A/N Thank you so much once again for all of your kind reviews! I think I have replied to everybody. Huge thank you to SardinianReader and other guest accounts too, for your continued support.
Anyway, it will come as no great surprise that this (quite long) update contains a lot of angst, tension and drama - you know the drill by now! Only a few more chapters to go for this fic, and I promise things will eventually look brighter for Mondler. But not right now...
"Where the hell have you been?" Monica accosted Chandler furiously when he finally returned home, sheepish, disheveled, and dejected, close to 6:00pm. Her feelings of anger were surpassed only by a torrent of relief and she let out a whimper as threw herself at him, clasping her arms as tightly around his torso as she physically could, large tears soaking into his shirt as she buried her face against his shoulder.
The rush of adrenaline that had allowed Monica to face down Pete and ultimately escape his intimidation had quickly dissipated since arriving back at the apartment. She had bolted from the restaurant, her lungs on fire, as she swiftly navigated the streets. Her heart was in her mouth, terrified that she might hear his menacing voice call out to her, or that she might see his car cruise past; scared witless that he might yet make good on his threat.
As she had approached her home she had hidden in a doorway a short distance from her building, surveying the area for any sign of him, before sprinting for the door, racing up the stairs and pushing past a visibly disturbed Joey, refusing to offer him a single word of explanation for her distress as she barricaded herself in Chandler's bedroom, praying desperately for his return.
"I'm sorry" Chandler murmured softly as he returned her embrace.
"Where did you go? I went to your work and they said you were off sick. I was so worried, Chandler!" she scolded weakly.
"I'm sorry" he repeated, caressing her hair soothingly, before admitting, "I went to see Kathy. I thought I might be able to convince her not to go to Pete's lawyers."
He shook his head mournfully, unable to meet her inquiring eyes, "But she never showed up. I waited around at a bar opposite her building, but I didn't see her. I'm so sorry Monica..I will keep trying. I promise, it will all be OK."
Monica bit down on her lip painfully and pressed her eyelids closed for a moment before looking up at his face and finally garnering the courage to whisper, "I saw him."
"Who?" Chandler almost did not dare ask.
"Pete." she gulped, her voice becoming high-pitched and her chin beginning to wobble.
Chandler took a tremulous intake of breath and moved his hands to her shoulders, creating a little distance between them in order to examine her face, unable to believe the words that were emerging from her lips. "You saw Pete?" he breathed.
She gave a desolate nod "At the restaurant" she confirmed.
Chandler's voice shook with panic, "But why... What did you.. He's not even supposed to go there!"
He swallowed hard as his eyes analyzed hers. The stricken look on her face told him immediately that this encounter had been more than a banal sighting from a distance, and a wave of nausea caused his stomach to churn with dread. "Monica, please tell me he didn't hurt you... " he begged.
She shook her head, "No." she reassured him.
"He wanted to though." she added quietly, her mournful eyes looking up at him through wet lashes, "I was so scared, Chandler."
She finally let out the cry of anguish she had been suppressing since she had fled from the restaurant.
Chandler's face went pale as he almost crushed her against his chest, his desire to protect her running wildly out of control, and those all too familiar claws of self-loathing ripping at his soul as he realized that he had failed, once again, to shield her from pain. He swallowed down the thousands of questions he could sense she currently had no capacity for, before eventually asking her gently, "Have you told the police yet? He's not allowed to go to the restaurant Monica, and he's not allowed to approach you. He's broken his bail conditions."
"Not yet." she whispered back, "I will." She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him urgently, "I just... I needed to see you first".
She moved towards the sofa, dragging him down next to her and nestling herself insistently into the comfort of his arms. Chandler complied and held her securely, remaining as resolutely still and silent as he could sense she needed him to be.
Six months of pain and anxiety radiated from her body as she melted against him, finally allowing herself to sob uncontrollably and without inhibition.
"Monica!" Rachel's voice sounded strange and shrill as she hammered desperately on the door of Chandler's bedroom, where Chandler and Monica had ensconced themselves for the night.
It was now close to 10:00pm. Monica had finally cried herself to sleep in Chandler's arms almost 3 hours ago. Relieved to see her rest after the traumatic events of the day, Chandler had carried her gently to his bed, curling up beside her, the warmth of her body and her rhythmic breathing soon lulling his own weary mind into synchronous slumber.
