Chapter 37 - Do not go gentle, Part VI

Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

"Oh, Meems!" Belle pulled her friend into a warm embrace. "I knew that you'd get in. I just knew it!"

Behind them on Mimi's walkway, Shawn and Jason grinned to each other, smirking at this sentimental display. Chicks.

Mimi smiled. What would she ever do without Belle and her never-ending faith in her. Belle had practically wept on the phone, when Mimi called to share the news. Even now with prior knowledge, Belle was in pure jubilation for her best friend. "Thanks, Belle. To think, me, you, and Shawn may all be going to class together next semester!"

"That'd be so great, Mimi," chirped a radiant Belle, "But you never know… NYU's acceptance letter is probably on its way."

"Yeah," added Shawn, "That's your first choice, right?"

"I guess it is," Mimi admitted, "But it feels like a weight's been lifted off my shoulders, you know? No matter what the other schools say now, I'll be going to college in the fall."

"Totally relate," grinned Shawn and went in for his congratulatory hug. "No matter what, it's gonna be awesome."

"Alright, come on, guys," said Mimi, who was practically floating, "Let's get going."

So, the girls arm-in-arm led the way to Chloe's house. The sun was out, accompanied by wispy white clouds in the sky. The flowers were in full bloom and the birds in blissful song. Today was a beautiful day. And they wanted to share it with their friend, who personified the endless possibilities that lay in each of them. To survive and achieve, no matter the odds.

Chloe would know that her friends would always be there for her. They'd make sure of it. Perhaps, she'd be up to hanging out in the park. They'd call and invite Philip, when they got to the Wesleys. The whole gang together, like always.

"So, Meems," began Belle, while absently scooping up a buttercup from between the sidewalk cracks, "Are you ready for your big performance onstage?"

"I'm starting on the last act tonight and hopefully I'll have some clue by next week," replied Mimi.

"You've got nothing to worry about. You were so great with Brian, you know, t-that day," managed Belle finally. Someday, they would be able to refer to that day without a chill prickling down the spine.

"Oh, that," smiled her friend, "That was pretty cool, wasn't it? I've gotta say, actually understanding what the heck I'm saying makes a huge difference." Quite easily then, she grinned up at Jason. "If there's ever a question about Shakespeare, you'd definitely be one of my lifelines."

Jason gave off a shrug but couldn't quite hide the slight flush creeping up his neck.

"Yeah, Jase. What's up with that?" laughed Shawn jovially, "All that time I'm knocking my brains out trying to get through English Lit., you knew all the answers. I mean, you could've helped your old buddy Shawn out. Like with that Emily Dickinson stuff. Hold up," he said, raising a hand, "What'd you get on that test, anyhow?"

Jason gave another signature shrug and walked on, ignoring the girls' inquisitive looks.

"Aw, man!" complained Shawn, "Damn, I can't believe it!" Throwing up his hands, he trailed after his friend. "You could've given me just a hint about what that lunatic lady," to which feminist Belle huffed in slight offense, "Was trying to say, you know. Instead, I try convincing Ms. Luengo that the bird was Dickinson and the worm was her ex."

Jason burst into laughter. "No shit?"

Shawn threw an arm on his buddy's shoulder. "Dude, you gotta help me."

Amused, Jason shook his head and settled into a relaxed stride. "Buddy, sometimes a rose is just a rose…"

Intriguing, thought Belle, before she turned to wiggle her eyebrows at Mimi, who only rolled her eyes and kept her thoughts to herself. However tingly and tempting they may be…

The teens were still chatting comfortably away, when they stepped onto the Wesley porch. Mimi rang the doorbell and jumped back, when seconds later, the door swung open.

"Chloe?" cried Mrs. Wesley in a panic.

Eyes widening in surprise and confusion, the teens looked at one another with apprehension. Then, turned back to the frantic-eyed mother.

"Mrs. Wesley? W-What's going on?" asked Belle, "Is Chloe alright?"

"Hey, guys!"

Everyone turned to see freshly showered Philip trotting up the porch steps behind them.

He offered a somewhat tired smile to his friends, "What's up?"

Breaking through irrelevant teenagers, Nancy lunged across and grabbed him by the collar. "Where's Chloe?" she screamed, "What have you done with her?"

Shocked beyond coherency, Philip's mouth dropped open. "W-What?"

"My baby," cried Nancy, frenetically shaking him, "Chloe's gone."

