One-Shot: What I Can't Live Without
He had to carry her to bed that night.
Afternoon had gradually darkened into night. It had been hours since their world had been inverted, and Monica had yet to stop crying.
Not that Chandler blamed her. He didn't. Not in the slightest. He merely held her against him in their bed, stroking her dark hair, watching the ceiling fan rotate listlessly from where he was propped up against the headboard.
Curled into her husband's chest, Monica sniffled.
"I'm sorry…. It's all my f-fault…."
"No….." Chandler murmured, shaking his head. If anything, it was he who deserved a lion's share of the blame, even as a part of him knew that, too, was irrational. Who could be blamed for this?
He felt his wife stir against him, lifting her eyes to his. Her deep blue eyes that, even in the dim light of their bedroom, sparkled with tears.
"You don't have to stay, you know…" she mumbled, and Chandler felt his heart turn to ice as he sensed in her tone that she didn't just mean he had to stay in their room. "You deserve to be with…"
"Stop," he cut her off, firmly. "Don't you ever say anything like that again!" Eyes expanding, she nodded dumbly. Craning up, she kissed him tenderly, sobs choking through with every give and take of their lips.
As he kissed her, Chandler let himself stew in his feelings of helplessness and uncontrollable rage. The world was cruel and wicked: he'd learned that at an earlier age than most, the lesson taught to him by his parents, two people who, while they loved him in their own way, had never seemed to care about his feelings or how their choices would affect him.
Chandler never thought that the world's cruelty and wickedness would even think of going after, coming for, Monica. Not his Monica.
It had been his wife's dearest wish, her dream, to start a family. Have a baby of her own. Chandler would watch with amusement, fascination and overflowing love at how Monica's sapphire eyes would light up whenever she talked about her dream, babbling and prattling on about where the baby's crib would go, making lists in her head. She was organized to the point of fastidiousness, had researched all the best daycares and primary schools. She had even used her skills as a chef to compare store-bought brands of breast milk. Had she been pregnant at the time or able to pump, she probably would have attempted to cross-reference with her own breast milk.
He hadn't thought to wonder if such advanced planning, even when Monica had not been pregnant, had brought down some sort of bad luck upon their heads. If such maternal nesting had signaled to the cosmos an arrogance that needed to be brought low.
For now that dream, his wife's yearning to carry and bear a child, seemed irreversibly dead.
Chandler held Monica closer. Kissed her hair. His thoughts continued to brood darkly, as he cursed the world, cursed God, cursed inhospitable uteruses, cursed himself.
He felt Monica shift against him with a whimper. She pressed herself against him tighter still, one leg draped over his, burrowing herself in his warmth. Her breath came out of her in a shuddering exhale, and he felt her body begin to relax, if only slightly, close to all cried out.
You cry your eyes out, honey…. He thought. Hell, from the moisture that was burning the back of his irises, he wanted to cry too. Chandler could only resist a moment more before his own tears began streaming down his face.
He felt Monica squirm again, and glancing down, he could tell she had noticed his own tears, which she lovingly began to kiss away.
"We're gonna figure this out, Mon…." Chandler reiterated to her. "We'll get a baby – I promise. I don't care how we do it – well, short of breaking the law."
Her chuckle was mirthless, even as she drew back to eye him helplessly. "It's not the same…."
"I know it's not the same…." He murmured, granting her a sad smile. He drew her even tighter against him, feeling how she was cold, and drew the coverlet of their bed up over both of them.
A silence of almost damning finality settled over the married couple. When Chandler finally broke it, his voice was hoarse, either from lack of use, crying, or both.
"Monica…. I'm so….. so sorry….."
"It's not your fault…." She whispered.
Yes, it is, Chandler allowed in his darkest thoughts. "I hate that this has happened to you. To us. But, Mon…." He felt her turn her head, blinking at him dolefully. "… if I'm being honest: I can live without being a father." Gazing at her, running his fingers through her dark, ebony hair, Chandler felt the lump in his throat and nearly choked on it. "What I can't live without is being your husband. I can't live without you – and I don't really want to try…."
Monica gawped at him, her eyes welling up. "…. You - you could, you know," she floated gently. "I wouldn't want to be the one who holds you back…."
"Enough," Chandler cut across her. No more. He wished to hear no more of such crazy talk!
She whimpered, then threw her arms around him, weeping bitterly into his neck. "Don't leave me, Chandler!"
"I'm not leaving you," he promised, at once both gentle and resolved. "In good times and bad. In sickness and in health. Remember?"
She sniffled. "I remember…." She whispered. She nuzzled her nose into his neck. "…. God, what did I ever do to deserve you?"