Rachel's banging and shouting caused Monica to wake with a start, she gripped Chandler's arm tightly, a sharp gasp of fear catching in her throat as her disorientated mind struggled to understand what was happening. A similarly startled Chandler cursed groggily under his breath and pulled himself into a seated position, running a pacifying hand over Monica's head as he witnessed her obvious fright.
"What the hell's going on?" he yelled back, as he moved towards the door to investigate what on earth Rachel was up to.
He opened the door, a look of intense irritation on his face "Look Rach, it's been a really long day, Monica's trying to sleep."
"Monica, I really need to speak with you. Now! " Rachel looked straight past Chandler as if he were invisible, completely ignoring his plea. Her troubled eyes desperately sought out her roommate.
Monica had also now risen from the bed and approached the door, sliding her arm around Chandler's waist and leaning into him, her energy-depleted body seeking support from his. She and Chandler became simultaneously aware that Ross had also entered the apartment and was standing a few paces behind Rachel, his grave eyes carefully averted from his sister and his oldest friend, clearly still uncomfortable with the idea of seeing the pair emerge from Chandler's bedroom together.
Monica shook her head sleepily, "Rachel, please," she begged wearily, already feeling a little tearful at the idea of any further confrontation, "I'm really not in the mood for any more arguments. It's been a long day, I'm completely exhausted-"
"Monica." Rachel paused her firmly, "Lisa called, from the restaurant."
This unexpected statement roused Monica into an immediately more wakeful state, and fear began to grip at her stomach as she started to discern the extent of her friend's disquietude.
"I don't really know how to tell you this..." Rachel continued, wringing her hands anxiously "... It's Pete... He's dead."
To Monica it seemed that the world ceased to turn for a moment, the blood drained from her face and her vision became distorted. Her eyes glazed over in disbelief as she struggled to process Rachel's words. She wondered at first if she might actually still be asleep and this was just another nightmare to add to her collection; next she considered that perhaps her sleep-befuddled mind had somehow managed to misinterpret Rachel's words. She swallowed hard and took a deep breath before reacting.
"What?" she managed to croak.
She felt Chandler's body shift beside her as he attempted to steady himself against the door frame.
Rachel nodded, "Ignacio found him at the bottom of the stairs in the office when they went in to open up the restaurant.
"No." Monica shook her head as she turned towards Chandler, meeting his ashen face, "No. That's impossible. He was fine when I left! I would have heard him fall!"
Chandler was completely mute as he wrapped a stabilizing arm around her shoulder.
It was Rachel's turn to look blindsided as she considered the implication of her friend's words.
"You were there?" Rachel asked in a low voice, "You saw him? Today?"
"I went to the restaurant, and he showed up." Monica confirmed, registering the looks of horror being exchanged between Rachel and her brother.
"Do the police know? That you went there today? That you saw him? " Rachel whispered, running a trembling hand through her hair.
Monica glanced up at Chandler dolefully, before replying "Not yet. I was going to tell them, but I was so upset when I got back.. Pete and I argued.. and he threatened me.. I was really shaken up. I just needed a while to process it all before I dealt with the police. And then I guess we fell asleep.. -"
"You argued with him and he threatened you? " Ross hissed, "Oh my God!"
He lifted his agitated hands to his head and began to pace the room, before turning to Chandler and snapping angrily, "And where the hell were you when all of this was going on?"
"Chandler wasn't there." Monica confirmed warily, noting the guilt on her boyfriend's face. She knew only too well that Chandler's mental state was almost as close to breaking point as her own, and that he would take very little convincing that his earlier disappearance had somehow contributed to this latest hellish turn of events.
"Mon, honey, you need to call the police right now. " Rachel told her seriously, her eyes gleaming with tears.
"Do you really think that's a good idea? Now? " Ross interjected frantically, before turning back towards his sister, "Did anyone see you there?"
Monica searched the depths of her brother's frenzied, dark eyes, taking a moment to study his building fear, and she felt her throat constrict and her mouth go dry. "Oh my God. You actually think I had something to do with this... " she breathed, clutching at Chandler's arm to prevent her knees from buckling, before managing to stumble towards the sofa, collapsing onto it numbly.
