I feel the bed shake and wake with a start; I didn't even realize I'd drifted off. It takes me half a second to realize that my wife's sobs are what's causing the bed to move. I wrap my arms around her, pulling her head to my shoulder.

I don't tell her to "Shhh," I don't tell her everything will all right; all I do is hold her and let her cry as her tears soak through my t-shirt.

I rock her back and forth, hoping to be of some comfort. "I'm sorry," I finally whisper, my voice hoarse. "I'm so sorry."

I feel her shake her head against my neck. "It's not your fault," she whispers, and even though I don't believe her, I know she means it.

"It's not your fault, either," I tell her, and I feel sobs convulse through her body again.

"Why did this happen to us?" she asks, her breath hitching as she tries to regain some control.

I have no answer for her, though. I don't know why.

"We'll figure this out," I whisper in to her hair. "We will."

It's only been a few hours since the doctor called to let us know that we'd probably never be able to make a baby together; I'm still sick thinking about it. Monica has wanted a baby her entire life and now, because of me, she might never get that.

God damn it.

All I want is to be able to give her a baby. That's not asking so much from the world. People get pregnant by accident all the time, people who aren't ready, who don't want it, whatever, and here are two people who have been trying for a year to make this happen, who want it more than anything…and nothing.

I don't think I realized how much I wanted it until I found out we might never have it.

That's not completely true; I only really want a baby with her. I wouldn't want a family with anyone else.

She crawls in to my lap, limbs twining around me, and we hold each other close. Nothing has ever hurt like this.

"I should have known something was wrong," she says softly, sniffling.

"How could you possibly?"

"We've been together for five years, Chandler—not one pregnancy scare. Think about it."

I want to contradict her, tell her that it's not true, but…she's right. Not once did we sit in fear as we stared at a pregnancy test, anxious for the results. "I never thought about it," I breathe.

"I didn't either. I just thought I was really meticulous about everything, and that we were really lucky." Her body starts to shake with tears again. "Not so lucky, huh? Turns out I can't even have a baby."

"Oh, Monica. Dr. Connelly didn't say you couldn't have a baby. It's just going to be really hard for us to conceive. It could happen."

"Yeah, right," she scoffs.

"Hey." I pull back a little, gently hold her face in my hands. I've never seen her look so lost or broken; I feel my heart shatter into a million more pieces. "You always win, remember? If you want a baby, we'll have a baby."

She gives me a watery chuckle, but the smile never reaches her eyes. "I don't think it actually works that way when it comes to fertility."

I kiss her forehead, and wrap my arms around her once more. "We'll keep trying, okay?"

I feel her nod against me, but I can tell that, at least right now, her heart's not in it.

Mine isn't either, at the moment.

I just can't believe the world would do this to us—as if low motility or an inhospitable environment weren't bad enough on their own, we somehow managed to have both. What the hell are the odds?

"I'm just so, so sorry, Mon." I don't know what else to say at this point because nothing is going to make this better. "If you'd fallen in love with someone better, everything would be fine. You'd have a baby and—"

"Stop." She leans back and looks me in the eye, and for the first time in hours, I can see a bit of Monica's spirit. "This didn't just happen t me, okay? It's happening to us. Us, Chandler. We can't have a baby, not just me. We promised to love each other for better and for worse; this will just have to be the part that's the 'worse.' But you're right—we will figure it out. It's going to be horrible and painful, but we'll get through it." She leans forward and kisses me gently and I tighten my grip around her waist. "Chandler…you're so concerned about how this is affecting me, and I love you for it, but what about you?"

I look at her, startled. "What about me?"

"I can't give you a baby, either, and it's breaking my heart. You would be such a good father, and I can't…I won't be able…" She breaks in to fresh sobs, and I hold her tight, breathing deeply, fighting for control.

"I don't blame you for any of this, Monica. Don't ever think that."

"I just wanted to be able to have your baby. I've been dreaming about this for so long, and you've been so excited about it, and now…I might never be able to do this for you."

I feel tears welling up in my eyes, and I try to blink them back. I just want to be strong for my wife.

"It's okay to cry, Chandler; you can be upset about this. You don't need to be strong for me."

I bury my face in her neck, my head pounding from the strain, fighting it. I shake my head slightly.

"Mourn with me," she whispers in my ear and I feel the dam break. I weep into my wife's shoulder, my entire body shaking, pain like I've never felt before coursing through my veins.

Nothing in my life has hurt like this.

Monica grabs at me, her fingers digging in to my arms, her sobs mingling with mine.

We rock each other back and forth, trying to comfort each other, desperate for comfort of our own. Tears fall unending from our eyes. As much as I want to tell her that we'll get through this, that somehow, everything will be okay, I can't find the words right now.

Right now…it just hurts.

*A/N…I've had this little nugget floating around in my head for at least a month now, but haven't been able to bring myself to write it. It makes me sad thinking about it. But I don't think they ever really dealt with how this affected Chandler and Monica—they kind of glossed it over.