Title: Escaping The Web
Author: SomewhereBeyondReality
Rating: K
Summary: "Politics is not a game. It is an earnest business." Monica Geller has long resisted the expectations of a Senator's daughter. But when she falls for lowly aide Chandler Bing, things really start to get complicated. Meanwhile Chandler struggles with his growing feelings and issues from the past that could threaten everything. Modern Day AU. Mondler.
Disclaimer: Yeah, you've got me, I'm a Friends writer. After 10 award winning seasons, I decided to branch out and try fan fiction.
A/N: Oh god this story. This has actually been in the works since about March but has taken me forever to publish it. Between having written it on paper and having to type it up, getting distracted with one shots and of course starting university this year, it's a miracle the first chapter has finally arrived. So very intense moment. I have about half of it written on paper, but no promises on when the next chapter will be up. I'm trying to edit my stuff more, but I don't like editing much so sometimes work ends up sitting in my folder for a while until I get around to it. Pretty simple premise: AU, Monica and Ross are Senator's children, and Chandler is a Senators aide, Phoebe, Joey and Rachel are all involved. The premise was partially inspired by Jana's 'Digital Fairytale' but develops very differently.

X-X

"I'm so happy for you guys!"

"Thanks Mon."

Ross and Rachel smiled, wrapping their arms around each other and staring goofily into each other's eyes. Monica resisted rolling her eyes at their soppiness.

Ross withdrew his arm from his new wife, and tugged her hand.

"Rach, we'd better make the rounds."

"Ugh, do we have to?" She groaned.

"Yes, it's very important that we appreciate our guests."

"Ok, but I'm not talking to your dinosaur friends. You'll be on that homo-erectus stuff for hours!"

"They're academics! It's better than your society friends, who can't say anything without screaming."

"Hey!"

"Oh god! Just go." Monica groaned, waving her hand at them. "You'll have plenty of time to argue later!"

The two of them smiled at her sheepishly, and walked off round the tables. Monica smirked. Thank god they'd finally made it, Ross-And-Rachel had been an on/off drama for years, and she was still surprised they'd settled down enough to get married.

After all. She mused. They've only broken up and got back together like a billion times.

Smiling slightly, she headed for the open bar, trying not to look at the elaborate wedding decorations adorning around the cavernous hall. There were ice sculptures around the edge of the room, lights were twisted around every pillar and was that a Greek statue by the top table?

Oh god.

Monica hated how her politics and her parent's expectations twisted something personal into a public show. This was Ross and Rachel's wedding but half the guests were politicians her father needed to 'connect' with, and the other half were business friends of the Greens. Just because Jack Geller was a Senator and Leonard Green was one of the richest men in America didn't mean they had to invite the paparazzi to everything. Why couldn't this be Ross and Rachel's day? But no, it was Ross-The-Senator's-Son and Rachel-Old-Money performing for the newspapers. As usual.

Monica sighed and slumped down at the bar, waving the bartender over. She'd never been a fan of her parent's lifestyle, and knew she disappointed them by not acting like a proper 'politician's daughter'. Her mother had been devastated when she chose a culinary course over Finishing school in Europe, and asked every time they met if she'd 'finally' found someone suitable. And today was worse than usual. Now that Ross was married, her mother could target her single, unmarried and totally pathetic daughter even more. Apparently she had a guy set up for her tonight: some her dad needed to win over for a new bill. Why did her families politics have to control her love life? Seriously?

She ordered a scotch on the rocks and stared at the contents moodily, swashing it inside the glass. It wasn't that Monica didn't want to get married. Her biggest dream was to find someone, fall in love and raise a family together...but she didn't want a life like this. Parties for senators and business men, and showing off to the press and talking politics over dinner. She wanted something normal; someone she could laugh with and smile at over the dinner table and watch movies with, She wanted love to be real, not a political business deal.

