Fallen
Five: A Deeper Shade of Blue
The house had settled into such a deep silence, he could hear the rhythmic tick-tock of his wristwatch, tossed carelessly onto his nightstand hours earlier.
This kind of complete silence was rare, and it reminded Chandler of his first few restless nights in this house.
So accustomed was he to the constant buzz of the City, that he'd had trouble adjusting to the complete silence of suburbia.
At first, he'd found the saccharine environment and total silence disturbing, but over the years, he'd grown accustomed to the comfortable lifestyle, and now he found that a lone car traveling down their street in the middle of the night was enough to rouse him.
On this night, the silence disturbed him once more, but for entirely different reasons. Worse, he couldn't rely on Monica's deep breathing to calm him--she had gotten out of bed an hour ago, convinced that he had dozed off. He'd lain awake for several minutes, waiting for her to come back, but she never did. And when he'd finally got up to search for her, he'd found her, snuggled in bed with Jack, fast asleep.
So now he lay in bed alone, feeling cold, a bit nauseous, and wide-awake.
Ross and Rachel had gone home soon after the police left, both looking a bit shaken, but neither saying much, other than that they would be back in the morning. Phoebe had called as well, wanting an update, and Chandler had finally gathered the strength to phone Joey in Los Angeles a few hours later.
"Hey, Chandler, long time no talk!"
"Yeah…I had to talk to two or three of your assistants to get through to you…you must be doing well," Chandler chuckled softly.
"Well, the show is going into syndication, which means I never have to work again," Joey said excitedly, "and I just got a script today from Gus Van Sant—"
"Sounds like it's going well Joe—listen, the reason I'm calling—I kinda have news, and—"
"News? You don't sound very excited—must not be good," Joey joked.
"It's not," Chandler sat back in his office chair heavily, and let out a deep breath, "Erica's missing."
"What? What do you mean, missing?"
"Someone took her," tears welled up in Chandler's eyes, and he rubbed them with the heel of his hand quickly, "the police are looking into it, but—"
"God, Chandler, this is—how's Monica taking it?"
"Not well. She's trying to stay strong for Jack—but it's killing her."
"How's Jack? Was he there when she…?"
"Yeah, he was there—he seems okay—I don't know," Chandler shook his head slowly.
"How about you, man? How are you holding up?" Joey's voice was solid yet soft, and Chandler knew that he wouldn't be able to keep it together if Joey started crying too.
"I'm…getting by. Listen, I'd better go. I just…I didn't want you to read about it in the paper or something…"
"What can I do, Chandler? You tell me, and I'm there, okay? Look, the show wraps on Friday, so I'm gonna fly out—"
"You don't have to—"
"I want to. I'll do anything I can."
"Thanks, Joe."
"Take care of yourself, and Mon and Jack. I swear I'll be there as soon as I can."
.
Chandler peered at the clock, and noted that it was close to four in the morning. He hadn't slept a wink, and was certain that he wouldn't. Sighing heavily, he pulled himself out of bed, and pulled on his robe, before padding down the hall. He peered into Jack's room, and saw that he and Monica were still sound asleep. Quietly, he walked downstairs and into the kitchen.
The kitchen was relatively dark, save for the moonlight that shone through the window over the sink and sliding glass door that lead to the backyard. Chandler opened the fridge, and a flood of artificial light filled the room. He rooted around in the fridge for a minute, not really knowing what he was looking for. After a moment, he pulled out an apple, and shut the door.
He sat down at the kitchen table, and twisted the stem of the apple listlessly, as he stared blankly at the empty chair across from him.
In his mind's eye, he could see his daughter, sitting in that chair, smiling back at him, or talking animatedly about her day. Sometimes she would get so excited, she'd toss her spoon halfway across the room, sending whatever-was-on-the-spoon flying in every direction. Monica would scold her, and he would laugh, and Monica would glare at him for laughing. In the end, she would laugh too.
The stem of the apple snapped off, bringing Chandler back to reality. He set down the apple, and wiped more tears from his eyes.
"Do you want me to cook you something?" Monica said softly, though her sudden presence made Chandler jump visibly.
"Jesus, Mon," he said breathlessly.
"Sorry," she shrugged and sat down in the chair he had been staring at moments earlier.
"I didn't mean to wake you, I—"
"You didn't," Monica interrupted.
"I couldn't sleep," Chandler finished, and picked up the apple once more.
Monica looked down at the apple, and sighed. She wondered what he must have thought, seeing her sleeping soundly in Jack's room.
It wasn't that she didn't want to sleep with him; it was that she couldn't.
She had an urgent need to be near Jack, as if somehow, that would bring her closer to Erica.
She knew it would sound silly out loud, so instead of explaining, she just sighed again.
"I could make you some breakfast. You must be hungry, you haven't eaten at all since—"
"I'm not really hungry," Chandler set down the apple, and put his head in his hands.
He looked so utterly helpless, in that moment in the moonlight. Monica felt her throat clench, and she moved to stand.
Chandler looked up suddenly, startling her.
"Don't leave, Mon. Please," he whispered pleadingly.
She circled the table, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.
