler answered Ross's question while still looking at Monica. "I couldn't get a hold of him. I left a message on his answering machine."
Ross swore softly. Chandler understood. Joey sometimes carried a cell phone, sometimes didn't, sometimes left it on, sometimes kept it off. Mostly it depended on whether or not he was trying to avoid a woman. Chandler hoped Joey checked his messages soon.
They quickly found room 408. One bed had an older woman who was now watching television. The other bed was empty. Monica released Chandler's hand and peered into the small bathroom, then looked back at him and shook her head.
"Oh, where is she?" Rachel's voice sounded slightly tremulous.
"She probably went down to see Mike," Ross replied. He lifted up the chart at the end of Phoebe's bed and examined it.
Monica sidled up to him, started reading over his shoulder. "What's it say?"
"Concussion, contusions, bruises-" Ross's voice suddenly stopped. He pointed at some words, and Monica groaned.
"What?" Rachel tried to peer over the top of the chart. "What?"
Monica's voice was heavy. "She lost the baby."
Chandler closed his eyes for a moment. Oh God. It wasn't fair, it shouldn't have to happen to Phoebe.
Ross spoke in a voice thick with his own pain. "We have to find her, now."
"Yeah. Back to the elevators, Intensive Care is on the second floor." Monica led the way out of the room. The ride down was tense, silent. Chandler was almost quivering. He needed to see Phoebe, needed to see that she was all right.
Again Monica led as they walked towards Intensive Care. She moved past a man walking the other way. He looked vaguely familiar to Chandler. The man stopped and called out, "You're Phoebe's friends, aren't you?"
They all turned to look at him, and now it clicked in Chandler's head. "You're Mike's father."
"Theodore." He looked uncomfortable. "Have you seen Phoebe?"
"No," Chandler said with alarm. "We were just going to look for her in Mike's room."
"She left a few minutes ago. My wife... we..." Theodore shook his head. "We weren't in a very good frame of mind. I'm afraid we said some... inappropriate things to her. I was going to... look, if you see her, can you let her know I- we're sorry?"
Chandler looked around, but everyone else was looking at him as well. How he'd been placed in charge of this conversation he'd never know. "Sure."
"Thanks." Theodore looked down, turned back towards Intensive Care.
"How is he?" Rachel's voice was soft, gently probing.
"He..." Theodore sighed heavily. "Those doctors, they don't say anything, they just talk about if's and maybe's and don't give you a straight answer. I think they said that if nothing goes wrong, he'll recover. We'll know more tomorrow."
"Good." Rachel reached out, put her hand on his arm. "Our prayers are with you and your son."
"Thank you." Theodore pulled away, his face still troubled, and walked back down the corridor.
They stood in silence for a few seconds. Chandler cleared his throat. "So if Phoebe isn't in her room and isn't in Mike's room, where is she?"
"Could be that we passed her in the elevator," Rachel said. "She might be back in her room."
Monica stirred. "Let's search for her. Chandler, go back to the room and wait for her. Rachel, check the front lobby, ask around, see if she's left the hospital. I'll look around here, Ross you check around the rest of the hospital."
Chandler felt a bit of relief. It was good to have Monica in situations like these, where she could lead and organize and think on her feet, and do all that better than anyone he knew once she got going. He nodded and turned to head back towards the elevator when he noticed Ross staring at the wall, apparently oblivious to anything else going on. Chandler felt a mild bit of panic on Ross's behalf; one ignored Monica's orders at one's own risk. "You catch that, Ross?"
Instead of answering, Ross moved towards the wall - or more specifically, a door in the wall. An exit to the stairs, Chandler noted, with one of those audible alarms on it that would make a loud sound if someone opened the door. Clearly the hospital didn't want anyone using the stairs unless there was an emergency.
Ross pointed at the door. "Look at this."
They crowded around him. Chandler could see that part of the alarm box on the door had been pried open. Inside a pair of wires had been cut. Chandler blinked. "So? Someone disabled the alarm."
"Looks recent," Ross commented. "I'm not exactly sure what Phoebe did before she lived with Monica, but I'm fairly certain not all of it was legal. Do you think she'd know how to do something like this?"
Chandler looked around at Rachel and Monica, saw no disagreement on their faces. "I guess. But why?"
"Let's find out," Monica declared. She pushed open the door. Chandler winced, but no alarm went off. They followed her to the landing. Monica looked thoughtfully at the stairs. "Up or down?"
"Up." Rachel sounded fearful, and Chandler felt cold. Suddenly he knew what Rachel suspected, and it frightened him, too.