"It doesn't matter what I think! It matters what the police think! And you were there. You were fighting with him, and now he's dead, Monica!"
"Ross!" Chandler warned, as he knelt beside the sofa, taking Monica's limp hand in his own, staring worriedly into her pale, blank face.
"Did anybody see you there?" Ross demanded again.
"No. But they will know I was there. There are security cameras on the door." Monica told him quietly, "I haven't got anything to hide Ross! Pete was very much alive when I left. He must have fallen!"
"You should call them right now." Rachel repeated soberly, "Before they review the security camera footage. You should have called them the minute you got out of there Monica, this is going to look really bad."
Monica's eyes shot towards her friend, "Well sure, with the benefit of hindsight! I didn't know he was going to be found dead, did I?" she cried, devastated to see something akin to doubt flash in Rachel's eyes before she looked away in distress.
Monica leaned back against the sofa, the room was beginning to spin and the air was suddenly thin. Her lungs felt like they were under extreme external pressure, as if she were existing in a vacuum, and she could feel her breathing become more rapid and labored as her body began to respond to this perceived lack of oxygen. Her heart was thumping violently and her eardrums matched every pulsation.
She looked desperately towards Chandler and gulped breathlessly, "They're going to think I pushed him down those stairs, aren't they!"
Chandler shook his head ferociously. "No" he lifted a shaky hand to brush her hair behind her ear, "We'll call them now, and you can tell them what happened. They will know he fell."
"If he threatened you, it's self-defense" Ross concluded, running a hand of perusal over his face as he continued to pace.
Monica's head spun around to look at him, aghast, "I didn't push him Ross!"
Ross paused guiltily, unable to meet her gaze.
Monica looked back towards Chandler in desperation "I didn't!" she insisted.
"I know" Chandler placated in a low voice, squeezing her hand tightly, "I know you didn't. I'm gonna get the phone. And we'll call them and explain what happened. It's going to be OK."
Ross scoffed loudly and cast a scathing look in Chandler's direction.
"Can you please leave now" Monica whispered shakily, her wounded eyes flitting between her brother and Rachel, her breath beginning to catch and rasp in her throat again as her panic reached another crescendo, "I need you to leave. "
Rachel gave a woeful nod of acquiescence and encouraged Ross towards the door. "Call if you need us." she muttered gruffly at Chandler, who was standing by the phone as she passed him. Ross shot a final glance of dismay towards his sister before leaving without uttering a word.
Chandler returned to Monica's side, phone in hand. He squeezed himself onto the sofa beside her, wrapping his arms around her and drawing her close. "It'll be OK" he assured her, as he planted a kiss on top of her head, but she could hear the wobble of uncertainty in his voice.
"If I can't convince Rachel... And if I can't convince my own brother.. how the hell am I supposed to convince the police, Chandler?" Monica murmured dejectedly as he handed her the phone.
Monica leaped out of her skin when the knock came from the police the following morning, despite having been mentally preparing for it all night long.
After making the call and providing a brief explanation of her visit to Javu to a colleague of Detective Rossi, she and Chandler had retired to his bedroom for a fretful night of attempted sleep.
The moon was unusually bright, the night was humid and Chandler's room had a propensity to stuffiness, which, when added to the thoughts of Pete and the police whirring through both of their minds, meant that the pair's attempt at rest had been utterly futile. They had thrashed uncomfortably in a tangle of limbs and sheets, their bodies slick with sweat. Despite the intolerable heat, Monica had clung to Chandler like a limpet, desperate as she was for comfort; and equally desperate to console her, Chandler had been unwilling to peel her away. They had both completely given up on the idea of sleep by around 5:30am and had been slumped next to one another on the sofa, sipping coffee morosely ever since, knowing that an officer would be arriving to speak to Monica at any time.
Chandler kissed her forehead gently when the knock finally came.
"It'll be fine" he assured her, as he headed towards the door. Monica's mournful, sapphire eyes, puffy and bloodshot from a lack of sleep, stared back at him, entirely unconvinced.
The two officers at the door gave a cursory flash of their badges in Chandler's direction as they entered.