Chandler swallowed hard. "Believe me…." he croaked. "I ask myself the same question every day…." He sensed her twitter into the skin at his shoulder, and he drew back, lifting her chin with his finger so her moistened eyes could peer at him. "Please promise me again….. that you will never leave me! That we will grow old together, children or no children, and be with each other for the rest of our lives."
Monica beamed tearfully. "…. I promise…." They embraced.
"Good," Chandler rumbled. "Now promise me that I'll go first." Sensing her draw back in shock and horror, he felt tears drip down his face anew. "I meant what I said, my love: I can't live without you."
"…. And you think I can live without you?" Monica gawked, not wanting to entertain such morbid thoughts.
Chandler smirked. "Honestly? Yes." Monica immediately began shaking her head No. "Please, baby…. Promise me."
"I…. I…." Monica pursed her lips and started shaking her head, growing teary again. This was a promise beyond her power as a wife to keep. But since it was her Chandler asking, she managed shakily: "I…. I promise…." When he leaned in to kiss her in gratitude, she held up a finger. "But you have to know: should that horrible future come to pass…. I would never marry again. I will never love again."
Chandler nodded thoughtfully. "If that's what you want."
Monica nodded solemnly. "…. That's what I want…."
Chandler and Monica embraced and kissed, settling down to cry themselves to sleep together. They didn't move to make love, not even the raw, anguished kind, but that was all right: Monica was too drained to take comfort in something so pure and carnal. Besides, Chandler's arms were all she needed.
She felt like she was dying. In spite of the torment and grief she felt, there was also a sliver of her soul that felt bizarrely at peace. She snuggled against her husband, wanting to reassure him she was all right, even as they both knew it was a lie:
Don't you fret, my dear Chandler…. I don't feel any pain…. A little fall of rain…. Can hardly hurt me now. This rain will wash away what's passed…. And you will keep me safe…. And you will keep me close…. I'll sleep in your embrace at last…
Chandler woke up the next morning without even remembering falling asleep.
Monica was conked out next to him, half on top of him, the early weekend morning sun making her alabaster skin glow. The relaxed expression on her face belied the anguish that would surely follow her for some time to come.
He extricated himself from his wife's arms as carefully as he dared, though deeply reluctantly. Boldly, he dipped in and softly kissed her lips.
"I love you…." he cooed against her skin, voice clogged with emotion. He prayed she had not forgotten that or doubted it, in their darkest hour the night before. Monica stirred prettily, and hummed, but she did not wake.
The sound of their front door closing made Chandler jerk and he ducked out into the main living area of Apartment 20. There was Joey, looking around in confusion as to why the kitchen was bare this late on a Saturday morning. Chandler waved his arms at him rapidly, face pinched in concern. To his credit, Joey's eyes widened apologetically.
"Fuck, man, I'm sorry! I just assumed…."
"It's all right," Chandler hissed, crossing to his best buddy. "We…. It's been a long night."
Joey's concern only deepened, his face creasing further. "You lovebirds fell asleep in your clothes?"
Chandler grimaced. "Like I said: long night." He crossed to the stove. "Can I get you anything?"
"I don't know: can you?" Joey quibbled, eyeing his old roommate dubiously.
Chandler glanced back at Joey over his shoulder with a smirk. "I can cook now too, you know. I learned at the knee of the best." At Joey's grin turning salacious, Chandler scoffed. "Not what I meant, Joe!"
Joey waved him off, acceding. "Surprise me."
Chandler set to work on an omelette. He tried to remember what kind of seasoning Joey liked, from watching his wife feed their best friend. The way she had always mothered Joey – hell, anyone else in their friend group – had made him and the others seem like her own children, and he fought to not burst into tears. Every instinct in him longed to make a joke at the expense of these musings, perhaps some witty banter to Joey asking if he wasn't too old to be adopted. But, no: even when delivered in his sarcastic style, Joey would be able to sense that something was up.
The rest of the group trickled in slowly, including Ross. Chandler found that he couldn't look his brother-in-law in the eye. Seeing Chandler at the stove plates, Rachel eyed him with a little bit of fear, which on any other morning, would have made Chandler laugh scoffingly. If ever there was a worse cook than him among this bunch, it was Rachel Green – the woman who had made half a trifle and half a shepherd's pie one Thanksgiving without noticing or realizing the two recipe pages were stuck together.
"Where's Mon?"
"Rache, will you calm down? I haven't even served you yet!" Chandler cracked, a bit of genuine frustration bleeding out into his all-too-fake jocular voice.
Rachel grinned sheepishly. "Just asking…."
"She's asleep….. So you idiots try not to wake her. She's had a long night…."
"Why, is she sick?" Phoebe blinked.
"No, she's fine, she's just…."