Whatever Monica. She told herself. That's never going to happen. The only guys interested want you for your dad's position or mom's money. Give it up and move on.

With that cheery thought, she downed her drink in a gulp.

X-X

Chandler Bing surveyed the crowd wearily, the beginnings of a headache throbbing at his temples.

Slimy social climbers and rich bitches forcing awkward conversation. His favourite way to spend the weekend.

God, smite me now.

Was this really his life? Why was he even in this job? What was he even doing here?

Don't go there. Chandler warned himself quickly, feeling his stomach sink familiarly. Don't follow that train of thought. You know why you're here.

He glanced at his boss. He was hunched in a shady corner of the wedding, barking orders into his phone. Snorting, Chandler turned away and headed for the bar. The best way to forget about your crappy life is alcohol right?

As he ordered a beer, he noticed a woman perched a few seats away, staring sadly around the room.

He recognised her as the Maid of Honour, the groom's sister and bride's best friend if he remembered right. Something Geller; Mary? Melanie? She was beautiful with pale, freckled skin and the dark Geller hair. Her crimson bridesmaids dress clung to every curve of her slender body and the neckline settled just over her delicate collarbone. Most importantly she looked as miserable as he felt.

Chandler swallowed nervously, wondering if he should talk to her. He'd been rejected by too many attractive women (hell unattractive women) to confidently approach strangers. His pick up lines usually turned into stuttering disasters. And with someone as beautiful as her...no way. Not even worth trying, but maybe this time...he inched nervously towards her.

She put down her glass and stood up, not noticing him, and Chandler shrunk back.

Could she be more out of my league?

However, as he turned away, a waiter with a tray of champagne glasses walked past. The guy glanced at the Geller woman, obviously distracted by her cleavage. Staring at her breasts and not his feet, he slipped on a puddle, stumbling and lurching forward. The tray slipping from his grasp, champagne glasses wobbling precariously.

Chandler didn't think. He leapt out of his seat and shoved (Megan?) Geller out of the way. The waiter collided with him instead. Champagne splattered over him, the tray crashing down and glasses smashing to the floor.

Ok. That went well.

Silence fell and Chandler didn't want to look around.

Oh, good job Bing.

"Sir, I'm so sorry, please forgive me, I –" The waiters scared voice interrupted him, and Chandler forced himself to look up.

"Sorry," The guy babbled, dabbing at his shirt. "I wasn't paying attention and it slipped – my employer will be so angry –"

Chandler glanced furtively around. The bar was at the back of the hall, so only a few guests at the end tables were glaring at him. Thankfully, the music and dancing had drowned out the commotion.

"Don't worry about it." Chandler told the terrified waiter quickly. "Mistakes happen." He picked up the tray and passed it back. "If you clear the mess up fast no one will notice."

"You – you won't tell anyone?"

"No."

The waiter gazed at him gratefully. "Thank you sir." He hurried away.

Chandler rolled his shoulders uncomfortably, the damp shirt sticking to his skin.

If Doug hears I've caused trouble I'll be dead meat. Even if it was to save a damsel in distress...Wherever that woman's gone.

As if hearing his thoughts, a gentle hand touched his shoulder and Chandler spun around nervously, seeing the smiling face of the pretty Maid of Honour.

"Thanks for that." She smiled at him.

"Um, uh...what?"

Full sentences Chandler! Speak in full sentences!

She frowned. "You pushed me out of the way? Without you I'd be the one covered in...this." She gestured to his dripping shirt.

"It was no biggie." Chandler shrugged awkwardly.

"It would have been to my mother." She muttered, scowling but her face brightened quickly. "I can get you a clean shirt though."

"Uh, you don't have to."

"It's the least I can do. Come on."

Feeling dazed, Chandler let her lead him out of the hall, along an elaborate corridor and through a white, wooden door at the end. He walked into the room and stumbled to a stop, mouth falling open.

