A/N: Just want to correct a mistake I caught in the prologue. Chandler mistakenly says, "Um, guys, is it just me…or does Blizzard look a lot like Monica?" That wasn't a mistake on Chandler's part. I originally wanted Monica's superhero name to be "Blizzard" for obvious reasons, but then changed it after I remembered that the name was already given to a superhero in the movie "The Incredibles" (great movie, by the way). Guess I missed one when I was going back through the document.

Anyway, thanks for the reviews! ( Exintaris – sorry about misspelling Courteney's name; oops!) I really was beginning to convince myself that this was a beyond stupid idea, but I'm glad everybody liked it.

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Chapter 1

Chandler tossed and turned in his sleep. His eyes just wouldn't stay closed, no matter how hard he tried. It got to be midnight…then one…then it was two in the morning, when he had to be up for work the next day. This is nuts. If I don't stop moving now, my hair's going to look worse than it usually does.

He knew what was bothering him, of course. Whenever Monica hid any kind of problem from him, the sleepless nights came in waves. He kept trying to tell himself that it was no big deal, that she was just coming down with the flu or something. It made sense. Monica hated it when people knew she was sick.

But no matter how many times he told himself that, the more he didn't believe it.

Then he convinced himself that it was better than believing that his future wife was running around with a bunch of superheroes, and the other guy in his head usually quieted down..

Tonight, however, the other guy just wouldn't shut up.

It was that stupid picture. He kept seeing Hurricane, and putting her next to Monica's face it his head. To him, he couldn't help but think she was the same person. Finally he shook his head, trying in vain to persuade himself that he read…that Joey read too many comic books, and that he should hang out with him a little less.

His eyes half-closed, he reached over for Monica. After a few minutes of feeling around, however, all he could get was the bed sheets. "Mon?"

No answer came. Chandler sat up and glanced around, panic rising in his chest. It's okay, he told himself as he got out of bed, she's just getting a drink of water. Or cleaning – you know how she gets those cleaning urges in the middle of the night.

Then he heard someone unlock the front door.

Oh God. Still in his room, Chandler froze. He could do the manly thing…rush out there and pound the intruder to the ground. But, this was Chandler – it wasn't often that he chose to do the manly thing. Come on, you wuss. Monica might be in trouble.

Summoning all his courage, he looked in the closet for a blunt object. Finding the mini-vacuum Monica kept in their for "crummy emergencies," Chandler held it at the handle like a sword and began his advance.

When he emerged from the safety of his room, his jaw dropped. But not because of any darkly dressed burglar.

Monica was getting a drink, all right. In a white lab coat and the biggest wire-rimmed glasses he'd ever seen.

She almost jumped out of her skin when she noticed her fiancé standing there, holding her mini-vacuum. "Oh my God, Chandler! What are you…"

"Good morning, Dr. Geller," Chandler greeted, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Getting in from a late night surgery?"

"What?" Monica looked down at herself, as if just realizing she was wearing the jacket. "Oh, God…"

Chandler inched closer to her, on a roll. "Oh, and Ben Franklin called. He wants his bifocals back!"

"Oh my God!" Monica repeated, ripping off the glasses and the coat and throwing them on the kitchen table. She also undid the messy bun.

Chandler's eyes widened, his mouth still hanging open. "Oh my God…I was right! I can't believe it! I was actually right!"

"Right about what?" Monica's face was a mixture or curiosity and dread.

He, however, was too busy bursting into hysterical laughter. "But it couldn't be. I'm never right. You can't be Hurricane. See, what's happening here is, I'm going nuts, but you know what, it's okay. I've accepted it, you should too." Noticing that Monica wasn't joining in the hilarity, Chandler immediately sobered. "Why aren't you laughing?"

"Because it isn't funny."

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"You're…you're…you're really…" A few minutes later, they were sitting on the couch. Chandler had needed to sit down after Monica informed him that she really was Hurricane. "But…how? When, when?"

Monica put her hand in his. "Well, I've been working at the underground government facility for years…"

"Years?"

"But I've only been part of the superhero team for the past few months," Monica explained.

