Perfect

Rating – pg-pg13 depending on your sensibilities

Season – any, deals with memory pre-season 1

Spoilers – none

Disclaimer – I don't own Friends. I have friends, but I do not own them.

Summary – A pre-season 1 flashback of Monica just after she loses weight. Mondler comfort. Pre-relationship.

A/N: Hey Everybody! Here is my first Friends story. I've written for other categories and thought I'd give this one a try. Please excuse any fluffiness, but it would seem I can't help myself... I really love a serious, caring Chandler, so just humour me. Hope you enjoy and thanks for reading!

Best wishes and lots of love,

Christine

The gang sat on the sofa just watching as Monica cleaned the kitchen. Right now, she was focusing on aligning the cups into perfect rows. She'd already straightened them five minutes ago, but no one dared say anything. Her parents were coming over for dinner. She always cleaned like a crazy woman when they came, but today seemed even worse for some reason.

"Do you think she remembers we're here?" Chandler asked in fascination as he watched her.

"No way," Joey answered. "It's all about the cups now. We're nothing to her anymore."

"Hey, do you guys remember the time we found her cleaning her rubber cleaning gloves?" Phoebe asked.

"Yeah, I thought she was washing her dish soap at first," Chandler replied.

"Hmmm," Rachel shook her head, then turned back to the Spanish soap opera playing on the TV. The others joined her. All except Chandler.

He watched Monica closely, ready to intervene. Just as he was about to go to her, she turned away from the cups, gave everything a quick look over, then joined him on the couch. He put his arm around her. "That a girl," he said softly.

Ross looked up as his roommate came into the apartment. "Hey, Chandler, listen, my sister's coming up for the weekend. I told her she could crash here like before. I didn't think you'd mind."

"No, of course not, that's cool."

Chandler remembered Monica from the last time she and her friend Rachel had visited them. They'd ended up going to a frat party. He shuddered slightly as he remembered the bean bag chairs...

"Um, there's something I should tell you. I suppose you remember the last time Mon was here that she was rather heavy, right?"

Chandler bit his tongue on a dozen not-so-funny jokes. "Yes," he said carefully.

"Well, this last year she lost some weight, and I think she's a little vulnerable right now. Just sounds kind of weird on the phone, you know?"

"Please don't tell me we're having a discussion about feelings."

"I just figured I should warn you not to say anything about her weight. Just treat her like normal, okay?" Ross asked.

"Okay, fine," Chandler agreed. "But you can't stop me after she leaves. Hell, even I can't stop myself half the time."

Monica arrived that evening. Chandler stared in shock. Ross had told him she'd lost weight, but he hadn't said how much. The girl in front of him was so small. Despite her beauty, she looked tired or sick or something.

"Hey, Monica. Good to see you again," Chandler held out his hand to take her bag, proud of himself for his normal, non-insulting greeting.

"Hey, Chandler," she said.

"Mon, it's so good to see you," Ross said, hugging her close. "I saved some pizza for you. It's in the fridge."

"No, that's okay. I grabbed something on the way here."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, sure. Thanks," she smiled.

"Well, okay then. Listen, there's a party at Mike's place tonight. I was thinking we could all go, but if you'd like to get some sleep instead..."

"No, that sounds good. I'd like to get out," she said.

The party was going full swing when they arrived. As soon as they walked in the door, they were enveloped by the crowd. Ross looked surprised when Monica left them to walk around.

Chandler watched in shock as she grabbed a drink, walked up to people she'd never met before, and started talking and laughing. Definitely not the same girl from last year.

They didn't watch her for long. She seemed to be holding her own.

By the time they got back to their apartment, it was one in the morning. Chandler and Monica helped a semi-conscious Ross into bed. He'd had more to drink than either of them.

"Wait," Chandler said. "Aren't you supposed to be sleeping in here?"

"That's okay," Monica shrugged. "I think he needs his bed more than I do. I'll just sleep on the couch."

"No, wait, you don't have to do that. You're the guest. I'll take the couch," he offered.