"Whoa"

The room was filled with more gaudily wrapped gifts than he'd seen since his parent's 'divorce shower'. There was a small square of space just inside the room where he and Molly? were standing, and narrow path cutting through to another door on their left. Apart from that the floor was covered completely in presents of all sizes stacked almost to the ceiling, most of them decorated with shiny wrapping paper and ribbons that probably destroyed half the Amazon.

"Um, whoa. Did Santa Claus relocate or something?"

Surprisingly, the woman grinned at his lame joke. "They're all Ross and Rachel's wedding present. Welcome to the advantage of inviting too many rich guests."

"I'll say. So what, someone gave your brother a stack of new shirts and you want me to help myself?"

"Are you always this sarcastic?"

"Most of the time. It's how I interact with other life forms." Chandler admitted.

The woman laughed again, keenly scanning the room for something. "Figures. And no I'm not going to steal my brother's presents. Earlier I'm sure I put some shirts..."

Her voice grew muffled as she crouched down and crawled between two coffee machine shaped parcels. Unfortunately this meant her butt, clad in the tight, red dress, was sticking in the air. Chandler desperately resisted looking.

"Please don't get stuck under there." He called, flushing and forcing himself to close his eyes. "It would be a really embarrassing way to die!"

The woman snorted, her back still directed towards him. "Yeah, because my biggest fear about dying is how embarrassing it's going to be."

"Well, that's my biggest fear." He muttered, keeping his eyes shut.

"What? Why?"

"Because, and believe me on this, my death will be an embarrassing event. People will film it and post in You tube and laugh and I'll become a post-mortem internet star. "

"And you're sure of this because...?"

"Because my life is embarrassing and the universe loves symmetry. Just wait, I'll accidentally shoot myself playing paintball...or get taken hostage and insult the captors hairstyle so they'll kill me...or - or get run over by a pensioner going 3 miles an hour...or – or..."

"You know you can open your eyes now."

His eyes snapped open. The woman had come out of the present mound and was standing in front of him, dangling a crumpled bag from her hand and grinning. Her amused expression said she knew exactly why he'd closed his eyes. Chandler groaned.

"How long have you been standing there?"

"From 'my life is embarrassing," she quoted, grinning more widely. "I wanted to see how long you could keep going."

"Oh god," He flushed again. "See what I mean about the universe loving symmetry?"

"Your life is indeed tragic," She teased but her eyes softened. "I think it was sweet. Gentlemanly."

"There's a label I've never had before."

"Anyway, here are some of Ross's spare clothes." She said, switching to a business like tone and gesturing to her bag. "I made sure I brought some in case something went wrong. Which considering how clumsy my brother is wouldn't have been surprising. The shirt might be a little big, but should do at a pinch."

She thrust the bag at him but Chandler hesitated. "Are you sure? I can't just wander off wearing the groom's clothes!"

"Please. He's so busy staring at Rachel he wouldn't notice if he was naked."

"Well there's an image I never wanted."

"Just take them, the bathrooms through that door on the right."

"Ok, ok." Chandler caved, taking the bag. "Are you always this organized?"

"Well someone has to be." She looked sheepish.

"Right." He held out his spare hand, feeling idiotically nervous. "I'm Chandler Bing by the way."

"Monica Geller." She shook it, her hand was rougher than he'd have expected from a senator's daughter.

"Nice to meet you. I'll, um, go and get changed."

"Good plan."

X-X

Chandler dressed quickly, buttoning his new shirt and shoving the damp one in a spare bag included within the first bag. (She gave a whole new definition to 'organized').

Monica. That was her name: Monica. And she was nice as well as gob-smackingly beautiful, giving him her brother's shirt and laughing at his jokes.

Don't get your hopes up Bing. Chandler told himself sternly. She'll have left when you walk out of here.

There was no way such an amazing woman would stick around with him, even for one night. She should be back at the wedding reception dancing with senators or millionaires or something, not helping out an idiot who could barely resist staring at a woman's bum. God Joey and Phoebe would be laughing right now.