Chandler stared at her. "But…I've known you for years. You've had jobs…"

"Actually, all the restaurants I've worked at? Those were only a cover," Monica revealed. "Oh, I held down a real part time job, but the rest of the time, and the paycheck, was from the…other job."

Chandler indicated the lab coat and glasses on the table. "So, if you're a superhero, what's with the scientist getup?"

"That's my other identity," Monica began, keeping a wary eye on his reaction. "While I, ah, was training to be part of the facility in college, I…got my Ph.D. in psychology."

He raised an eyebrow. "So you really are a doctor?"

"Yup. Dr. Marsha Holloway." At Chandler's bewildered expression, she continued, "That's what I meant by my other identity. See, when I first started, I was young, and really paranoid that someone from the…office would try to meet me in the real world and blow my cover. I mean, not even my parents or Ross knew, so it would have been really awkward –"

"Ross doesn't know about this?" Chandler exclaimed.

Monica shook her head. "No, sweetie, and I'd really appreciate it if you didn't tell him."

"Wait…" Chandler stood, taking all of it in. "I figured you wouldn't me broadcasting this all over Manhattan, but…not even the guys?"

"No, Chandler," Monica pleaded. "No one else can know. I practically had to get on my knees and beg just to be able to tell you."

"But…Ross…" Chandler sputtered.

Monica sighed. "I'm working on being able to tell him. But I really wanted to be able to tell you. You're different than all the guys I've ever dated. I'm marrying you, Chandler. I didn't want there to be any secrets between us, especially not one as big as this."

"Yeah, thanks for not pulling a Bewitched on me," Chandler quipped.

Monica laughed, then asked, "So, you're…okay with this? I know it's a little hard to believe…"

"Oh, trust me, I wouldn't be believing you at all if…" Chandler paused, wondering if she would think he had been being paranoid. "…if I didn't already think something was going on."

Giving him a confused look, Monica inquired, "What?"

"Oh, come on, you don't think I'm that oblivious, do you?" Chandler retorted. "Okay, I am, but I did notice your increase in 'work emergencies'…what is a work emergency in a restaurant, anyway?"

Ignoring that, Monica pressed, "What else did you notice? I need to know! If you were able to figure it out…"

"Well, it was really nothing you did," Chandler reassured. "It was more like….you would leave for an emergency, and then Hurricane would be on the news. You've been acting a little weird for a while…well, weirder than usual…"

Monica lightly slapped his arm. "Shut up."

"But," Chandler continued, rubbing his arm, "What really made it click for me was the other day, when you had that 'work emergency' that had you out for hours. I mean, we were looking at Hurricane's picture in the newspaper…oh."

"What?"

Chandler grinned. "I'm just realizing something. When I made that comment that Hurricane was hot...I waited for like a day for you to say something about it. I can't believe I was attracted to you…when I didn't even know it was you."

Monica kissed him. "I love you. I'm so happy you're okay with this."

"Well, I don't know about that," Chandler admitted. "It'll take me a while to get used to the idea that my girlfriend can kill me with winds up to seventy miles an hour."

"Actually, if I concentrate, I can get it up around the 90s," Monica corrected, dead serious.

Chandler's eyes widened. "Oh my God."

"I can show you if you want," Monica offered. "Only 'cause, I know if I was telling this to Ross, he wouldn't believe me until I blew him out the window. Which I came close to doing on more than a few occasions."

"Um…all right," Chandler agreed, not really sure what he was agreeing to.

Kissing his cheek, Monica got off the couch. "Stand up." Slightly scared of his future wife, Chandler complied, and backed away a few feet. She took a deep breath, and blew.

The couch rose a few inches off the ground from the force, spinning into the kitchen and scattering the table and chairs. A stack of papers and magazine that had been on the table blew around the room, and the cabinet doors banged open.

Once the air became still again, Chandler could only stare at the chaos, his mouth hanging open. "So I guess you really have to restrain yourself when you blow out your birthday candles, huh?"

