Fallen
Four: In The Still of The Night
He walked out the front door quickly—but didn't go far. Instead, he reached behind a large hedge that sat up against the house, fumbled around through some stones, and found what he was looking for.
He pulled the pack of cigarettes out of the Ziploc bag, and stuffed the plastic into his pants pocket. Sighing heavily, he sat down on the porch step, and pulled a cigarette and his lighter out of the wrinkled red package.
He was pretty sure that Monica was well aware that the cigarettes were there—it seemed they had formed an unspoken agreement about his habit—he would smoke in secret, and she would pretend she didn't know about it.
He hadn't smoked in a while, though, so when he lit the stick and inhaled deeply, he felt a warmth rush through him that he'd nearly forgotten.
It was a warmth that he cherished.
The front door opened, but Chandler made no move to extinguish his cigarette. Somehow he knew that the person standing behind him was not Monica.
And he was right.
Rachel sat down next to him slowly, never taking her eyes off of him as he inhaled again.
"I thought you quit…again?" Rachel sighed with a slight sad smile.
"I don't think we ever quit…not really," Chandler said after he blew out a plume a smoke.
"She doesn't really blame you…she just…needs to put her emotions somewhere…I think," Rachel said softly.
"I know," Chandler whispered, and tapped the end of his cigarette slowly, "I just wish…she would let me in."
"She needs time. She doesn't know what to do, ya know?"
"And I do?" Chandler laughed bitterly.
"That's not what I meant. Look, Chandler, it could have happened to any of us—any one of us," Rachel echoed darkly.
"But it didn't, Rach, it happened to me—to my daughter. It's not like anyone had a lot of confidence in my parenting skills beforehand, ya know?"
"Chandler, this has nothing to do with that—and you are a wonderful father—"
"Right," Chandler shook his head, "tell that to my wife."
"Chandler, come on. This isn't going to help Erica. You and Monica need each other, because you are the only person in the world right now who understands her pain, and she yours. Despite what she may say, Chandler, she needs you. And you need her, and you both need to focus on finding Erica now. What's done is done." Rachel took a breath, and placed a supportive hand on Chandler's forearm, "This is not your fault."
Chandler looked at Rachel, tears lining his eyes.
"I know this may sound selfish Rach—but I really need to hear that from Monica. I need her to tell me that she doesn't blame me—she hasn't done that." He whispered.
"She will…I'm sure she will," Rachel smiled.
.
"Hey, big guy!" Ross smiled widely, as Monica carried her bleary-eyed son down the stairs and into the living room. Jack didn't reply—he simply rubbed his eyes and plopped his head onto Monica's shoulder.
"He's still sleepy," Monica said, exhaustion lining her own voice.
"Maybe you should try to get some rest, Mon," Ross suggested, "I can keep an eye on Jack."
"I'm okay," Monica replied shortly, as she settled onto the sofa and settled Jack into her arms.
"Mon—you guys should—should maybe talk," Ross said tentatively.
"What?" Monica arched her eyebrow, confused.
"You and Chandler."
"Oh," Monica nodded slowly, then scanned the room, "where'd he go?"
"Outside, I think—he kind of stormed out. Rachel went after him."
Monica swallowed hard, and closed her eyes.
"You two need each other, ya know?" Ross said quietly.
Monica opened her eyes, and looked up at Ross. Tears formed under her eyes, but as she moved to speak, the front door opened, and Chandler and Rachel walked in, followed by several uniformed officers.
"What's going on?" Ross asked, as Rachel approached.
"Mon, why don't we take Jack into the kitchen," Rachel suggested, and Monica nodded. Ross picked Jack up off of Monica's lap, and Rachel smiled at him.
"Hey Jack, are you hungry? Let's go get a snack."
Jack's eyes landed on the police officers that had gathered in his home, and his eyes widened with a mixture of curiosity and terror. He clung to Ross' shirt collar as Ross and Rachel walked into the kitchen, his eyes never leaving the officers.
"Mr. and Mrs. Bing, my name is Officer Lewis. I'm sorry to come unannounced, but—"
"No, it's fine," Chandler said hastily, and Monica circled to sofa to stand next to her husband.
"We'd like to set up some equipment here, to monitor any calls that may come into the house," Officer Lewis explained.
"Wh-why?" Monica asked quietly.
"There is a possibility that the kidnappers may want to contact you—to demand ransom. We'd like to be able to trace the call."
"S-so, you haven't found anything?" Monica asked, her heart clenching at the very thought of hearing the voice of the person who took her daughter.
"No, I'm sorry, we don't have much," Officer Lewis smiled sympathetically, "but we're doing everything we can."
"Oh," Monica's shoulders dropped, and her mind drifted, as the officer began explaining the process to her and Chandler.
She looked up at her husband, who was nodding attentively, though his eyes revealed his true feelings. She could see that he was just as disappointed as she was, that the officer had no news to report. In that moment she felt a wave of love and affection rush through her, and her brother's earlier advice echoed in her mind.
They only had each other.
As the officer continued talking, Monica took Chandler's hand in his, and squeezed it gently. He stole a short glance toward her, smiling reassuringly, then squeezed her hand in return.
It was a small gesture, but one that he needed more than he could begin to explain. It took all that he had not to sweep her into his arms, and hold her close, and whisper a thousand 'I love you's' and apologies. It took all of his strength not to collapse into sobs each time Officer Lewis mentioned his daughter's name. He stood strong, he stood firm—because he knew that he needed to be the one to get them through this.
Because in spite of everything that anyone had said—Ross, Rachel, Phoebe, Officer Lewis—he still blamed himself—and deep down, he knew that Monica still did too.
He would fix this. He had to.
.
Erica looked up at her captor with wide eyes, her lips pursed tightly, refusing to open.
"Come on little one," the woman cooed softly, "you have to eat sometime."
A spoon was lifted to her lips, and she turned her head stubbornly, her eyes closed tight, shutting away the world around her.
"You will eat, my dear. Eventually, you'll have no other choice."
.
"Come on, I know you love this stuff!" Rachel smiled, stirring the pudding slowly, "Why won't you eat, sweetie?"
"I don't wanna," Jack pouted, shaking his head.
"Aren't you hungry?" Ross asked softly.
"I won't eat!" Jack said angrily.
"Okay, okay. You don't have to—but your mom thought you might be hungry…" Ross replied in a sing-song tone, trying to persuade him.
"Erica won't eat," Jack said quietly.
Ross and Rachel looked at each other, both feeling shivers run down their spines.
"Wh-what did you say?" Rachel whispered.
"I said I don't want to eat," Jack said, and pushed the bowl of pudding away.
Ross looked at Rachel, who had gone pale.
"That's not what I heard," he whispered softly.
In the still of the night
As I gaze out of my window
At the moon in its flight
My thoughts all stray, stray to you
In the still of the night
While the world lies in slumber
Oh the times without number
When I say to you
Do you love me
Like I love you
Are you my life to be
That dream come true
Or will this dream of mine
Will it fade way out of sight
Just like that moon growing dim
Way out on the rim of the hill
In the still of the night
("In the Still of the Night", Cole Porter)