"I'm Detective Connor, and this is Officer White", the older and stouter of the two men introduced them both without smiling, "Here to speak with a Ms. Monica Geller."
"I'm Chandler Bing. A friend of Monica's. Come on in." Chandler greeted cordially "Can I get you a coffee?"
His offer was dismissed brusquely by Detective Connor, as his intense dark eyes landed on Monica with laser sharp focus.
"Hello Ms Geller, I'm leading the investigation into the death of Pete Becker. I spoke with Detective Rossi this morning who bought me up to speed on the phone call you made to us last night, and also about the allegations you made against Mr Becker earlier this year"
"I didn't actually get to speak with Detective Rossi when I called. Do I need to call her? About the trial?..." Monica stammered nervously.
Connor arched an eyebrow at his colleague and replied sardonically, "Trial? It's pretty hard to convict a dead guy. Posthumous trials are usually reserved for Popes and warlords. Not software tycoons..."
Monica looked at her feet in embarrassment, "OK. I guess I just can't believe it's over." Her eyes filled with tears as she looked towards Chandler, "I can't believe he'll never face justice. He just gets away with it.. "
"I'm not sure I'd call this getting away with it." the Detective remarked unsympathetically.
Chandler scowled and made his way protectively to Monica's side. Detective Connor's eyes studied him with interest momentarily, before moving his gaze back to Monica.
"So, I hear you paid Mr Becker a visit yesterday?"
"No" Monica shook her head and met his eyes determinedly, "I visited my restaurant yesterday. Pete followed me in there. He wasn't supposed to enter the restaurant because his bail conditions should have prevented him from doing so. I never would have gone there if I had thought there was even the smallest chance I would see him."
"You co-owned the restaurant With Mr Becker, is that right? What was the reason for your visit yesterday?"
Monica saw little point in raking over her motive for visiting Javu now, "I just went to check in. As you said, I co-own the place. I have every right to be there."
Connor nodded "But this was your first visit, wasn't it? Since you accused Mr Becker of attacking you?"
Monica's eyes narrowed a little, not appreciating his turn of phrase, "It was my first visit there since he attacked me." she corrected him assertively.
"So you arrive there to "check in", and he followed you. Can you talk me through what happened after he arrived?"
"Well, I was upstairs in the office, at the computer. I hadn't been there long, when he came up the stairs. He tried to intimidate me, he taunted me about the attack and about the trial, he told me I deserved what he did to me, and when I responded he threatened me with "round two". I was terrified, obviously, and I ran away. "
Monica spoke calmly and methodically, but Chandler could read the pain in her eyes as she relived the encounter and finally hearing a few details of what Pete had put her through yesterday tore at his heart. He instinctively reached to squeeze her thigh in a gesture of comfort.
Connor's beady eyes observed him before turning once more towards Monica, arching a bushy eyebrow as he spoke, "So all this happened on the office mezzanine? You and Mr Becker were at the top of the stairs he eventually fell down?"
Monica swallowed hard and nodded her agreement, a frown tugging at her brow as she could not help but acknowledge to herself just how incriminating this all sounded.
"And this altercation with Mr Becker. Was it entirely verbal? Or was there any physical contact?"
Monica gulped again and looked down at her hands, which fidgeted anxiously on her lap. "He tried to attack me. He ran at me, but I fought him off. "
She cringed as Chandler's head shot round to look at her in astonishment at this fresh information, and the two police officers exchanged a loaded glance.
"He tried to grab me," she elaborated, "but I managed to knee him in the groin, and then I just ran past him and left"
"And, in your opinion, could this knee to the groin have possibly contributed to Mr Becker's fall?" Detective Connor pressed, as Officer White, scribbled away furiously in his notebook.
"Absolutely not. He was nowhere near the stairs at that point. And he was very much alive when I left" Monica told them with certainty.
"And what time did you leave?"
"I'm honestly not sure." Monica admitted "It was around 4:00pm when I arrived, but coming face to face with him like that was upsetting, and it all felt like a bit of a blur. There are security cameras on the main door though, so it should be easy to find out when I left. And if anybody else came in."
"Except the cameras had been switched off" Connor told her, his shrewd eyes gleaming as he awaited her response to this information with intrigue.