Keeping these thoughts in mind, he came out of the bathroom and edged his way through the gorge between the present piles. To his surprise Monica was waiting patiently for him, sitting with her back against the closed door.

Even more surprisingly, her eyes lit up when she saw him.

"Heya."

"Um, hi."

She stood her gracefully, her dress swirling about her. He swallowed dryly.

"So, um..." He stared around the room, desperate for something to say, make her stick around. His gaze fell on a object in the corner, which unlike everything else in the room, was unwrapped.

"Is that a foosball table?"

"Wh – oh yeah." Monica strolled over and twirled a row of plastic men absently. "It's my gift to Ross and Rachel. They're not meant to have opened it yet, but this morning Ross was so hyper I unwrapped it and let him play a game. He lost obviously but at least he calmed down." She smiled at Chandler impishly. "Of course now he's claiming I bought it for myself and not him. He's such a sore loser."

A foosball table for a wedding present? Chandler wanted to propose on the spot. (Commitment phobia and his crappy job notwithstand).

"So you normally beat your brother?" He said instead.

"Yeah, but he's a wuss."

He smirked, recognising the challenge in her blue eyes.

"Want some real competition?"

X-X

"And SCORE!" Monica yelled half an hour later. "Take that Bing!"

"Argh." Chandler threw his hands up. "But I was so close!"

"So close doesn't cut it." Monica teased victoriously. "40 – 2 to Monica!"

"I surrender." Chandler said. "You're like Joey when he sees a sandwich."

"Whose Joey?" Monica asked, symmetrically repositioning the players.

"My roommate."

Monica looked curious, but she glanced at the clock hanging above the door and gasped.

"Shoot, I need to get back. If my mother finds out I've been hiding for this long she'll kill me."

Chandler looked at the clock as well, also feeling worried.

Half an hour? Doug better still be on the phone or he really will kill me.

Then he looked at Monica, flushing from the game and her hair falling out her neat bun.

"Do I look alright?" She whispered nervously, sweeping loose hairs back behind her ears.

"You look perfect." He said honestly.

She blushed and his stomach squirmed pleasurably, no matter what Doug did to him this was so worth it.

They left quickly and crept back down the passage to the main reception hall. They opened the double doors a crack and peeked inside.

Doug was still pacing in the corner, jabbering on is phone and Chandler sighed in relief. Beside him, Monica did the same.

"I don't think my mom's noticed I'm gone, so I'm free for a while longer. Do you, uh, do you want to dance?" She suddenly looked nervous.

Did – did – she just...oh god, what do I do? What do I say? THINK, Chandler, THINK.

He brain froze, jammed with memories of dancing humiliations.

Don't let her see that.

"Um, um, well..."

"You don't have to," she said quickly, going red. "You probably have heaps of other people you want to see, I just thought..."

"Oh god Monica, it's not that I don't want to," Chandler blurted, flabbergasted she thought he'd rather spend time with anyone apart from her. "It's just...I can't dance. I'm like C-3-P0 on the dance floor. You don't want to be seen with me."

He shuffled his feet, risking a look at her. Monica was staring at him thoughtfully, creasing her smooth forehead.

"Alright. What if we danced out here?" She gestured to the empty passageway. "We can keep the doors closed but the music's loud enough to hear."

A grin broke across his face, feeling amazed she'd go to that effort for him. "Ok! If you want to risk it. Just don't be surprised if you never want to see me again."

"Oh I highly doubt that."

They closed the doors and positioned themselves in the middle of corridor. Chandler gripped Monica's waist with one hand, and laced her fingers with his other one. Her spare hand rested on his shoulder and he tried not to tremble at the contact.

After a few false starts and some stumbling they found a rhythm, and it wasn't as bad as Chandler expected. (Though that was probably because of the woman he was dancing with, rather than his improved skills).