"You're sure you don't mind?"

"Naw, it's fine." He picked up her bag from Ross's floor and carried it into his own room.

"Thanks," Monica said.

"No problem. Night."

"Night."

After an hour of tossing and turning on the small couch, Chandler cursed his chivalry. His neck was already starting to ache. He was barely drifting off when he heard footsteps heading toward the bathroom. Then he heard the unmistakable sound of vomiting. He rubbed a hand over his forehead. "Ross, couldn't you have waited till the morning to do that?" he said more to himself.

The noises stopped, but Ross didn't come back out of the bathroom. Now Chandler was really awake. He decided to check on his friend.

He knocked on the bathroom door. "Hey, you doing okay in there?" he asked.

There was no answer. He tried the doorknob. It was unlocked, so he opened the door.

"Oh my God, Monica." Chandler knelt by her still form on the bathroom floor. He felt her pale face. "Monica, come on, wake up. Monica, can you hear me?"

She started moaning, and Chandler heaved a sigh in relief as she opened her eyes. "God, you scared me." He helped her sit up. She leaned forward and put her head in her hands. Chandler wasn't sure what to do, so he just rubbed her back. "I didn't think you drank that much tonight."

"I'm fine," Monica managed to say, then she tried to stand up.

"Whoa, whoa. You better stay here a little longer." He sat her back down and resumed his back rubbing. "You didn't seem drunk when we got home."

"I wasn't," Monica said quietly.

"Oh, well are you sick? Do you think it's the flu? I can get you some Pepto-Bismol if you want. I can't promise Ross and I haven't drunk straight from the bottle, but it's yours if you want some."

Monica just shook her head. She tried to breathe deeply to ease the light-headedness. Chandler's back rub was definitely making her feel better. She focused on matching her breathing to the rhythm. It was a moment before she realized his hand had gone still.

"Mon, you weren't just feeling sick, were you?" Chandler said more than asked. Monica's throat tightened. She didn't confirm or deny.

Chandler rubbed his other hand through his hair. "Monica, this is crazy. Why would you make yourself sick? You're not eating either, are you?"

This time she shook her head no.

"But you don't have to. I mean, not that anyone should, but you're skinny enough as it is. You couldn't stand to lose any more. You'd just... disappear."

Monica gave a half laugh, trying unsuccessfully to fight back tears. "I wasn't at first," she admitted. "I was just exercising and dieting like normal, but... it just hurt so much, you know?"

Chandler didn't really know, but he let her continue.

"At first, it felt really great, but then everyone started treating me differently. My friends wanted to hang out more. Guys started asking me out. Even my mother was being nicer, and I just- I don't understand why they couldn't have been like that before. Why didn't they see me for who I was all along? Now, I just feel so uncomfortable in my own skin, like I'm a disappointment to everyone, not good enough, not perfect enough. I don't know who I am anymore."

"Well I do. You're a fun, beautiful person. You can dance a funky dance around anyone I know, and you're going to make a brilliant chef one day, and... You're just... you're Monica. Perfect the way you are."

Monica really smiled this time and laced her fingers through his. "Thanks, Chandler."

"You're welcome," Chandler held her close, and ran his fingers through her hair.

Ross was in a class when Monica left two days later. Chandler walked her to her car and put her bag in the trunk.

"I had a really great time this weekend. Thanks for everything, Chandler."

"You're welcome. But listen, are you sure you're going to be all right?"

"I think so," she said.

"I hope you don't mind, but I got the name of a group you should check out. They might be able to help. Kind of a support group thing. They helped me through some stuff, and..." he shrugged as he held out a post-it note with a name and number printed on it. "My number's on the back if you ever need anything."

She took the note and hugged him goodbye. "I'll check out that group," she told him. "I promise."

"That a girl."

He didn't see her again for another two years when he moved across the hall from her. They never talked about that night again, but they didn't really need to.

Chandler came out of his memory when Monica's hand slipped into his. He squeezed her hand in return.

The End.