Fallen
Three: I'll Take You With Me
The car ride home was painfully quiet—the only sound beyond the humming of the car engine was that of Jack's soft snoring—a subtle reminder that Monica and Chandler were going home with only one of their children.
Chandler knew this route by heart—after all, he'd made the trek in and out of the city nearly every day for over six years. Instinctively, he changed lanes half a mile from their exit, his eyes focused vaguely on the road before him.
The police had told them that there was nothing more that they could do tonight. They had told the worn couple to go home, and that they would call when they had news. Monica had reluctantly agreed to go home, after Chandler softly reminded her that they should put Jack to bed.
Chandler stole a short glance at his wife, his heart aching at the sight before him. Monica was curled in the seat, her arms wrapped tightly around her tiny legs, her forehead resting on the passenger side window. She was staring straight ahead, but her vacant expression told Chandler that she wasn't really looking at anything. He sighed softly, and forced himself to concentrate on the road ahead, lest he become the cause of yet another disaster tonight.
Several minutes later, he pulled their 4-Runner into the driveway, and turned off the engine. When Monica made no move to get out of the car, he opened the front door, got out, and opened the back door to gather Jack.
Jack sighed restlessly when Chandler picked him up, but immediately settled into his father's arms. Chandler carried the sleeping boy carefully into the house, flipping on lights only when necessary, and pausing for a short moment, before reluctantly settling Jack into his bed.
A chill ran through him, as he watched his son sleeping soundly before him. Fighting back tears, Chandler kissed Jack on the forehead, pulled off his shoes, and pulled the blankets over his son's slumbering form. He rose, and closed Jack's door only slightly, before making his way down the hall.
On his way to the staircase, he passed Erica's bedroom. A sharp pain coursed through him, and he paused in front of her door. Slowly, he reached out, and turned the doorknob, before pushing the door ajar.
Her room was exactly how they had left it this morning—an outfit she'd discarded had been carelessly tossed onto the foot of the bed—her favorite teddy bear—a gift from her Uncle Joey—was sitting prominently on her pillow, it's amber eyes shining merrily.
Chandler walked hesitantly into the room, and picked up the bear slowly. He straightened the bear's tiny t-shirt—a bright pink shirt with the word Hollywood! emblazoned across it in bright yellow letters. Monica thought the shirt was horribly tacky, but Erica adored it, and for months after Joey had given it to her, she'd taken it everywhere with her.
Smiling sadly, Chandler knelt beside his daughter's bed, and hugged the bear to his chest…
"Daddy, you forgot to kiss Bear," Erica smiled, and held out the lifeless toy.
"Oh, I'm sorry Bear!" Chandler laughed, and kissed the stuffed animal quickly, "Good night!"
"Wait!" Erica cried, in a desperate attempt to extend her bedtime.
Chandler sighed and turned toward Erica, "Honey, it's time to go to sleep."
"Can you just sing one song? Pleeeease!"
Shaking his head in defeat, Chandler kneeled next to Erica's bed, and ruffled her hair playfully.
"One song, then you are going to sleep!"
"Okay!"
"Okay…let's see. What do little girls that refuse to go to sleep usually listen to?"
"Daddy!"
Chandler laughed, and pulled Erica into his arms.
"Would you like to swing on a star," he sang softly, "Carry moonbeams home in a jar…and be better off than you are…you could be swinging on a star…"
.
Monica watched as Chandler carried Jack into the house. Her mind was racing. How could this have happened to them? After all that they had been through just to get their children, how could someone just take that away? Tears filled her eyes, and as they slid down her cheeks, she dropped her head into her hands.
It was the worst thing that could have happened to them. Her shoulders trembled, as her silent tears became sobs. Her body began to tremble violently, and she suddenly felt like she was suffocating. She looked up at the house that stood in front of her—now staring back at her ominously, as if judging her, telling her that everything about this was wrong.
She let out a pain filled sob, before hiccupping through several breaths.
Her mind continued to race through any and every worst-case scenario, and she began to feel uncontrollable panic set in.
As her sobs became more pronounced, she let out a pained, primal scream, and buried her face in her hands.
The car door swung open, but she hardly noticed. Her mind was heavy and hazy, and she was hardly aware that her seatbelt had been unfastened, and that she had been lifted from her seat.
She shivered, as the night air hit her, and she buried her face in the crook of a neck she knew well.
She had buried her face in his neck many times—and he had always been there to help her through the worst moments of her life.
But tonight, she knew that he could not make things better—he could not take away the pain she was feeling.
This time, he was the cause.
Or was he? She was so confused…so lost. She clung to him as he moved to set her on the sofa, needing him to be there, with her, his presence reassuring, somehow.
Yet it was still there…that nagging need to blame him for something…would this had happened if she'd been there? Perhaps it was her fault? What had gone wrong tonight?
Too exhausted to think about it any more, she buried her face in Chandler's chest, and struggled to find comfort in his embrace.
.
"She's asleep now. I don't know, she hasn't said much."
Monica opened her eyes, and strained to listen to her husband's hushed voice in the next room. Who was he talking to this time of night? She sat up, and noted that the sun was beginning to ascend in the horizon.
"Okay, see you soon. Bye." She heard Chandler hang up the phone, and she looked up at him as he entered the living room.
"Hey," he whispered, slightly surprised that she was awake.