"So is Joey your only roommate?" She asked, continuing their previous conversation.

"Yeah, though Phoebe comes over so much she might as well pay rent."

"Phoebe?"

"Phoebe Buffay. Joey met her in a dance class. He hit on her, got rejected and we've all been best friends ever since."

"Phoebe Buffay..." Monica mused. "Why do I recognise that name?"

"Senator Buffay?" Chandler offered. "Her dad served in office ages ago when she was a kid. He died suddenly mid-term and instantly became one of the 'best Senators of the age'. Pheebs still gets invited to political events sometimes, maybe you've met her?"

Monica's eyes lit up. "Tall blonde woman? Hair in plaits? Spent the whole night talking about my cloudy aura?"

"Sounds like Phoebe. She's quite um, special."

"I love her." Monica gushed. "She made those dinners bearable but I haven't seen her for a while."

"Yeah, this isn't really her scene."

"Is it anyone's?" She asked wryly. "I only come when my parents force me...so, um, are you and Phoebe like dating?" She inquired casually.

"God no. She's just a friend. I'm sure there's something going on between her and Joey though. But um, I'm uh not seeing anyone."

Monica smiled at him. "Me neither."

She said it simply, like it was just a fact in the conversation, but he flushed anyway.

They continued to dance, Monica smiling quietly and Chandler suppressed the hope that the smile had anything to do with him being single.

Suddenly the music changed, switching to a slower, quieter tune. Monica drew closer to him, wrapping her hand around his neck and leaned her head on his chest. Nervously, Chandler rested his cheek on her hair, his hands trailing up to her back. He exhaled slowly.

Things like this didn't happen to him. Funny, kind, beautiful women didn't willingly spend their nights playing foosball and dancing with HIM.

If I die now, I'll be eternally happy.

"So," he murmured into her hair, "What do you do? Are you following your mother's footsteps and becoming a Senators wife?"

"God no." Monica whispered back. "I try to stay out of that life. Normally I'm a chef."

Ah, that explained the rough hands.

"Do you enjoy it?"

"I love it What do you do?"

Chandler winced at the thought of his 'career'. "I'm uh, um just a Senator's aide. Well 'Aide' is putting it generously. I'm the under assistant of Junior PA of the secretary of the Senators aide. Or 'whipping boy' if you prefer."

"Wow, uh sounds like fun."

"Oh it's a hoot." Chandler quipped, trying to sound upbeat. "Actually, it's a fluke that I'm here tonight, normally I'm not important enough to be let out. But almost everyone else was sick or away or busy with others things."

"Well." Monica said gently, pulling back to look him straight in the eye. "I'm glad you're here."

He couldn't stop from smiling dopily at her, ducking his eyes shyly. "Thanks."

Thankfully she rested her in the crook of his neck again, so she missed his cheeks turning red.

"So what Senator are you under-under-under aide for? There are at least three of them at this wedding."

"Well, uh..." Chandler began reluctantly.

"Actually no." She interrupted him quickly. "Don't tell me. I don't want to talk politics or connect you with my parents in any way. I'm happy just...here."

"Sounds good to me." He said, struggling to hide his intense relief.

They continued dancing quietly. Swaying together in the empty hallway, the lilting music seeping under the door. Chandler closed his eyes and rested his check against her soft hair, sighing contently.

Eventually the song finished and Monica gently disengaged herself from their embrace, looking embarrassed, her red cheeks flushing adorably. Chandler smiled at her, and seemingly against herself, she smiled back.

They stared at each other for a moment, before she looked reluctantly at the door.

"We should get back."

"R-Right. Yeah, ok."

He blinked dazedly, stumbling after her through the doors and into the hall. He paused, when he reached the bar where they'd met.

"Hey, I'm thirsty after all that dancing. Do you want to get a drink?"

"That would be great." Monica smiled shyly. "I just have to check on Ross and Rachel, join you in a minute?"

