TOW the Thanksgiving that Never Was

Summary: On Thanksgiving, married Monica and Chandler are thrown into an alternate universe where they are able to find out what their lives would be like if they never met.

A/N: Don't give me too much credit – this entire plot is based on an episode of "Mad About You." I got hooked on it during the summer, and saw the episode "Up in Smoke," where Jamie and Paul find out what their lives would be like if they never met. Though on that show, it

Frankly, I'm surprised there aren't more Friends/Mad About You crossovers, considering that Phoebe is related to one of the characters.

One last note. I'm going to try to get this done by Thanksgiving. 11 days and counting!

Thanksgiving 2003

Leaning on the back of the couch, Chandler raised an eyebrow as his wife buzzed around the kitchen. It was times like these when her neurotic personality made him worry about her health…both the physical and mental. "Honey, do the words 'obsessive compulsive' mean anything to you?"

"In my book, they translate to 'the only way to get dinner ready on time,'" Monica replied, not even glancing as she ran around the apartment kitchen.

Chandler went to stand next to her while she chopped onions for the stuffing. "Let me help you! I'm not completely incompetent…for the most part…"

"Whatever happened to your aversion to Thanksgiving food?" Monica groaned. She tried to ignore him while she got yet another pan out of a bottom cabinet. "It was great! You'd watch TV, I wouldn't want to hurt you..."

Backing up a little bit, Chandler protested, "I'll forgo any anti-Thanksgiving feelings as long as you stop zipping around! You are not a cartoon!"

"First of all, forgo?" Monica retorted. "And secondly…I'm not a what?"

"A cartoon. You know, at times if you move fast enough you remind me of the Road Runner," Chandler quipped.

Giving him an exasperated glare, Monica slammed a bowl on the counter. "Chandler, I don't need this right now. If you're bursting with turkey day spirit, go watch the parade."

"Okay, you want to know why I haven't been my usual cynical self the past few years?" Chandler snapped. "Because we met on Thanksgiving!"

That finally got Monica to stop moving for a minute. "Oh. We did, didn't we? But that happened long before we started celebrating together…"

"Well, we weren't a couple back then," Chandler pointed out.

Monica seemed to be speechless, then sighed. "You're right. I can't believe I never even made that connection. Wow…so we've known each other for sixteen years today. Happy anniversary," she joked, kissing him.

Kissing her back, Chandler laughed, "I just remembered the first words we said to each other. 'Hi, I'm Ross' little sister.'"

"Oh, and that's better than 'okay'?" Monica reminded him.

Chandler felt his face redden. "Yeah, sorry about that. But in my defense, I did inspire you to be a chef to make up for it."

"I guess you did. It was the first time anyone said I should be a chef," Monica recalled, now smiling while she prepared the turkey to go in the oven.

Chandler paused at that. After a moment, he asked, "Can you imagine how different our lives would be if Ross hadn't brought me home that that Thanksgiving? We might not know each other now."

"Oh, there's no way that would've happened. You were Ross' roommate," Monica reasoned.

Getting into the theory, Chandler went on, "Really? If I never went home with Ross, at all, in four years in college, or you never came up…you don't think it's possible?"

"A bit of a stretch, but possible," Monica admitted. "But then you got the apartment across the hall…"

"Only because Ross mentioned that you'd be right across the hall. I mean, I know we didn't speak then, but I figured at least you weren't a stranger. Otherwise, I think I would have moved in with Ross,'" Chandler informed her.

At that, Monica stared at him. "I never knew that. Wow, our lives really would be different, huh?"

"Scary to think about, isn't it?" Chandler agreed. Noting that she was struggling with a heavy pot, he went to grab it. "Here, let me get that…"

Balancing the pot with one hand, Monica swatted him away with the other. "I can handle it, sweetie. Why don't you set up the buffet? The box of silverware is on it already."

"Oh, fine, give me the chore a five year old can do…" Chandler grumbled, going over to the box.

He was surprised at how much silverware there actually was. There were numerous sets, and the plates ranged from small bread dishes to large dinner ones. Shifting a few objects, Chandler came across a medium-sized bowl that had to be at least twenty years old. Pulling it out, he examined the formal bowl, probably meant for soups at fancy dinner parties. "Hey Mon, how come this is in here? It doesn't match the other sets."

"Oh, that…" Monica replied, taking a minute to glance at it. When she realized what it was, she put down what she had been holding and went over to Chandler's side. "That's, ah…that's the bowl from that first Thanksgiving. The one I served you macaroni and cheese in. My mom was getting rid of some old stuff and…I decided to keep it."

Giving her a quick kiss, Chandler placed it on the corner of the table. "Aw, that's so sweet. We should keep it out this year."

"Good idea," Monica replied, going back into the kitchen.

About fifteen minutes later, Chandler was done with setting the buffet. He had stacked the silverware and the plates near the bowl. Taking the box off and putting it on the floor, he knocked off some forks. Bending over to collect them, Chandler went to stand…and hit his head on the table in the process.

What happened next seemed to proceed in agonizingly slow motion. The flimsy table trembled like there was an earthquake. Near the edge, the twenty-year-old bowl slid off the table and crashed onto the floor, breaking into a million tiny pieces.

The two simply stared at the mess for a minute, disbelief on each of their faces. Trying to swallow the lump in his throat, Chandler stuttered, "O-oh my God, Monica, I am so, so sorry…"

"N-no, it was an accident…" Monica stammered, but Chandler swore there were tears welling in her eyes. Wiping them away, Monica reached under the counter for a dust pan and broom. "It doesn't matter, anyway. It really wasn't that important."

She didn't fool him. Chandler knew his wife well enough to know when she was very upset. "No, honey, I'll clean that up. Why don't you sit down for a little while? You need a break."

"But…" Monica was about to protest, but gave a resigned sigh. "Fine. I need to call Ross and ask him something anyway."

While Chandler cleaned, Monica got the living room phone and dialed. "Hey, Ross. Um, can you do me a favor and bring over a couple of serving dishes? I can't seem to find all of mine."

"Who is this?"

Monica wrinkled her brow in confusion at Ross's question. "Um, it's Monica, your sister?"

"Monica? Why the hell are you calling about serving dishes? We haven't spoken in months."

Hearing Ross' exclamation, Chandler stopped cleaning and went over to listen. Sharing a glance with Monica, he replied, "Dude, what are you talking about? You just saw her yesterday!"

"Chandler? What the hell…why are you with my sister? I've never even introduced you!"

"Okay, Ross, stop it," Monica ordered. "You're really freaking me out."

There was a silence, then he responded, "Look, I don't know if you're trying to make me fell guilty for sticking you with Mom and Dad last Thanksgiving since I went to London with Emily…"

"Emily?" Now it was Monica's turn to be shocked. "B-but…"

"But I don't appreciate it. I'll see you at Christmas."

With that, he hung up.