They clambered up the steps. The hospital had seven floors and at the top was another door that led out onto the roof. It, too, had an alarmed door and it, too, had been disabled. Lying on the ground in front of the door was a pair of sturdy steel scissors. Chandler swallowed in a mouth gone dry and opened the door.
The day was warm but not quite hot, but the roof seemed to collect and reflect the heat. Chandler stepped forward, making room for the others as they followed him onto the roof. He quickly scanned the roof, and almost missed it. Behind a heavy piece of cooling equipment he saw blonde hair being lifted on a breeze.
He pointed and ran, the others right behind him. He turned the corner on the equipment and screeched to a halt.
Phoebe was dressed in nothing but a hospital gown. One of her legs was purple and yellow, swollen with the bruises. Her head was partially wrapped in bandages, with just a few strands of her hair falling free. She stood on the very edge of the roof, leaning far over the edge, looking down into an alleyway below, one hand hanging on to a pipe on the side of the cooling equipment.
Rachel practically screamed. "Phoebe, no!"
Phoebe turned her head, saw them, and smiled widely. "Hi guys."
"Phoebe." Monica spoke in a stern voice. "Come down from there right now!"
"You always were so strong and forceful. I liked that about you." Phoebe looked back down into the alley.
"Phoebe!" Now Monica's voice contained a hint of supplication. "Please, you'll hurt yourself."
"No I won't. Mother won't let me be hurt."
Chandler felt his chest tighten. "Your mother's dead, Phoebe."
"Dead?" Phoebe sounded mildly puzzled. "But death doesn't mean anything. I've lived and died so many times it doesn't matter any more. Mother's there, she's waiting for me, she won't hurt me and we'll be together."
"Phoebe, we need you too." Ross had assumed a kind of gentle, lecturing tone. "If you come back with us we'll help you get over the hurt."
"That's sweet, but I'm not hurting now." Phoebe paused briefly. "I'm mostly not hurting. I just need to wait for Mother to call out to me and all the pain will go away."
"That's not the way," Ross insisted. "There's too much to do here. Mike needs you, we need you here, not with your mother."
"Mike?" Phoebe smiled gently. "I loved Mike. He was good to me before. But he doesn't belong with me and Mother. He'll be fine, his parents love him, and I might visit him once in a while just so he won't forget me."
"If you join your mother you won't be able to visit him or us, ever."
"Oh, now you're just being silly." Phoebe chuckled. "It was fun playing with you. But really, there is so much you don't know. You don't need to worry about me, I'll be fine."
Ross bit his lip and looked around. Chandler had no idea how to proceed and neither did anyone else. Chandler motioned and they huddled together.
"Should we call the police?" Rachel said in a whisper.
"They might just scare her into letting go," Chandler whispered back. "And if they somehow stop her, she'll just end up in a mental ward somewhere. Do you know what they'd do to Phoebe in there?"
Rachel reluctantly nodded. "That'd kill her as much as anything would."
"I've seen her like this before," Monica said in the same whisper. "Back when she first moved in. Sometimes in her mind I just wouldn't... be there. She'd be in some other world and nothing else mattered."
Ross looked frustrated. "So how do we get through to her?"
"I... I think we just keep talking to her." Monica looked around. "The more she interacted with us, the more... here she was. If we can just keep her talking, she'll come out of it. I hope."
Rachel was just starting to say something when Chandler's cell phone began ringing. In the quiet of their whispered conference it sounded unnaturally loud and harsh. Chandler quickly took a few steps away from the others, looked at the caller ID, and hit the talk button. "Joey, where are you?"
"I'm at my apartment, I just got your message." Joey sounded beside himself with worry. "How's Phoebe?"
Chandler looked over his shoulder. Rachel was now talking gently with Phoebe, who was still leaning out over the alleyway but appeared to be listening. "Listen, man. Phoebe's spaced out, in the worst possible way. Mike's in a coma and she lost her baby and it really freaked her out. She's on the roof of the hospital right now, right this very instant, threatening to jump off. We're trying to talk her out of it but we could use your help."
There was a long silence on the other end of the phone. Chandler almost danced in frustration, wanting to go back and talk with Phoebe, hoping to keep her safe, but needing Joey to understand first.
When Joey finally talked, it was in a voice an octave higher than normal. "Don't let her jump off, man."
"I'll try not to. Just get over here right now, okay?"
"Okay, I-" Joey cut himself off. Chandler hopped on his feet, waiting Joey out. After a minute, Joey continued in a more even voice. "I'll be there as soon as I can."
"As soon as you can?" Chandler shook his head in disbelief. "What does that mean?"
"Just don't let her jump." Joey hung up.