"Sounds good. What do you want?"

"Scotch on the rocks with a twist?"

"Coming right up."

He watched her dart away, a flash of scarlet amidst the dancers, then collapsed onto a bar stool.

She was amazing...and...and kind and smart and funny and friendly. And scarily competitive. And fierce. And apparently a world class foosball player.

He was so screwed.

X-X

Monica discovered Ross and Rachel making out behind one of the over-dressed pillars, and decided not to feel guilty about disappearing. It was great not to be the third wheel for once.

She hadn't expected to enjoy the wedding much, and the happiness she feeling now was all down to Chandler. Nice, smart, funny Chandler. Adorably cute Chandler with his blue eyes and rumpled suit and hair mussed up from running his fingers through it. Now he'd relaxed, she was sure he was the sweetest man she'd met in a long time. He didn't show off like other men, in fact he seemed nervous and self-deprecating. But they'd clicked in a way Monica hadn't felt before. With that happy thought, she left Ross and Rachel alone and headed back to the bar, smiling broadly.

"Monica darling!" Her mother's voice wiped her smile away instantly. "Where on earth have you been?"

Monica froze, as her parents pushed through the crowd in front of her, cutting off her route to the bar and Chandler. Behind them followed a well-built man with groomed hair and a spotless tux.

"Monica," Her father said, looking at her sternly. "This is Senator Doug. He's been waiting to meet you all night."

Monica forced a smile and extended her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you Senator."

"The pleasure is all mine Miss Geller. Your parents were exaggerating when they spoke of your beauty." He scanned the length of her, licking his lips.

Monica smiled thinly and withdrew her hand. "That's funny. They never say anything that nice to my face."

"Ah, such a sense of humour has our Monica." Judy said, laughing agitatedly and jabbing her in the ribs. "I knew you two would hit it off."

She narrowed her eyes at Monica, flickering her gaze meaningfully back to Doug. Monica felt ice slipping down her spine.

Oh god, this was him. The Senator her father had been working for weeks to gain support for a new bill. And now her parents wanted her to flirt with him to get his allegiance.

Well, no waywas she demeaning herself like this! She had standards! (And a sweet, funny man waiting for her at the bar).

"Well," she said firmly, sidestepping the trio. "It's been lovely meeting your Senator. But I must go and make the rounds."

"Now?" Senator Doug asked, "I was hoping to catch you for a dance."

"No, I really can't –"

"Oh that's a wonderful idea!" Judy exclaimed. "Monica loves dancing!"

She all but pushed her daughter into Doug's arm, overriding Monica's protests.

"Enjoy yourselves!"

And so Monica found herself being dragged onto the dance floor, trapped in the arms of Senator Doug. Inwardly she groaned.

Great, just great.

X-X

After twenty minutes Chandler was getting antsy. Where is she? Did she get caught up with someone? Are Ross and Rachel ok?

He decided to look for her, holding a glass in each hand and edging his way through the crowd. Maybe she was busy with her Mom: Senator Geller's wife seemed kind of demanding.

He reached the dance floor, glanced at the dancers and jerked to a stop, feeling like he'd been punched in the gut.

Monica.

Monica dancing with Doug. Monica looping her arms around his neck, smiling at something he said. Monica with his boss.

Chandler swallowed, the emptiness in his stomach turning to a dull ache.

God he was an idiot. What guy dances once with a woman and thinks it means something? He was lucky Monica had noticed him at all, especially with so many other richer, better-looking, more successful guys around. Guys like Doug. Fricking Senators for crying out loud!

Get over yourself Bing, you were right to start with, she's way out of your league.

X-X

After three songs, Monica was ready to scream. The Senator ("Please call me Doug darling") was turning out to be the most arrogant, revolting, boring conversationalist she'd ever met. As a Senator's daughter, that was saying a lot.

He'd told her about his business ventures and his company and his politics and his upcoming elections and a bunch of things she didn't care about. Would it hurt to talk about someone other than himself?