"I'm not leaving,"
He pulled her onto his lap, and buried his face in her shoulder. He began to tremble, and she let out a sob, and in that moment, they were one again.
.
Two Days Later
"Rachel's right, you should get out of the house for a while," Chandler said softly, as he watched Jack play with his oatmeal blankly, "Jack needs some fresh air too."
"What about you? You should come with us," Monica argued, as she set a steaming bowl of oatmeal in front of Chandler.
"Someone should stay here in case…" Chandler drifted off.
Monica looked at Chandler for a moment, then nodded slowly and sank into the chair next to him.
"Alright. But you'll call if you hear—"
"Of course I will," Chandler placed his hand on hers, and smiled reassuringly.
.
He watched as Monica packed up a bag of things—toys, snacks, and anything else she thought she and Jack may need while on a day trip into the city. Chandler marveled at her organizational skills sometimes—she always had exactly what she needed when she needed it. If one of the kids took a spill in the playground, she was ready with antiseptic wipes and Band-Aids. If they somehow ended up stuck on a subway in Manhattan, she was prepared with travel games and snacks to keep the kids calm. She was the picture of perfection, a stellar mother, and the most organized person he'd ever known.
He'd often relied on her organization, on her super-mom abilities, to get by. He himself was not quite as put together, and over the years he had become increasingly reliant on her to make him look good.
He was a better father, husband, person—because of her.
His slight smile faded, as he came to realize that magnitude of his mistake—he had failed her, in the worst kind of way. The question of whether he'd ever be able to forgive himself was dwarfed by the question of whether she would ever forgive him—whether they would ever be able to move past this.
In the end, he realized, none of that mattered. Erica was the only thing that mattered now—and he would focus all of his energy on ensuring her safe return—regardless of the effect it would have on his marriage.
On his own soul.
"Chandler?" Monica's voice pulled him from his thoughts, and he blinked and looked down at her confused face.
"Huh?"
"You okay? You looked…lost."
"Yeah…just thinking," Chandler smiled slightly.
"Oh," Monica nodded. Normally she would dig further, ask him what he was thinking about, but she couldn't bring herself to inquire any more—she didn't want in on his dark thoughts.
She had too many of her own to deal with.
"We're gonna go. We won't be long," Monica pulled her bag onto her shoulder, then crouched down to pick up Jack. Chandler leaned down to kiss his son goodbye.
"See you soon, son," he whispered softly.
"Are you going to see Erica?" Jack replied.
The question took Chandler off guard. He stepped back slightly, and just managed to shake his head.
"No, honey, daddy is gonna stay here. We are going to see Uncle Ross and Aunt Rachel and your cousins, okay?" Monica stepped in, after shooting Chandler a dark look.
"You guys have fun," Chandler managed a smile, and watched as Monica carried Jack out the front door. Jack looked back at him, a look of concern on his face.
Chandler waited for the door to close before collapsing to his knees.
The sound of someone pounding on the front door roused Chandler, and he jumped from the sofa to answer it. He looked at his watch, and realized that Monica and Jack had been gone for nearly two hours. He hardly remembered drifting off.
He opened the door, and was only mildly surprised to see Officer Lewis and another uniformed officer on the other side.
"Mr. Bing, I'm glad you're here," Officer Lewis said grimly.
"What's going on? Did you find her?"
"Is your wife here, Mr. Bing?"
"N-no," Chandler shook his head. His body began trembling visibly.
"Sir, perhaps we should discuss this inside," the other officer offered.
"What's going on?" Chandler demanded.
"Sir, please," Officer Lewis stepped forward, and the three men made their way into the house. Chandler led the officers to the living room, and sat on the edge of one of the reading chairs slowly. The officers both sat on the sofa, neither making eye contact.
"Did you find her?" Chandler asked again, his voice raspy.
Officer Lewis looked up, his expression unreadable. In the seconds in took the officer to reply, Chandler was certain he was going to explode.
"We got a call from our colleagues in New Jersey."
"N-new Jersey?" Chandler echoed.
"Mr. Bing, there really is no easy way to say this—we need you to come with us."
"W-why?" Chandler managed, though he dreaded the answer.
"They found a little girl—in a ravine off of the highway. They are working on identifying her, but it would be faster if you could—"
"She—the girl—she'd dead?"
"I'm afraid so. Sir, we'd like you to come with us—to identify the—to make an identification."
What am I to you
Tell me darling true
To me you are the sea
Fast as you can be
And deep the shade of blue
When you're feeling low
To whom else do you go
See I cry if you hurt
I'd give you my last shirt
Because I love you so
If my sky should fall
Would you even call
Opened up my heart
I never want to part
I'm giving you the ball
When I look in your eyes
I can feel the butterflies
I love you when you're blue
Tell me darlin' true
What am I to you
Yeah well if my sky should fall
Would you even call
Opened up my heart
Never wanna part
I'm giving you the ball
When I look in your eyes
I can feel the butterflies
Could you find a love in me
Could you carve me in a tree
Don't fill my heart with lies
I will you love when you're blue
Tell me darlin' true
What am I to you
What am I to you
What am I to you
(What Am I to You – Norah Jones)