"Chandler Muriel Bing, did you fall asleep in your clothes?"
Chandler glanced up with a frown at Phoebe's demanding timbre. Annoyed as he was, he felt like he had just been caught in a lie by his mother, and he flushed. "….. Yes."
Joey snorted. "Must have been some long night…." He muttered.
The others all stared at him for his innuendo. "Joey…. How it would make any sense for me to take off all my clothes, go for a round with Monica, then put all my dirty clothes from the day before back on?"
"Dude!" Ross put his hands up in front of his face. "That's my sister…."
"Oh, shut up, Ross, you've heard us say worse!"
Everyone's eyes snapped as one to the door, where Monica had now appeared and was crossing at a lethargic trudge to the kitchen. She didn't even fight it when Chandler gentlemanly pulled out a chair for her. She didn't even so much as demand that he get out of her primary domain and let her take over the cooking, instead sleepily kissing him on the mouth in gratitude.
"She definitely looks sick…." Phoebe muttered to no one in particular, and loud enough for Monica to hear. Everyone openly stared at her.
"What?" Monica frowned.
Rachel smiled sympathetically. "…. Are you feeling OK, honey?"
Monica's brow furrowed further and she glanced back over her shoulder at her husband with a questioning look. Chandler shook his head at her as surreptitiously as he could. Seeing the horrified offense in his eyes that she would even wonder if he had told…. Monica nodded and grimaced at him both gratefully and apologetically.
"I'm fine, Rache. Just…. a long night."
"You know, the more people keep saying that, it's gonna start sounding like a euphemism," Joey grumbled.
Ross stared. "How do you even know what a euphemism is?"
Joey scowled. "I'm just saying: it's like these two are speaking in code. Sounding all clinical. 'Had a long night.' You fucked: we get it!" He shrugged, his eyes bugging a little.
Monica's lips quirked in slight amusement. "We didn't make love, Joey."
"Oh, for God's sakes! Again with the euphemisms! Just say you had sex! You boinked! You went for a ride on the roller coaster!" Joey bawled, leaping to his feet, frustrated.
Monica now giggled. "Trust me, hon: if Chandler and I were…. doing it…. you would know." Ross's eyes popped.
"From all the way across the hall?!" he squeaked.
Chandler was actually grateful for the boys' antics: by all appearances, it made this morning seem almost normal. For a moment, he nearly forgot the hell that had visited him…. he stole a glance at his wife…. Visited them.
He served up Monica's omelette, dipping a kiss into her neck. "Time for the critic's taste testing! Now, try some of that, my love."
Monica lifted her fork, but didn't stab into the culinary creation. She was making an odd face at the omelette. His back to her, Chandler waited for her to say something along the lines of 'Delightfully tangy, yet robust' – fancy chef words for adjudicating another's meal – but it didn't come. After several pregnant moments, he glanced back with concern.
"Mon…..? Honey?"
Her tears were dripping down her nose and into the omelette. "Yellow…." She whimpered. "We…. we were going to paint the nursery yellow!..." The fork clattered to her plate and she burst into tears, burying her face in her palms. The sobs that emanated from her were alto, lowing, bitter and grief-stricken.
Rachel drew a hand to her mouth. Phoebe looked scared; Ross appeared crushed, the pieces clicking into place. Joey leapt out of his seat and circled the table to steal a protective arm around Monica. He even sent Chandler a kind of glower, as if reproaching him, as the husband, for lack of tact.
Rachel's gaze darted to Chandler. "Chandler? Sweetie….? Was she…..? Did she lose the….?" Her voice was coming out in a tear-choked squeak.
Chandler shook his head numbly. "She didn't lose a baby, Rache. There was never any baby to begin with…." Monica started to wail, clutching at Joey.
Rachel spluttered, baffled. "But then… what….?"
Chandler and Monica shared a look. Husband and wife spoke with no words. Only when she nodded her permission did Chandler clear his throat.
"…. We got a call from our fertility specialist yesterday afternoon." He swallowed hard. "The results indicated that it is extremely unlikely that Monica and I will…. ever be able to conceive our own baby…."
Rachel let out a strangled gasp; she even had to stifle a plaintive moan behind where she had drawn both hands to her mouth.
"But why?" Ross demanded. His brain was clearly whirring in his role as a scientist, trying to piece together the puzzle, as if this was some dinosaur fossil that could be constructed in its entirety.
Chandler quietly explained to the others the concept surrounding low sperm motility and an inhospitable environment. "It basically means my boys can't get off their Barcaloungers, and Monica's uterus is prepared to seek-and-destroy the few that do."