Monica wondered desperately where Chandler was now. Had he got bored and left? Or would he come and rescue her? She clung to that hope, as Doug launched into another story about his incompetent aide.

"I really have to go." Monica tried, pulling away from him again.

Doug only gripped her waist tighter, pulling her back. "Do you have to darling? I was hoping – " Suddenly his face changed, glaring at something over her shoulder. "Is that Bing? Where has he been all night? Hey Bing! Get over here!" He raised his voice.

Monica stumbled over his feet and stopped dancing. Slowly, she turned around to see who he was yelling at.

Bing? Please don't say he means...

He did. Oh god. Oh god, oh god, oh god.

Chandler approached slowly, his expression carefully blank as he looked at the two of them. With a pang, Monica realized he was still holding two glasses.

"You wanted me Sir?" He asked quietly, stopping in front of Doug.

"God dammit I wanted you." Doug said irritably. "Where have you been for the last hour?"

"Sorry Sir," Chandler said, staring at the floor. "I thought you were still on the phone."

"I asked what you were doing. Not what I was doing you idiot. Are you utterly incapable?"

At this, Monica had to intervene. She opened her mouth to explain, take the blame for his absence when she caught Chandler's eye. Ever so subtly he shook his head, obviously warning her not to saying anything about their meeting. She frowned in response and panic flickered across his face. He shook his head more adamantly and Monica closed her mouth, feeling annoyed.

What had happened to Chandler? Gone was the relaxed, laughing man she'd danced with in the foyer. This man was quiet and cowed, taking Doug's insults on him. He looked intimidated and timid, brow-beaten by his boss.

She stared at his bowed head. Chandler?

"Anyway." Doug finally finished his strip down of Chandler. "At least you got me a drink."

He plucked Chandler's drink from his hand and drank deeply, then took Monica's scotch and handed it to her.

"There we go darling."

Monica sipped it awkwardly, trying to edge away but keeping her eyes on Chandler. Maybe she could escape now, and explain and...

Her escape was interrupted by a phone ringing.

"Shoot." Doug muttered, pulling it out of his pocket. He spoke tersely into the mobile. "Yeah, it's me again. Can you hold for a moment?"

He turned to Monica apologetically. "I'm so sorry I have to cut this short Miss Geller. I was looking forward to getting to know you better."

I wasn't.

"It's fine." Monica said convincingly. "Nice meeting you."

He grabbed her hand and held on. "It's not fine at all. We were getting on so well."

Um, what?

"Can't I take you out to dinner sometime?"

"I don't think that's a good idea." She said firmly, very aware of Chandler standing behind him. "I'm rather busy at the moment."

"No she's not." Her mother's voice interrupted and Monica jerked around.

Judy Geller stepped up beside her and shot Doug a dazzling smile. "She's not busy at all, ignore her Doug, she'd love to have dinner with you."

Doug grinned, squeezing her hand eagerly. "Great! Does Thursday night work for you?"

"Well no, you see –"

"Yes!" Her mother said happily. "That would be perfect."

"Marvellous. I'll pick you up at 7. See you then Monica. Come on Bing." Doug strode away, already barking orders into his phone.

Chandler stepped forward and nodded stiffly to her,

"Goodnight...Miss Geller." She saw a flash of pain in his eyes at the title, before his gaze dropped again. "Nice meeting you."

He walked away before she could say anything. Monica staring numbly after him.

"I'm only doing what's best you know." Her mother said sternly. "Your father needs all the help he can get from Senator Doug. And you dear, need all the help you can get with finding men."

She sniffed and stalked off, Monica was too defeated to even respond. She closed her eyes, disappointment seeping through her every pore.

What the hell was she going to do now?

X-X

A/N: And there's chapter 1. Please review, like I said I've been working on this story for a while and it's been a few years since I've attempted a full-length fic. So any responses would mean a lot!