Disclaimer: I don't own this.
A.N: Sorry for the long wait. I got stuck, then lost interest in Friends as such, but after an email I recieved today, inspiration just came to me. Here you go. TWO CHAPTERS UP TODAY.
Daniel pops a grape into his mouth and I watch him poke at the ice cream with his spoon. I take a deep breath and I close my eyes briefly. I wonder how he will react to finding that Chandler, and not Simon Porter, is his dad. I wonder if he will hate me, and I decide that it is fine if he does. He doesn't need to understand or forgive; the important thing is that he knows.
"How's the ice cream, honey?" I ask, the nervousness I feel seeping through to my voice. Daniel looks up, and smiles, popping another grape into his mouth. He tells me that it's 'd'licis' and I reach over with my fork to grab a tiny piece ice cream from his bowl. "Danny?" He is playing with his spoon, pretending that it is a chopper, and he makes it hover above his ice cream mountain and a grape and a chocolate fish miraculously jump on board with a little help from his fingers. "Don't play with you food, honey!" I reprimand, and he gives me an innocent smile. I hand him a napkin and he obediently wipes the ice cream off his fingers. "Sweetie, there something we need to talk about." He fidgets around on his chair, and refuses to meet my gaze.
"I didn't mean to." He tells me, still not meeting my eyes, and I have no idea what he is talking about. "He wouldn't stop, a-and he said that… he said mean things about you, mommy… and I hit him." He looks up from underneath his fringe and I can see that he is crying. Without warning he bolts into my arms and I hug him tight. "He said that I didn't have a dad because… because you didn't know who it is…" My son clings to my chest, his arms wrapped tightly around my neck.
"Ssshh, sweetie." I tell him softly even though the anger is bubbling within me. "Who told you that?" I feel bad because even though the allegations are wrong, I am the main factor behind the fact that my son doesn't know his dad. I am also upset because, even in our modern society, my son isn't completely accepted by his friends because he only has one parent. The fact that my son hit a class mate seems insignificant compared to the other things going on right now, and I know that Daniel would never hit someone unless provoked.
"Julian." He says, and I search my memory of a kid named Julian, but I come up empty-handed. "He-he's in third grade…" I hug Daniel tighter, and he wipes his cheek against my shirt. "He said that you were a bad lady…" His voice cracks a little and despite wanting to go out and strangle little Julian, I merely hug my son tighter. The accusation, even though it comes from an eight year old, hurts, because I know that he wouldn't just have made it up, he must have heard it from some one else. Probably his parents. I take a deep breath and rub my son's back comfortingly.
"It's not true, Daniel." I tell him softly. "I know your father. In fact I know him very well." Daniel looks up at me, and I see that he is confused. I know that what I tell him now differs quite a bit from the story I told him once before. He looks just as confused as when I told him that I loved his father, even though I had previously claimed only to have known him for two days. "You remember when I told you about your daddy, right?" He nods a little and I move him from one leg to the other. "I lied, Daniel." I whisper, and he looks hurt and even more confused.
"He isn't my dad?" He asks, and forces his way out of my lap and back onto his own chair. He starts messing with his grapes and ice cream again. I shake my head, and Daniel frowns.
"No, I didn't tell you the truth. See, your dad was a very close friend of mine. He went to college with Uncle Ross, and I've known him since then. He used to live with Uncle Joey, right across the hall." Daniel looks doubtful, and he seems deep in thought. I study his face for a few seconds, and I wonder again how he will react to the truth. "Honey?" I ask, just to get his full attention, and his gaze focuses on mine. "Listen carefully now, Ben's Uncle Chandler, the man who came by earlier, he is your dad." Daniel shakes his head in confusion, or denial, or just plain shock.
"No." He says, stubbornly. "If he's my dad, why didn't he ever come see me?" I take his hand, but he still refuses to look at me.
"You shouldn't blame him for that. I never told him about you, until today." My son throws a tantrum then. I sit frozen to my chair as he flings his plate off the table, and I don't say a word as it crashes to floor and breaks into a million pieces. He topples over his chair, staring at me defiantly. I don't say a word; I let him rage, even as he knocks over the lamp by the phone table. The bang of his door slamming shut echoes through the room, but after the sound has died down all I can hear is his cries. Only then do I move. I pick up the pieces of the broken plate and mop up the ice cream from the floor. I pick up the lamp from the floor, placing it where it used to be. Then, while listening to his wild sobbing I sit down on the couch in the living room. I feel like I don't have any right to intrude on his rage, I don't wish to corner him if he can't stand me.
He comes out of his room in the middle of the night, and stands in the doorway glancing at me where I am sitting on the couch, glaring at the turned off television.
"I'm sorry I broke the plate, mommy." He says, looking embarrassed. I look away from the blank screen, and focus on him. I am shocked by how small he looks. How incredibly innocent he seems, standing there in his pajamas, head bent down slightly in shame. I open my mouth to say something, unconsciously moving to the edge of the couch. I feel so bad for hurting him. He launches himself into my arms suddenly and I press his small weight as close to my body as I possibly can.
"Don't be sorry, Danny." I tell him, my voice weak and shaky. "I don't mind the plate, and it's really mommy who should be sorry." He presses his tear wet face into my shoulder and I rub his back. "Mommy is sorry, honey. So very sorry."