"Who was on the phone?" Monica asked sharply.
"Ross," Chandler replied, then circled the sofa to sit next to her. She stood up as he sat down, and crossed the room.
"You told him? Don't you think you should have at least talked to me about it first?"
"He already knew. The police called him, and freaked him out! They're gonna call everyone, eventually. We need to tell people what's going on," Chandler explained gently.
"I…I don't want people to know! Do you have any idea what my mother will do when she finds out?"
Chandler furrowed his brow, "Monica, she'll be concerned, just like Ross and Rachel are. They're on their way over, they want to help."
"She's gonna think I'm a bad mother," Monica continued, "That I can't handle taking care of two kids! That's what they'll think!"
"Monica, you need to calm down! No one is gonna think that! It was an accident—and it wasn't your fault!"
Monica stared at Chandler silently for a moment, then nodded slowly.
"No…I should have been there," she muttered quietly.
"What do you mean by that, exactly?" Chandler asked cautiously.
The phone rang, and both Chandler and Monica jumped. Monica rushed to the phone, and picked up the receiver.
"Hello?" she said loudly, anxiously, "Oh, hi Phoebe. No, I—I thought you were someone else. No, we don't know anything…no, it's okay, we'll call you when we hear something. I will. Thanks, Phoebs. Okay. Bye."
"Monica—" Chandler started.
"I'm gonna go check on Jack," Monica said quietly, as she swallowed down the lump that was forming in her throat again. She brushed past Chandler wordlessly, and ascended the stairs as quickly as she could.
Chandler collapsed onto the sofa in defeat.
.
"Do they have any idea who took her?" Ross queried, an hour later. He and Chandler were seated in the living room, sipping coffee.
"They have a video…and they are gonna try to go from that, I guess," Chandler shrugged.
"How's Monica holding up?" Ross asked quietly. His sister had been unusually quiet since he and Rachel had arrived.
"Not well. She slept for an hour or two, but was crying most of the night. But she'll barely look at me much less talk to me," Chandler sighed.
"Well, my parents said they'd watch Emma and Sam as long as we need them too. I'm sure if you need them to watch Jack they will."
"No, I think we'd rather have him here with us," Chandler replied quietly.
"What about you? How are you doing?"
"I'm okay. I just…I can't believe this is happening, ya know? I can't believe I turned away—"
"Chandler, this isn't your fault. It could have happened to any of us. You can't let this eat at you, man. You'll go mad."
Chandler nodded, and looked at his hands.
"The thing is, I keep seeing the image from that videotape in my head. I can't get it out, it's like it's on a continuous loop. And all I keep thinking is—I should have never turned away. She would be here right now if I hadn't turned away."
"Chandler—"
"And I know that's what Monica is thinking. I know she blames me, Ross. I can see it in her eyes."
"She loves you. And you two are going to get through this."
"I don't want to get through it!" Chandler snapped, "I want to find my daughter."
"I know, okay? I know," Ross held up his hands defensively, "That's not what I meant."
"I'm sorry," Chandler shook his head, "I know what you meant. I'm just…I just don't—"
"It's okay," Ross pulled his friend and brother into a hug, "We're gonna help you, I promise, we'll find her."
.
"What did my mom say when you told them?" Monica asked quietly, as she set a cup of coffee in front of Rachel and took a seat at the kitchen table.
"We didn't tell them anything. Ross told them that you were going to call them today."
"I don't want to tell her," Monica shook her head.
"Mon, they're going to need to know. They're going to want to help."
"I know…I guess I just…talking about it is just…I can't," Monica sighed.
"Ross and I can talk to them, if you want. We're gonna call to check on the kids later anyway."
"No…I should tell them…I guess I just…I guess I was hoping that they would have found her by now."
"They'll find her," Rachel placed a supportive hand on Monica's arm, "you said they have a video, right?"
"Yeah," Monica said darkly, images from the video haunting her.
"They must have something then," Rachel nodded.
"I hope so," Monica whispered.
"How's Jack?" Rachel asked tentatively.
"He's okay. We told him that she was okay, and that she would be back soon. But I think he knows that something's wrong."
Rachel noted Monica's refusal to say her daughter's name. She had noticed it earlier, when she and Ross had first come over. Since their arrival, Rachel had yet to hear Monica or Chandler utter Erica's name out loud.
"Maybe you should talk to him about it," Rachel suggested, "Ask him what he remembers."
"No," Monica shook her head, "I don't want him to feel like he did something wrong."
"No one did anything wrong, Monica. It wasn't anyone's fault, except the person that took Erica."
Monica nodded, but Rachel could see that she disagreed with her.
"Maybe we should go into the living room," Rachel suggested.
"You go," Monica smiled tightly, "I'm gonna go check on Jack."
Rachel nodded, and watched as Monica walked out of the kitchen and up the stairs to Jack's bedroom. She walked into the living room and sat down next to her husband.
"How is she?" Ross asked quietly.
"Okay. But I think she's blaming herself a lot," Rachel sighed.
Chandler winced, and looked up at the staircase longingly.
Though she was under the same roof, Chandler was beginning to miss his wife terribly.
The fear of losing all that he had was overwhelming, and unsure how to handle it, he stood up, quietly excused himself, and walked out the front door.
("Swinging on a Star" words & music by Johnny Burke and Jimmy Van Heusen)