"We don't know by whom. Yet. But we'll find out soon enough. The tech wizards are on it." he informed her.
She was unsure of whether he intended to sound as menacing as he did, or if it was just his nature.
"Well I didn't switch them off!" she cried, detecting his accusatory tone "Why would I switch them off and then call you to tell you I was there?"
Detective Connor ignored her protestation and continued neutrally, "When you say it was all a "bit of a blur"... Does that mean you could be confused about what happened between you and Mr Becker? "
"No!" Monica denied "Only the time was a blur. Believe me, I can remember every last word of that conversation; every sneer and every threat, in great detail. In fact, I spent all of last night reliving it over and over. " She informed him grimly.
"What were you wearing during this altercation, Ms Geller? It would be really helpful if we could take a look at that.."
"Woah, hang on!" Chandler protested, "Is she being accused of something here? Because this is starting to feel like an interrogation, and I might not be an expert in these matters but I certainly haven't seen a search warrant or heard anybody read any rights. Surely she has a right to a lawyer if you're going to grill her like this... "
Detective Connor regarded him icily, his lips curled. "At this point we're just trying to gather information, whilst we ascertain if a crime has even been committed Mr Bing. So nobody is under arrest. Not yet. I'm merely asking if Ms Geller would be so kind as to assist us with our inquiries, since it seems like she might have been the last person to see Mr Becker alive. She is under no obligation to help us, of course. Not at this point."
"Chandler, it's fine!" Monica chided through clenched teeth, her eyes large and serious, "I don't have anything to hide. I'll get the clothes I was wearing. You're welcome to take them with you, if it helps your investigation."
Chandler regarded her anxiously. You did not have to be a detective to observe the fear in her eyes or the quiver in her voice. She walked stiffly towards Chandler's bedroom to retrieve her garments, with Officer White in pursuit.
Chandler shifted uncomfortably as he felt Detective Connor's scrutiny weigh heavily upon him, but he spoke not a word until Monica and his colleague returned.
"Now I'm a little confused.." he mused "I was lead to believe that your permanent address was across the hallway at no. 20 now, Ms Geller, but you asked us to meet you here... your clothes are kept here... do I need to amend my records?"
Monica's mouth was feeling drier by the second and she attempted to moisten her lips before responding curtly, "No. My apartment is across the hall. This is Chandler's apartment."
The detective nodded slowly. "And that is Mr Bing's bedroom?" he gestured towards the door from which Monica had emerged with her clothes.
"Yes" Monica glanced towards Chandler.
Detective Connor flipped through his notebook in such a way that appeared to be solely for dramatic effect, "And Mr Bing here is the "friend" that Mr Becker has been accusing you of having an affair with... Is that right? An affair that you both denied? I mean, I have to say... you do seem very... close."
Monica ran a trembling hand across her face, "We weren't having an affair, Pete lied about that, like he lied about everything else. But yes. Chandler and I recently became closer, and we are in a relationship now."
He nodded and shared another dark look with Officer White "It's funny... Detective Rossi never mentioned that..."
"Are we done here?" Chandler interrupted forcefully.
Connor turned to him with what was ostensibly a smile. "Yes I think we are. For now."
He and Officer White stood up and made for the door.
"Oh Mr Bing...I forgot to ask about your movements yesterday" Detective Connor asked mildly.
"Oh, you know, I was here, there and everywhere" Chandler responded with an obtuse scowl.
Connor scoffed "And does either "there" or "everywhere" include your girlfriend's restaurant?"
"No. I was in a bar in the East Village for most of the day" he admitted shame-faced as the Detective regarded him coolly.
"We'll be in touch Ms Geller. Thank you for your co-operation." Connor told her as he entered the hallway.
Monica managed the smallest of nods as she choked back the emotional lump that had formed in her throat.
She and Chandler stood rooted numbly to the spot, completely silent for some time. The air was thick with Monica's unbearable anguish and Chandler could hardly brave a look at her. When he finally turned to face her and saw her chest heaving as she struggled to control her breath, her tear-filled eyes staring blankly ahead, he leapt immediately towards her and enveloped her in his arms.