Chandler shook the phone, irrationally hoping if he tried hard enough Joey would fall out in front of him. Then he put the phone in his pocket and rushed back over to Phoebe. Rachel was still talking, in a calm voice that belied the tears streaming down her face. Ross and Monica stood on either side of Rachel, as if to support her. Those two looked at him as he walked up. He silently mouthed, "Joey's coming," and they nodded their understanding.
Chandler clasped Monica's hand and then did his very best to keep Phoebe in the real world.
---
Phoebe looked down at her mother. Or what maybe was her mother, the shape in far distance as she looked down into the alley was difficult to make out. It kept trying to resolve itself into the shape of her mother, but the spirits drifting around on the rooftop near Phoebe were distracting it, keeping it from revealing itself. That, and the ever-increasing cloud of murkiness over her head that was almost tangible enough to block out the sun.
"There will be other chances," one of the spirits said. The bright, shiny spirit, the one that flitted about brightening everything she touched. The spirit had a name but Phoebe couldn't quite recall it and didn't feel like trying. "Mike will get better, you'll see, and then you and he can have another baby. It'll happen, you'll see."
"Mike isn't for me." Phoebe sighed. "I knew that, I really knew that all along. I don't belong here, I belong with my mother, you'll see."
"But Phoebe, honey, we'll miss you. You were going to be maid of honor at my wedding, remember?"
"Oh, I'll be there. I wouldn't miss it." Phoebe giggled. "Maybe I'll float over you, making scary ghost noises during the ceremony. And then when you go to break the glass, I'll swoop in and break it for you! That'll be funny."
"Phoebe." This was another spirit, the strong, steady spirit, the rock she'd sometimes anchored herself on, especially all those years ago when the spirit had given Phoebe a home when few others would. "We don't want scary ghost noises. We want you. Please, be here with us."
Silly spirits. Phoebe wasn't sure how many minutes, hours, or years she been talking with these spirits, but it felt like a long time hearing them say the same thing over and over. Her shoulder was beginning to ache very badly, the pain helping to feed the murkiness, and soon it would send her to Mother whether she was ready or not. "I love you all, but please be quiet. I can't quite hear what Mother is saying."
"Hey Pheebs."
Phoebe smiled, still staring down into the alley. It was here, the spirit she liked best, the young spirit full of boundless energy, always trying to have fun, to play with the world. She was glad to hear it, feel it one more time before she joined her mother. "Hi Joey." She was mildly surprised that she remembered the spirit's name.
"Now, I want you to stop playing jokes and come down from there right now," the young spirit said with mock severity. "Who else is going to sing me to sleep?"
Phoebe laughed. "I still will. I'll float through the wall, but only when you can't see so it won't be scary, and I'll sing you any song you want, and Mother will sing too, it will be the best duet ever."
"Don't give me that. Mother couldn't sing at all, she had a terrible voice. But what am I saying, so do you."
Phoebe whipped her head around. Standing there, shockingly real amongst the spirits, was a tall woman with long blonde hair. She was looking at Phoebe with no expression on her face. She never had an expression on her face. Ever. Her dull eyes would watch and examine and judge, then amazingly painful words delivered with a flat voice would escape into the air, hurting everyone who could understand them.
Phoebe trembled, a combination of exhaustion and anger. Of all the people in world, this woman was the one she least wanted to see right now. "What are you doing here?"
"Oh, this guy told me you were going to kill yourself so I decided to come and watch." Ursula walked over to the edge of the roof, still a measured distance from Phoebe, and looked down. "That's quite a fall. Why not use an oven like Mother did? It would seem to be less painful, if perhaps a little slower."
"Don't you dare talk about Mommy like that!" Phoebe was breathing heavily, almost pure hatred being exhaled. She looked back down into the alley, desperately trying to evoke Mother before Ursula scared her away. "Get out!"
"I suppose." Ursula's voice, of course, had not changed, was incapable of changing, might as well have been talking about what to fix for dinner. "Only, okay, here's the thing about killing yourself. Don't."
Surprised, Phoebe looked up. Ursula had been reaching up, plucking at the murkiness over Phoebe's head, and quickly she dropped her hands, as if guilty about being caught. She looked evenly at Phoebe. "Don't," she repeated.
"What does it matter to you!" Phoebe's eyes were burning and water began to spill down her face. "Just let me do what I want and don't interfere. Ross, back off!"
The spirit who had been edging forward took two steps back, his hands raised in a placating gesture. Phoebe shot him a glare, then focused on Ursula again.