Dizzy from the assault, Philip gripped her arms in disbelief. "G-Gone? Chloe's gone?" His voice rose in mirroring hysteria. "What do you mean Chloe's gone?!"

Car tires screeched to a halt behind them, followed by, "Nancy!" Dr. Wesley ran down the walkway, up to the porch to separate the two, who looked as though they were about to tear each other apart. "Honey," he began, as calmly as he could, and turned his wife to face him, "It's going to be ok."

"Oh, Craig," sobbed Nancy, shattering now with him to hold her, "He's got to tell me where my baby is, Craig. He has to tell me."

"It's going to be ok, honey. It's going to be ok," soothed Craig, who gradually turned to Philip. The others may have as well not existed. "Do you know where Chloe is?"

"N-No," sputtered the boy, "The last time I saw her… she was here… in her room…" He grasped his chilled scalp in growing panic. "She was sleeping." With her little puppy to watch over her.

Mrs. Wesley cried and cried. "Oh God, she's run away."

"No!" croaked Philip, startling everyone, "She wouldn't do that." To us. To me.

With tears streaming, Belle turned to the shelter of Shawn's arms. "Poor Chloe…"

Jason set his hands on Mimi's shoulders, offering his comfort as well.

Mimi's eyes blinked. This wasn't happening. This just couldn't be happening. "Wait," she said, forcing her brain to contemplate the other possibilities. A good journalist always wanted the whole story, which meant covering all the possibilities. "Maybe… maybe she went to see us. To talk to one of us."

"Yeah," added Jason, who squeezed her shoulders in support, "We should call home and find out, if she's been by, looking for us."

Craig nodded, "Good thinking. But we have to keep our phone line clear, just in case she calls…"

Instantly, Philip, Shawn, and Belle fumbled for their cell phones.

Philip turned away to pace, unable to stand still. "Henderson, yeah look, did Chloe come by the house today?" He stilled. And closed his eyes. "W-We don't know where she is… yeah, thanks."

"Hey, Brady, have you seen Chloe at all today?" Belle's shoulders slumped. "Her family-we're all looking for her… No, Philip's here with us… Yeah, if she does… Thanks, Brady." She sighed, before Mimi took the phone from her.

"Hi, Mom. I'm looking for my friend Chloe. Did she call or drop by today?" Mimi hugged herself. "Ok… Yeah… Thanks."

"Mom?" said Shawn, "Yeah, I'm fine. Listen, I'm looking for my friend Chloe. Did she drop by today, you know, looking for me?" He hung his head. "Yeah, if she does, could you… thanks…" He clicked off the phone and handed it to Jason.

Jason looked at the phone skeptically. He doubted that she would go to his house. She'd never even been to his house. However, he sighed and dialed. "Hey, sis. It's Jason. Hey, do you know, if this girl named Chloe came over, looking for me? Blue eyes, kinda tall, a lot of hair? Ok, do me favor, could ya? If this girl comes by, tell her to call her house right away. Thanks, Katie. See ya later, ok?"

Defeated, the group looked up at each other and shook their heads. Where could she be?

Dr. Wesley tightened his arms around his wailing wife.

Oh, Chloe, where are you? her friends inwardly cried. Shawn hugged his girlfriend, while Mimi gave in and accepted Jason's reassuring hold.

Philip paced back and forth on the porch, his anxious hands mussing his hair. She couldn't have run away. She couldn't have. He was reaching her. He'd been sure of it. He'd held her throughout the night. She'd spoken to him. She'd laughed and kissed him. She couldn't have run away and left him. He refused to believe it.

Think, Kiriakis, think. Where would she go? She wasn't at the Kiriakis mansion or anyone else's house. Everything was in upheaval. And everyone that loved her was here. Where the hell would she go?

When the answer struck him, his knees nearly gave. "Of course!" he gasped.

Everyone jolted.

"What, Philip?" said a pale Belle, "What?"

"Do you know where Chloe is?" asked Dr. Wesley.

"W-Where is she?" blubbered Mrs. Wesley.

"I-I have an idea of where she is-" Before Mrs. Wesley pounced forward to crush the answer out of him, he held up his hands for patience and explained, "Look, I'll go check, ok? It's her special place." Our special place. "She goes there to think, but," he interjected, when Dr. Wesley tried to interrupt, "I don't think all of us going is a good idea. It might freak her out."

"You're right, Phil," agreed Shawn, who nodded in understanding now to where Philip was referring. Chloe's special place, where she once found Shawn, when he'd been so lost.

"If-Once I find her, I'll call, ok?"