""Here, there and everywhere"? Did you have to be such a wise-ass?" she reprimanded him, as she pressed her face into his shoulder.
"Sorry. But the guy was a jerk." Chandler replied through gritted teeth, "If he comes back, do not speak to him without your lawyer, Monica."
Monica pulled away from him and looked woefully into his face, "Oh he'll be back. He'll be back with a warrant."
"No, Mon." Chandler rejected, "Pete fell. They'll work that out."
"Didn't you hear that detective, Chandler? Didn't you see the look on his face? They're going to pin this on me. This is it. This is how Pete finally succeeds in destroying me. He's still fucking with me even though he's dead!" she took a deep breath and pressed her fingers to her temples as she struggled to keep her breathing under control.
"I can't go to jail, Chandler," she whispered "I don't think I could survive that."
"You won't!" he cried, hugging her closer.
"God, I'm so scared" she whimpered.
"You're not going to jail, Monica" he assured her firmly, pulling her close in order to offer comfort, but mainly to avoid having to look into her tortured eyes.
Chandler had worked out pretty early in their relationship the calming effect that his touch had on Monica, and as they lay on his bed together now, it brought him satisfaction to see that her eyes had drifted closed as he brushed his fingers delicately across her porcelain skin. He knew she was not fully asleep, her brow still furrowed anxiously, even at rest, but Chandler was relieved to hear that her breathing had slowed back down to an even rate from the painful sobs of terror that had torn at his heart after Detective Connor's visit.
He studied the symmetrical perfection of her face reverently, tracing his index finger along the arch of her brow, across her sculpted cheekbone, over the dip of her cupid's bow. A swell of devotion overwhelmed him but was quelled immediately as an intrusive vision of that exquisite face being escorted towards a prison cell flickered through his mind. His heart began to race and he tensed every muscle in his body in order to prevent himself from squeezing her too tight.
Chandler was intelligent enough to know that any depiction of a women's jail he might have seen on TV would be a far cry from the brutal reality of being imprisoned alongside some of the most damaged and disturbed members of society. Prison was a place that would push a person to extraordinary and despicable lengths in order to survive; and whilst Monica might have a physical strength that belied her diminutive frame; and a decidedly feisty streak; there was no way this would keep her safe from a pack of incarcerated women who had been rendered cynical, dangerous and emotionally bereft by a system that had routinely failed them; women who had been continually hardened and embittered by a cruel world; a world unrecognizable to the likes of the Gellers or the Bings.
Prison would have been an unthinkable prospect for her even when she was firing on all cylinders. And as he looked sadly down at her now, after everything the last year had thrown at her, she was far from at her peak: 6 months of barely eating or leaving her apartment had ravaged her already slender body, her once toned limbs were now stick thin and lacked muscle definition, every rib and vertebrae was now clearly visible through her skin. After her devastating experience at the hands of Pete Becker, Monica was physically and mentally spent.
Chandler imagined the looks on the faces of the other inmates, and the depraved thoughts in their heads, when presented with this beautiful, fragile, middle-class Long Island girl, and it made bile rise in his throat. Detective Connor and his cronies might as well throw her into a pit of lions.
This time he could not prevent his arms from tightening desperately around her and she gave a soft moan as she shifted against him.
He forced himself to release his grip on her just a little and placed a long and tender kiss on top of her head. There was now way he was letting them send her to jail. No way in hell.
A/N So long Pete! Did he fall or was he pushed?
I thought long and hard about getting rid of him this way, and I hope it's not too much of a cop out. There was no way I could write an unsuccessful trial for Monica, but I felt at this point, a successful one would be pretty out of reach, given all that has happened. I do feel bad that she has been robbed of the chance to face him in court, (which is why I made sure she got to tear a few strips off of him, and knee him in the balls, in the chapter before this one!) and her feelings about the trial will definitely be revisited in the final few chapters. Ultimately, I just wanted a situation where Pete was completely out of the picture, and Monica can eventually rest easy knowing will never have to clap eyes on him again.
Anyway, we're nearly there now! Things will get better, I promise. Although there are few more twists and turns to go yet, so bear with me!
Sorry if this is all a bit draining - if I ever write another fic it is definitely going to be a lot cuter and fluffier than this!
Thank you so much for reading!