"Fine, whatever you want." Ursula's eyes drifted back up to the murkiness, and almost begrudgingly lifted her hands and began picking at the edges. "But see, well, I don't want you to die. You're married to a rich guy, and if I need money I want to be able to come to you and take it. Those movies I made, they weren't very fun and I didn't make as much money as they promised I would. So, see, I need you alive."
"Oh my God." Phoebe wanted to wring her neck. "Is that all I am to you?"
"Pretty much, yeah." Ursula was now grabbing chunks of the murkiness, ripping them free and dropping them to the ground. "And... well, maybe a little bit, I need you alive to prove that not everyone in my family is mean and stupid. If I see you... y'know, happy... then maybe that means that being unhappy isn't a genetic imperative. I need you to be an example for me."
"You, you, you, it's always about you, how everything affects you. No one else matters. I HATE YOU!" Phoebe turned around, grabbed the pipe with both hands to ease the pressure on her shoulder. "You don't care about ANYONE OR ANYTHING! YOU DON'T CARE ABOUT ME, YOU NEVER HAVE!"
"Of course I don't care about you." Ursula brought her hands down, clasped them at her waist. "Everyone I ever cared about in my life has died. Not caring about you is the only way I can keep you alive."
Phoebe glared at her sister. Ursula, as always, didn't react, just stared back blankly, waiting for a reaction.
Sobs began to escape from Phoebe's throat. "I miss her. I miss her so much. I want to go back to her, I want to go see her."
Ursula shrugged. "So go see her. But later. Not now."
For long moments Phoebe held her sister's unflinching gaze. Then she looked over her shoulder back down into the alley, leaning as far backwards as she could while still holding onto the pipe. "Mother, I'm sorry," she whispered.
The shape at the bottom of the alley disappeared, leaving nothing but cement and garbage behind.
Regretfully, Phoebe straightened, stepped away from the edge of the roof, and released the pipe. She was immediately surrounded by people who were all trying to hug her at once. Her first thought was that this couldn't be good for the baby. Then she remembered there wasn't going to be a baby. She began crying, hard sobs that wracked her body. The people around her held on to her as best they could, trying to make reassuring sounds even as they themselves were crying. She clung to them and spilled her grief onto them and they accepted it and took it as their own and tried with all their heart to ease the burden.
Phoebe sobbed for several minutes before finally subsiding. She knew it was just a temporary reprieve, that the sobs would return in force later. But she also knew the people around her would be there too, and that comforted her a bit.
"Okay, well, I'm going then. I don't suppose you could give me cab fare? Plus maybe a bonus or something."
"Ursula!" Phoebe shrugged everyone off, ran over to her sister, hugged her tightly. "Thank you."
Ursula made an annoyed sound as Phoebe kept hugging her. After perhaps a minute she lifted her arms, put them across Phoebe's back, and for the briefest of instances applied pressure, making it a genuine hug. Then Ursula forcibly separated them, looked at Phoebe with that same hard expressionless face that was only slightly spoiled by the watering of her eyes. Ursula whirled and left the roof.
Joey came up to Phoebe, the others not far behind. "Gonna be okay, Pheebs?"
"Not... not for a long while." She turned and hugged him. "But I think I will be, eventually."
"Good." Joey sounded very relieved, which she supposed he had a right to be.
"We should get you back into bed." Ross's voice was tentative but friendly.
"O-okay." Phoebe allowed them to guide her towards the door. "Can we stop and see Mike first?"
"Of course," Rachel replied. "I want to see him too. But only for a minute. You need some rest."
"Okay." Phoebe sagged slightly in Joey's grasp as they walked down the stairs. Somehow she knew that he would keep her from falling until she could walk on her own.
---
(to be continued)
"Chandler!"
Chandler, turned his head, saw Rachel waving at him as she also ran up. Ross was right beside her, and they all stopped at the entrance.
"How is she?" Rachel's distress seemed equal to Chandler's. "Is she going to be all right?"
"I don't know. I dropped Monica off before I parked the car so she could find out. I just got here."
"Well, if anyone can find out quickly, she can." Ross clutched Rachel's hand, and Chandler could see that each of them was squeezing tightly. "Let's go."
They went inside. Monica was not hard to find, her voice carrying well from where she stood at the information desk. "Not like a banquet. B-U-F-F-A-Y."
Chandler jogged up. Monica turned briefly towards them, took in the sight of Ross and Rachel without comment, and turned back towards the receptionist. "Well?"
"Here it is." The receptionist's voice was calm, obviously used to frenetic inquiries. "She's in room 408. Listed as being in good condition."
Chandler let out a huge sigh, echoed by Ross and accompanied by Rachel's sob. The shared relief was almost palpable.