They watched his retreating back, as Philip sprinted off.

A bell tolled in the distance, as Chloe stared across the murky water. But the surface looked so alive and luminous, when it reflected the rays of the high noon sun. She caught sight of a pair of seagulls squawking over a meal, while perched atop a floating buoy.

She took in a breath of that salty sea air and sighed. She could always count on the pier to calm her. Yet still lay before her, life's contradictions through the water's simplicity.

This morning, when she'd awakened, it'd been like waking from a long restless sleep. When the heart thumped oddly in her chest. When the eyes were weary yet starkly awake. Confused, she'd looked about her surroundings and hadn't quite registered, when or where she was. She'd only known and felt that same awful feeling, which had haunted all her life. That feeling before she'd found her friends, family, and Philip. Before she'd found her home.

Forcing her eyes closed, she'd wanted to curl into a ball then and cry. What if it had all been a dream? What if there was no Belle or Shawn? No Craig or Nancy, Mimi, or Jason, even? What if there was no Philip?

What if the whole time she'd conjured up those wonderful characters out of a lifetime of loneliness and desperate need to be cared for? Loved?

Oh, how meaningless life would have been then. To experience such a vivid glimmer of real happiness and then to have it vanish like a puff of unconscious smoke. Frightened, she had indeed curled into a ball, pulling her knees into her chest, and squeezed her eyes tight, willing herself to find that blissful dream again.

Then, she'd felt a small, rough, and warmly damp thing glide over and over her nose. Her eyes had fluttered open to see an adorable puppy face, split into a goofy, tongue-lolling grin. Her puppy had barked a morning greeting and hopped in circles, heralding little canine breakfast time.

Taking a careful breath, Chloe'd felt reality finally seep in. Then, Merlin, blessed with an ecstatically short attention span, had begun sniffing the tousled pillow beside her. Her heart had leapt, as she reached across to pull the pillow against her and took in that familiar fresh-scented cologne. And on the edge of the pillowcase, she'd tearfully noticed short, fine strands of blond-streaked hair.

She'd hugged the pillow tighter in relief. He was real. It was all real. Fairy tales really did come true.

"Not everyone gets a fairy tale."

Her body had stiffened then trembled, as the memories flooded back like a tidal wave. "Oh God, Andy," she'd cried, rocking herself in grief, "How could you?"

"No matter what I wear or how I change myself, I'll always be the ugly duckling…the dork, the nerd, the fucking fag. I just can't take it anymore."

She'd realized then that she couldn't stay in that room any longer. She'd stumbled out of bed and pulled on the first things she saw from her closet and quickly snuck out of the house. At first, she hadn't really known where she was headed. Only that her riotous emotions would surely suffocate her, if she didn't escape and find a way to purge the ghosts from her soul.

At last, she'd found herself at the pier, her place of solitude, introspection, and catharsis. Where she could retreat and rebuild. So now, she stared into those murky depths and repeated, "Andy, how could you?" How could you let them win?

The tears ran freely now, grieving for the boy with haunted brown eyes and scuffed-up high-tops. She remembered that frightening day in the hallway, when they were surrounded by armed men in black uniform. She'd finally gotten through to them that Andy wasn't a threat. He was just scared and confused. The team leader agreed to lower weapons, if the boy surrendered his. So, she turned and asked Andy to hand over the gun. It was over, she'd assured him, and everything be alright. But he'd seemed in a daze, eyes wide while staring into the group of darkly clad policemen. Then, she'd never forget those eyes - his eyes - when he turned to look at her. Those sunken brown eyes had unimaginably dulled, such that they ceased to reflect light. And Chloe could no longer see him in those eyes.

"Not everyone gets a fairy tale."

She'd never forget his voice. So impossibly sad and devoid of hope.

Then, trapped in some horrifying silent vacuum of time, moments passing in jerky grainy stills, blurred yet crisp, slow yet fast, he'd raised the gun to his head and squeezed the trigger. She couldn't even scream, as the blood flew at her in a rush and his body dropped with a sickening thud to the ground. From that moment, she disappeared into herself, so horrified was she. Now, she remembered it all and cried.

Andrew, you traitor, she thought with a sense of bitterness and an ocean of grief. You coward. You let them win. You gave up.

How often had she herself stood at this very spot, gazing into the darkness. And how easy it would've been to give in, to surrender to the anguish, to the hopelessness. More than once, when life seemed an unpitying nuclear assault, she'd thought about it. Perhaps with a razor. Or a bottle from the medicine cabinet. Or she could simply step off this pier and let herself sink. Into the abyss that seemed to want her so badly.