Joey had gone to taking one knee, still letting Monica lean against him. "So….. if it was a problem with just one of you, the odds of having a kid would be slim. But the two of you together…. it would be almost impossible?"
Chandler nodded glumly. "Connally's words were that there was a good chance this may never happen for us."
"Good chance and may doesn't mean no chance and won't," Phoebe pointed out firmly.
"Pheebs is right," Ross nodded eagerly and gratefully. "In the absence of absolute language, there's still a chance! Right?"
"Yeah!" Joey leapt to his feet. "So you two aren't suited to have sex for the purpose of making a baby. So what? You clearly are suited for having sex in pursuit of everything else!" He waggled his eyebrows at Chandler; Monica let out a barking, wet laugh. "So Mon doesn't like your boys. It doesn't mean she wouldn't like someone else's boys." He started. "Chandler…." And here he laid a grave hand on Chandler's shoulder. "…. For the sake of the family…. I would be willing to sleep with your wife and give her a baby…"
Chandler leaned back warily, all the more so as he sensed how Joey actually sounded serious. "….. Thank you, Joey… I guess….."
Letting out a watery giggle, Monica suddenly grabbed Joey by the chin and pulled him down to kiss him soundly on the mouth. Chandler frowned at how Joey looked a little too elated and delighted when they broke apart. He gawped at his wife, violently gesticulating.
"Oh, come on!"
Monica just smirked weakly, cocking an eyebrow. "You kissed another woman right after we got married. I think it's about time I returned the favor and found me a new man to make out with."
Chandler stewed. "…. So now we call it even?" Laughing at Chandler's butt-hurt expression, she turned back to Joey, eyes shining. "Oh, honey…. That's so sweet…. And I love you…. But no…."
Joey looked like a wounded puppy. "But there's gotta be some way!" he pleaded.
"What, to get me naked?" Monica quipped.
"No!" Joey smirked and rolled his eyes. "Give you a baby…."
Monica smiled sadly and shook her head. "I don't think even you can fix this, Joe…" she wrapped him in a hug, sighing. "I'm so glad it was you that married Chandler and me…." Joey smiled weakly and hugged her back, rubbing her spine.
Ross was giving Chandler a funny look. Chandler frowned at his brother-in-law.
"Don't look at me like that! You think I don't know that this is my fault?"
"Of course not!" Ross sighed, blushing at being caught in a moment when he thought no one was watching.
"No…." Monica cooed, her face soft and heartsick as she reached for her spouse. "Chandler, this is nobody's fault, least of all yours!"
He just snorted bitterly. "Isn't it, though? The one thing you want more than anything in the world – more than me! – and it isn't in my power to give it to you. I'm a failure as a husband…."
"Chandler! Don't you ever say that again!" Ross slapped the table vehemently, his voice rising to a shout. Chandler jerked, startled. Of all the times he had seen and heard Angry Ross, it had never been in a moment where Ross actually came to his defense. Heck, the last time Ross had let his anger get the better of him, the anger had been directed at him, Chandler.
"You were there for my sister, last night…. Weren't you?" Ross looked as though he was going to deck Chandler if he answered No.
Chandler nodded, his jaw hard.
"He was," Monica attested, chittering, tears flowing down her face anew. "He was…" she beamed at her husband wetly, gratefully. "I really did marry the most wonderful man…" Chandler beamed down at her, sick with love.
Ross nodded in agreement. "Then that's what matters. You honored your vows, even at the worst moment of your life." He started to get emotional. "I mean, Christ, guys, I'm…. I'm so sorry….!"
Monica took her brother's hand, then reached for her husband's with the other. "It's… it's all right, Ross. We're… we're gonna figure this out…." She echoed her Chandler's promise from the night before.
Chandler smiled down at her. "I know."
"Sure. It's not like there aren't other ways we can get her pregnant!" Joey crowed.
"We….?" Chandler frowned, leerily.
"You know what I meant! I still say that this is just a matter of finding a more….. motility-suitable partner! It's…. it's like with an electrical plug, see? You're the prongs, dude, except your prongs don't work, and Mon's uterus is the socket…."
"Are you following any of this?" Chandler gawped at his wife. "Or am I just blacking out?..." Monica lifted a hand to her mouth and giggled.
Joey was already lunging for the door, reaching for his coat and muttering. "I'll go to the library…."
"…. Provided he knows where it is…." Rachel scoffed in a stage-whispered aside, almost affectionately.
Joey continued on as if he hadn't heard her. "Get some books, and do some research…." He ducked out the door.
A beat, and then Chandler was kissing his wife firmly on the lips and lunging for the door himself, after their best friend. "I'd better follow and make sure he doesn't hurt himself. For Joey to do proper research…. First somebody's gonna have to teach him how to read!"