Monica continued to be all business. "How about her husband. Michael Hannigan."
The receptionist began tapping again. "He's in Intensive Care, post-op. Listed as very serious."
Chandler's stomach twisted. Just when things were going to be better. Mike was a great guy, and gave Phoebe a stability she'd never had before. To think of him gone, and how much it would hurt Phoebe... Chandler shuddered.
He looked around. Ross looked stricken, and Rachel was dabbing at her eyes. Monica's face was drawn and pale, and her voice was subdued but still brisk. "Let's.... let's go up and see Phoebe first. She'll probably need us to be there."
Chandler nodded. Wordlessly they moved towards the elevators. Chandler sought out Monica's hand and found himself caught in a crushing grip. It hurt, but it was a good, necessary hurt, that of shared pain and worry. They shared a look as they waited for the elevator, and now at last he could see more of a reaction from her, her eyes wide in shock. Chandler could only return her gaze, unable to provide any more comfort than to be with her. Somehow, though, that was enough.
"Where's Joey?"
Chandler answered Ross's question while still looking at Monica. "I couldn't get a hold of him. I left a message on his answering machine."
Ross swore softly. Chandler understood. Joey sometimes carried a cell phone, sometimes didn't, sometimes left it on, sometimes kept it off. Mostly it depended on whether or not he was trying to avoid a woman. Chandler hoped Joey checked his messages soon.
They quickly found room 408. One bed had an older woman who was now watching television. The other bed was empty. Monica released Chandler's hand and peered into the small bathroom, then looked back at him and shook her head.
"Oh, where is she?" Rachel's voice sounded slightly tremulous.
"She probably went down to see Mike," Ross replied. He lifted up the chart at the end of Phoebe's bed and examined it.
Monica sidled up to him, started reading over his shoulder. "What's it say?"
"Concussion, contusions, bruises-" Ross's voice suddenly stopped. He pointed at some words, and Monica groaned.
"What?" Rachel tried to peer over the top of the chart. "What?"
Monica's voice was heavy. "She lost the baby."
Chandler closed his eyes for a moment. Oh God. It wasn't fair, it shouldn't have to happen to Phoebe.
Ross spoke in a voice thick with his own pain. "We have to find her, now."
"Yeah. Back to the elevators, Intensive Care is on the second floor." Monica led the way out of the room. The ride down was tense, silent. Chandler was almost quivering. He needed to see Phoebe, needed to see that she was all right.
Again Monica led as they walked towards Intensive Care. She moved past a man walking the other way. He looked vaguely familiar to Chandler. The man stopped and called out, "You're Phoebe's friends, aren't you?"
They all turned to look at him, and now it clicked in Chandler's head. "You're Mike's father."
"Theodore." He looked uncomfortable. "Have you seen Phoebe?"
"No," Chandler said with alarm. "We were just going to look for her in Mike's room."
"She left a few minutes ago. My wife... we..." Theodore shook his head. "We weren't in a very good frame of mind. I'm afraid we said some... inappropriate things to her. I was going to... look, if you see her, can you let her know I- we're sorry?"
Chandler looked around, but everyone else was looking at him as well. How he'd been placed in charge of this conversation he'd never know. "Sure."
"Thanks." Theodore looked down, turned back towards Intensive Care.
"How is he?" Rachel's voice was soft, gently probing.
"He..." Theodore sighed heavily. "Those doctors, they don't say anything, they just talk about if's and maybe's and don't give you a straight answer. I think they said that if nothing goes wrong, he'll recover. We'll know more tomorrow."
"Good." Rachel reached out, put her hand on his arm. "Our prayers are with you and your son."
"Thank you." Theodore pulled away, his face still troubled, and walked back down the corridor.
They stood in silence for a few seconds. Chandler cleared his throat. "So if Phoebe isn't in her room and isn't in Mike's room, where is she?"
"Could be that we passed her in the elevator," Rachel said. "She might be back in her room."
Monica stirred. "Let's search for her. Chandler, go back to the room and wait for her. Rachel, check the front lobby, ask around, see if she's left the hospital. I'll look around here, Ross you check around the rest of the hospital."
Chandler felt a bit of relief. It was good to have Monica in situations like these, where she could lead and organize and think on her feet, and do all that better than anyone he knew once she got going. He nodded and turned to head back towards the elevator when he noticed Ross staring at the wall, apparently oblivious to anything else going on. Chandler felt a mild bit of panic on Ross's behalf; one ignored Monica's orders at one's own risk. "You catch that, Ross?"