But each time her mind wandered toward that possibility, something inside her screamed, no. A part of her - the staunch defier, warrior, and survivor - refused to let the demons have the satisfaction, the last laugh. Damn them all. If she'd be slain, they'd have to take her down fighting. Then, another part of her - the child, who still believed - reminded her of her dreams. How about your music? How would you ever sing at the Met? How about your mother? How would you ever find her and know, if she ever loved you? If she could love you? How about love? To feel the embrace of someone who made you feel warm, safe, and whole? Who lived only to love you?

If she'd given up then, she would've never even had the chance to know these amazing things. She would've never come to Salem to meet Nancy and Craig and be befriended by Belle and Shawn. And she would've never met Philip and fallen in love. If she'd given into the demons, she would've never known the happiness that she knew now. And the horizon presented only more opportunities for new happiness.

"Annie and I grew up together… and her family would take care of me…"

Chloe thought about her own friends and parents. What would happen to them, if Chloe caved into the fears and bouts of hopelessness? How saddened, hurt, and betrayed they would feel, after they'd loved her so much. And Philip. God, what would happen to Philip?

The same thing that was probably happening to Annie now.

Oh, Andy, she thought again. How could you? How could you do this and break so many hearts?

"I'm not like you."

She cried and cried, wondering if it would ever end. She hiccupped upon hearing steps behind her. Oh thank God, she thought. Philip.

She turned, prepared to run into those welcoming arms. And stopped in her tracks.

"Hello, Signorina."

Philip finally reached the landing to the pier. His athletic body quickly recovered to baseline by the time he stepped onto the old wooden upper tier. "Please, God," he murmured, "Let her be here."

Stepping closer to the edge to look down to the lower level, his eyes bulged.

"Hello, Signorina," he heard Brady say, as Brady carefully approached a clearly shaken Chloe.

The protective growl caught in Philip's throat, when she spoke.

"W-What are you doing here?" she croaked, her voice scratchy from disuse.

Philip's jaw dropped open. She was talking to him. To him of all people.

"Belle called me," replied Brady, "Told me nobody knew where you were. So, I figured I'd check here."

And in his chest, Philip's heart sunk. Brady apparently knew Chloe as well as he did. At an unexpected and confused loss, Philip could only back a step away and listen.

"Belle's l-looking for me?" asked Chloe, drawing her arms around herself. She felt like she was in limbo, somewhere between the past and the present. Peace. All she wanted was peace.

"And the rest of Salem, it seems," said Brady, who decided that he'd gotten close enough. She looked like she was ready to bolt. "There're some people, who're mighty anxious to find you."

Her teeth clattered, before she turned and peered back out across the water.

Not entirely sure how to go about this, Brady ran his hands through his hair. "Come on, Chloe. I'll drive you home."

She continued to stare at the horizon.

Brady sighed. Maybe he should wait her out. So, he took the time to get a good look at her. Her face was without makeup and her hair barely brushed. She wore an oversized Salem High Panthers sweatshirt, jeans, and sneakers. Not exactly bombshell Chloe's finest hour, but at least she was safe. He waited another five minutes, before he spoke again.

"It's not your fault, you know," he said, getting straight to the core, "The kid shooting himself wasn't your fault."

Chloe's brows creased, as her eyes began to burn again.

"How would you know? You're the duckling that turned into a swan… So, everyone loves you now, while the rest of us…"

I'm so sorry, Andy, whimpered Chloe. I'm sorry, I couldn't help you.

And because she couldn't help him, he'd died.

"Hey," Brady said softly, noticing the new tears, and reached for her.

She retreated two steps.

"Look," said Brady as gently as he could, "I know you tried to help him. Hell, I know you saved my sister's life, along with everyone else's. You did everything you could. You have got to believe that. But the guy was already gone, Chloe, before he even got to school."

Her breath hitched out a sob, as her hands covered her face in grief.

"Hey, hey," Brady gathered her up in his arms, "You did everything you could, alright? More than anybody else." He felt her tears seeped through his shirt and felt his own heart twist. She seemed to shrink before him. "Chloe, there was nothing else you could've possibly done. He already let them take him down. He was weak. He wasn't like you."

"I'm not like you."

She gasped and pushed him away, as if she'd been scalded.

"Chloe-"

"How would you know?" she cried, echoing Andrew's words, while endless tears streamed, "How would you know, huh? You and your sob stories about your stepmother and your dead mother."