Instead of answering, Ross moved towards the wall - or more specifically, a door in the wall. An exit to the stairs, Chandler noted, with one of those audible alarms on it that would make a loud sound if someone opened the door. Clearly the hospital didn't want anyone using the stairs unless there was an emergency.
Ross pointed at the door. "Look at this."
They crowded around him. Chandler could see that part of the alarm box on the door had been pried open. Inside a pair of wires had been cut. Chandler blinked. "So? Someone disabled the alarm."
"Looks recent," Ross commented. "I'm not exactly sure what Phoebe did before she lived with Monica, but I'm fairly certain not all of it was legal. Do you think she'd know how to do something like this?"
Chandler looked around at Rachel and Monica, saw no disagreement on their faces. "I guess. But why?"
"Let's find out," Monica declared. She pushed open the door. Chandler winced, but no alarm went off. They followed her to the landing. Monica looked thoughtfully at the stairs. "Up or down?"
"Up." Rachel sounded fearful, and Chandler felt cold. Suddenly he knew what Rachel suspected, and it frightened him, too.
They clambered up the steps. The hospital had seven floors and at the top was another door that led out onto the roof. It, too, had an alarmed door and it, too, had been disabled. Lying on the ground in front of the door was a pair of sturdy steel scissors. Chandler swallowed in a mouth gone dry and opened the door.
The day was warm but not quite hot, but the roof seemed to collect and reflect the heat. Chandler stepped forward, making room for the others as they followed him onto the roof. He quickly scanned the roof, and almost missed it. Behind a heavy piece of cooling equipment he saw blonde hair being lifted on a breeze.
He pointed and ran, the others right behind him. He turned the corner on the equipment and screeched to a halt.
Phoebe was dressed in nothing but a hospital gown. One of her legs was purple and yellow, swollen with the bruises. Her head was partially wrapped in bandages, with just a few strands of her hair falling free. She stood on the very edge of the roof, leaning far over the edge, looking down into an alleyway below, one hand hanging on to a pipe on the side of the cooling equipment.
Rachel practically screamed. "Phoebe, no!"
Phoebe turned her head, saw them, and smiled widely. "Hi guys."
"Phoebe." Monica spoke in a stern voice. "Come down from there right now!"
"You always were so strong and forceful. I liked that about you." Phoebe looked back down into the alley.
"Phoebe!" Now Monica's voice contained a hint of supplication. "Please, you'll hurt yourself."
"No I won't. Mother won't let me be hurt."
Chandler felt his chest tighten. "Your mother's dead, Phoebe."
"Dead?" Phoebe sounded mildly puzzled. "But death doesn't mean anything. I've lived and died so many times it doesn't matter any more. Mother's there, she's waiting for me, she won't hurt me and we'll be together."
"Phoebe, we need you too." Ross had assumed a kind of gentle, lecturing tone. "If you come back with us we'll help you get over the hurt."
"That's sweet, but I'm not hurting now." Phoebe paused briefly. "I'm mostly not hurting. I just need to wait for Mother to call out to me and all the pain will go away."
"That's not the way," Ross insisted. "There's too much to do here. Mike needs you, we need you here, not with your mother."
"Mike?" Phoebe smiled gently. "I loved Mike. He was good to me before. But he doesn't belong with me and Mother. He'll be fine, his parents love him, and I might visit him once in a while just so he won't forget me."
"If you join your mother you won't be able to visit him or us, ever."
"Oh, now you're just being silly." Phoebe chuckled. "It was fun playing with you. But really, there is so much you don't know. You don't need to worry about me, I'll be fine."
Ross bit his lip and looked around. Chandler had no idea how to proceed and neither did anyone else. Chandler motioned and they huddled together.
"Should we call the police?" Rachel said in a whisper.
"They might just scare her into letting go," Chandler whispered back. "And if they somehow stop her, she'll just end up in a mental ward somewhere. Do you know what they'd do to Phoebe in there?"
Rachel reluctantly nodded. "That'd kill her as much as anything would."
"I've seen her like this before," Monica said in the same whisper. "Back when she first moved in. Sometimes in her mind I just wouldn't... be there. She'd be in some other world and nothing else mattered."
Ross looked frustrated. "So how do we get through to her?"
"I... I think we just keep talking to her." Monica looked around. "The more she interacted with us, the more... here she was. If we can just keep her talking, she'll come out of it. I hope."
Rachel was just starting to say something when Chandler's cell phone began ringing. In the quiet of their whispered conference it sounded unnaturally loud and harsh. Chandler quickly took a few steps away from the others, looked at the caller ID, and hit the talk button. "Joey, where are you?"
"I'm at my apartment, I just got your message." Joey sounded beside himself with worry. "How's Phoebe?"
Chandler looked over his shoulder. Rachel was now talking gently with Phoebe, who was still leaning out over the alleyway but appeared to be listening. "Listen, man. Phoebe's spaced out, in the worst possible way. Mike's in a coma and she lost her baby and it really freaked her out. She's on the roof of the hospital right now, right this very instant, threatening to jump off. We're trying to talk her out of it but we could use your help."
There was a long silence on the other end of the phone. Chandler almost danced in frustration, wanting to go back and talk with Phoebe, hoping to keep her safe, but needing Joey to understand first.
When Joey finally talked, it was in a voice an octave higher than normal. "Don't let her jump off, man."
"I'll try not to. Just get over here right now, okay?"
"Okay, I-" Joey cut himself off. Chandler hopped on his feet, waiting Joey out. After a minute, Joey continued in a more even voice. "I'll be there as soon as I can."
"As soon as you can?" Chandler shook his head in disbelief. "What does that mean?"
"Just don't let her jump." Joey hung up.
Chandler shook the phone, irrationally hoping if he tried hard enough Joey would fall out in front of him. Then he put the phone in his pocket and rushed back over to Phoebe. Rachel was still talking, in a calm voice that belied the tears streaming down her face. Ross and Monica stood on either side of Rachel, as if to support her. Those two looked at him as he walked up. He silently mouthed, "Joey's coming," and they nodded their understanding.
Chandler clasped Monica's hand and then did his very best to keep Phoebe in the real world.
---
Phoebe looked down at her mother. Or what maybe was her mother, the shape in far distance as she looked down into the alley was difficult to make out. It kept trying to resolve itself into the shape of her mother, but the spirits drifting around on the rooftop near Phoebe were distracting it, keeping it from revealing itself. That, and the ever-increasing cloud of murkiness over her head that was almost tangible enough to block out the sun.
"There will be other chances," one of the spirits said. The bright, shiny spirit, the one that flitted about brightening everything she touched. The spirit had a name but Phoebe couldn't quite recall it and didn't feel like trying. "Mike will get better, you'll see, and then you and he can have another baby. It'll happen, you'll see."
"Mike isn't for me." Phoebe sighed. "I knew that, I really knew that all along. I don't belong here, I belong with my mother, you'll see."
"But Phoebe, honey, we'll miss you. You were going to be maid of honor at my wedding, remember?"
"Oh, I'll be there. I wouldn't miss it." Phoebe giggled. "Maybe I'll float over you, making scary ghost noises during the ceremony. And then when you go to break the glass, I'll swoop in and break it for you! That'll be funny."
"Phoebe." This was another spirit, the strong, steady spirit, the rock she'd sometimes anchored herself on, especially all those years ago when the spirit had given Phoebe a home when few others would. "We don't want scary ghost noises. We want you. Please, be here with us."
Silly spirits. Phoebe wasn't sure how many minutes, hours, or years she been talking with these spirits, but it felt like a long time hearing them say the same thing over and over. Her shoulder was beginning to ache very badly, the pain helping to feed the murkiness, and soon it would send her to Mother whether she was ready or not. "I love you all, but please be quiet. I can't quite hear what Mother is saying."
"Hey Pheebs."
Phoebe smiled, still staring down into the alley. It was here, the spirit she liked best, the young spirit full of boundless energy, always trying to have fun, to play with the world. She was glad to hear it, feel it one more time before she joined her mother. "Hi Joey." She was mildly surprised that she remembered the spirit's name.
"Now, I want you to stop playing jokes and come down from there right now," the young spirit said with mock severity. "Who else is going to sing me to sleep?"
Phoebe laughed. "I still will. I'll float through the wall, but only when you can't see so it won't be scary, and I'll sing you any song you want, and Mother will sing too, it will be the best duet ever."
"Don't give me that. Mother couldn't sing at all, she had a terrible voice. But what am I saying, so do you."
Phoebe whipped her head around. Standing there, shockingly real amongst the spirits, was a tall woman with long blonde hair. She was looking at Phoebe with no expression on her face. She never had an expression on her face. Ever. Her dull eyes would watch and examine and judge, then amazingly painful words delivered with a flat voice would escape into the air, hurting everyone who could understand them.
Phoebe trembled, a combination of exhaustion and anger. Of all the people in world, this woman was the one she least wanted to see right now. "What are you doing here?"
"Oh, this guy told me you were going to kill yourself so I decided to come and watch." Ursula walked over to the edge of the roof, still a measured distance from Phoebe, and looked down. "That's quite a fall. Why not use an oven like Mother did? It would seem to be less painful, if perhaps a little slower."