The tears blurred her vision, so she couldn't see his suddenly pale complexion.

She sobbed, "You think you've had it so tough? You have no idea what the hell you're talking about. You've always had your father and Belle. You've always known there were people, who cared about you. That people loved you." She ran her sleeve over her eyes, driven now by sheer emotion. "You don't know what it's really like to feel totally alone and abandoned. To not be able to turn to anyone, because…" her breath hitching, "Because there's just no one there! So don't stand there and pretend like you understand, ok?"

"And Prince Philip has a fucking clue?" he countered, so shaken with hurt and bitterness. No matter what he did or how much he gave, no one ever chose him. "He's never been a day without in his entire spoiled life, and I don't see you ripping into him."

Her mouth dropped open. Then her expression turned in disgust. "I can't believe you. A boy is dead. He killed himself right before my eyes, and all you can do is badmouth Philip."

"Well, where the hell is he, huh?" Brady challenged, striking out to hide the pain. He should've learned long ago that words could cripple more than any physical blow. Just now, Chloe proved it again. And he could only defend himself by responding in kind. "Where is sweet Philip, while you're here crying your eyes out? When Belle told me what happened to you, it didn't take much to figure out where you'd be. So here I am. But I don't see dear Prince Philip anywhere. Do you?"

In reply, her eyes iced over to slits. She crossed her arms over her chest and turned her back to him to stare across the water. "I want you to leave. Now."

"Fine," he growled between clenched teeth, "I don't need this." With that, Brady turned on his heels and took the steps two at a time back to the upper level. So overwhelmed was he that he nearly ran into a solemn Philip. Brady didn't even have the energy to have it out with his rival. He needed to escape. So, he simply sneered and stalked off.

Philip watched him disappear around the corner and then turned back to Chloe. She still faced the water, but he could tell by the small shudders down her spine that she was crying. He would think about the explosive verbal exchange between her and Brady later. Right now, she needed comfort. And he needed to give it.

So, he took the steps slowly, one, because he didn't want to startle her, and two, because, he wasn't sure, if he knew the right thing to say. Then, his foot landed on a somewhat corroded step, which creaked under his weight.

Chloe shouted, "I told you to leave me alone!" and whirled. And gasped. "Philip."

He stepped onto the lower deck and said, "Hey, beautiful."

She bit down on her lip, while her teary eyes darted to and fro, suddenly unsure.

Then, he opened his arms.

"Oh, Philip…" and she fell into them, crying.

Tenderly, he kissed her hair. "I know, baby. I know."

After the tears were spent, Chloe rested her head against his heart, comforted by his hand that stroked her back. They sat on the dock's edge, where the afternoon sun warmed their skin. Philip held her close and listened.

"Andrew reminded me so much of myself, when I first came to Salem. When I saw people pick on him and torture him, I remembered all those horrible months of glares, name-calling, and pranks. And everyone calling me 'Ghoul Girl.'"

"Including me," admitted Philip.

Chloe pulled back and looked away, ashamed at her cowardice but uncertain once more in her self-worth.

"I remember those times, too," said Philip, "I didn't have a clue what to make of you. But there you were… No matter what people said to you or did to you, you gave as good as you got. And it was so damn frustrating for me, because I used to care about what everyone thought of me. But you… It was like nothing got to you.

"Then, I heard you sing that night at the Pub. And afterwards when we talked on the pier. And then when you found that dead bird. I remember you crying. You were so sad for it." He cupped her cheek and used a gentle thumb to wipe away the tears. "That's when I knew. You were as tough as they came, but inside that tough shell, you felt deeper than anyone else." He held her face in his palms, looking deep into those tortured sapphire eyes. "That's why you cried for that little bird. It wasn't that nothing touched you. Everything touched you. And you take it all inside yourself. That's why you cried for Andrew, when no one else would. That's why you're crying for him now."

Something sweet curled around her heart then. "No one's ever understood me the way you do…" she said with some awe. Then she turned away. "Now that you do, I-I don't know why you're still here." Chloe choked on a sob.

He caught her chin, not allowing her to hide from him. From herself. "Because I love you, remember? We're going to get through this, like everything else. I don't care, if you grew a snout at this point." His heart lightened, when she gave a shaky laugh. "I'm in this for the long haul. You got that? So, don't even think about trying to shake me loose."

Moved beyond words, she hugged him. Suddenly, life didn't seem so bleak, when there was someone to share it with. They held each other and watched the water together.