"Don't you dare talk about Mommy like that!" Phoebe was breathing heavily, almost pure hatred being exhaled. She looked back down into the alley, desperately trying to evoke Mother before Ursula scared her away. "Get out!"
"I suppose." Ursula's voice, of course, had not changed, was incapable of changing, might as well have been talking about what to fix for dinner. "Only, okay, here's the thing about killing yourself. Don't."
Surprised, Phoebe looked up. Ursula had been reaching up, plucking at the murkiness over Phoebe's head, and quickly she dropped her hands, as if guilty about being caught. She looked evenly at Phoebe. "Don't," she repeated.
"What does it matter to you!" Phoebe's eyes were burning and water began to spill down her face. "Just let me do what I want and don't interfere. Ross, back off!"
The spirit who had been edging forward took two steps back, his hands raised in a placating gesture. Phoebe shot him a glare, then focused on Ursula again.
"Fine, whatever you want." Ursula's eyes drifted back up to the murkiness, and almost begrudgingly lifted her hands and began picking at the edges. "But see, well, I don't want you to die. You're married to a rich guy, and if I need money I want to be able to come to you and take it. Those movies I made, they weren't very fun and I didn't make as much money as they promised I would. So, see, I need you alive."
"Oh my God." Phoebe wanted to wring her neck. "Is that all I am to you?"
"Pretty much, yeah." Ursula was now grabbing chunks of the murkiness, ripping them free and dropping them to the ground. "And... well, maybe a little bit, I need you alive to prove that not everyone in my family is mean and stupid. If I see you... y'know, happy... then maybe that means that being unhappy isn't a genetic imperative. I need you to be an example for me."
"You, you, you, it's always about you, how everything affects you. No one else matters. I HATE YOU!" Phoebe turned around, grabbed the pipe with both hands to ease the pressure on her shoulder. "You don't care about ANYONE OR ANYTHING! YOU DON'T CARE ABOUT ME, YOU NEVER HAVE!"
"Of course I don't care about you." Ursula brought her hands down, clasped them at her waist. "Everyone I ever cared about in my life has died. Not caring about you is the only way I can keep you alive."
Phoebe glared at her sister. Ursula, as always, didn't react, just stared back blankly, waiting for a reaction.
Sobs began to escape from Phoebe's throat. "I miss her. I miss her so much. I want to go back to her, I want to go see her."
Ursula shrugged. "So go see her. But later. Not now."
For long moments Phoebe held her sister's unflinching gaze. Then she looked over her shoulder back down into the alley, leaning as far backwards as she could while still holding onto the pipe. "Mother, I'm sorry," she whispered.
The shape at the bottom of the alley disappeared, leaving nothing but cement and garbage behind.
Regretfully, Phoebe straightened, stepped away from the edge of the roof, and released the pipe. She was immediately surrounded by people who were all trying to hug her at once. Her first thought was that this couldn't be good for the baby. Then she remembered there wasn't going to be a baby. She began crying, hard sobs that wracked her body. The people around her held on to her as best they could, trying to make reassuring sounds even as they themselves were crying. She clung to them and spilled her grief onto them and they accepted it and took it as their own and tried with all their heart to ease the burden.
Phoebe sobbed for several minutes before finally subsiding. She knew it was just a temporary reprieve, that the sobs would return in force later. But she also knew the people around her would be there too, and that comforted her a bit.
"Okay, well, I'm going then. I don't suppose you could give me cab fare? Plus maybe a bonus or something."
"Ursula!" Phoebe shrugged everyone off, ran over to her sister, hugged her tightly. "Thank you."
Ursula made an annoyed sound as Phoebe kept hugging her. After perhaps a minute she lifted her arms, put them across Phoebe's back, and for the briefest of instances applied pressure, making it a genuine hug. Then Ursula forcibly separated them, looked at Phoebe with that same hard expressionless face that was only slightly spoiled by the watering of her eyes. Ursula whirled and left the roof.
Joey came up to Phoebe, the others not far behind. "Gonna be okay, Pheebs?"
"Not... not for a long while." She turned and hugged him. "But I think I will be, eventually."
"Good." Joey sounded very relieved, which she supposed he had a right to be.
"We should get you back into bed." Ross's voice was tentative but friendly.
"O-okay." Phoebe allowed them to guide her towards the door. "Can we stop and see Mike first?"
"Of course," Rachel replied. "I want to see him too. But only for a minute. You need some rest."
"Okay." Phoebe sagged slightly in Joey's grasp as they walked down the stairs. Somehow she knew that he would keep her from falling until she could walk on her own.
---
(to be continued)