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Days later, everyone except Monica was hanging out in hers and Chandler's apartment. All were sitting in the living room watching a movie. In the easy chair, Chandler couldn't stop fidgeting. His fiancé had called earlier, saying she would be home late from work. At least, that was what she had told him to tell the guys. Her tone had made it clear that she was off on superhero duty. And he was a nervous wreck.

He simply couldn't get it out of his head that his future wife was out there kicking ass. Although, if he was being truthful, it was more that he was absolutely terrified that she would get her ass kicked.

Noting what time it was, Ross glanced over at Chandler. "Hey, when did Mon say she was coming home? She's gonna miss the movie."

"So? She wants to work late! Is that so strange? This is Monica we're talking about. Yup, nothing strange about her," Chandler rambled, his voice squeaky.

"Oh, man, not you too!" Phoebe exclaimed. "It's contagious! First Monica was all weird, now you! It's a weirdness virus and it's gonna take us all!"

Ross raised an eyebrow. "Pheebs, if it makes you feel any better, you're probably immune."

Rachel laughed, then asked, "Seriously Chandler, what's up with you two?"

"Nothing!" Chandler protested. "I think the question is, why are you so paranoid?"

"We are not paranoid," Ross argued.

"Yeah!" Joey exclaimed. "You've been acting weird for like a week! Ever since Monica had that, like, forever work emergency. Did you have a fight?"

"No, no no!" Chandler assured them. "We're fine, in fact, we're better than fine!"

"You don't seem like it," Phoebe pointed out, shifting position on the couch. She accidentally pressed a button on the remote, and the movie channel changed.

"Hey!" Joey shouted. "What are you doin', Pheebs? That was Diehard you turned off!"

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Joey, you know every word by heart."

"Yeah I do! And every word is pure gold!" Joey whined.

Phoebe was about to change it back, but stopped when she saw the news channel she had switched to. "Hey, look! There's a superhero fight going on now! And it's only a few blocks away from here! Wow!"

Chandler felt his throat parch, his face whiten, and his knees went so weak he would have fallen if he wasn't sitting down. The others didn't know it, but Monica was being attacked by numerous huge guys. "Oh, God."

"I know what you mean," Rachel nodded, with no idea what he was so shocked over. "It's amazing, isn't it? That six-year-old just threw that three-hundred-pound robber thirty feet!"

"Can we switch back to Diehard now?" Joey pleaded.

"No!" Chandler yelled. When the others stared at him, he shrugged, "Well, this is interesting."

Ross leaned in closer to the screen. "You know, Chandler, I think you're right. Hurricane does look like Monica! I mean, I know it's impossible, but the resemblance is uncanny!"

"Oh, no! They're totally different!" Chandler replied, sure that he had enough sweat in his armpits that mini-shrimp would start swimming around in them.

They watched the rest of the fight, Joey begging all the way through to change it back to Diehard. It looked like the superheroes were winning for a while. Chandler gave a silent cheer every time his fiancé gave a good punch, and cringed whenever she received one. The others remained oblivious to his inner torture, watching the news like they would an action TV show.

Then…then Volcano go the upper hand. The one-sided assault thankfully ended when the "bad guys" finished their robbery and bolted, leaving the superheroes to fly away when the cameras were trained on the villains. However, Chandler didn't breathe easy until his future wife walked through the door.

"You're home!" He leaped out of the chair and ran to give a stunned Monica a big hug.

Monica hugged him back, but not quite as hard. "Honey, it's great that you're glad to see me, but…ouch!"

"Oh, God!" Chandler jumped away, just then realizing that Monica was a mess of black and blues. "I'm so sorry! You want me to get ice, or…call 911?"

"Oh my God, Monica!" Ross leaped off the couch, the others following him. He hugged her, but made sure to be much gentler. "What happened?"

Monica stared at her friends' concerned faces. "I…I…was…mugged! Yeah, that's it. When I was coming home from work, these guys came out of no where and…"

"Wait, now did this guy have eight fingers, one eye, or both?" Phoebe asked. At the raised eyebrows directed at her, she explained, "What? I just want to make sure I'm kicking the right ass!"

"I want in on that ass-whooping too!" Ross exclaimed.

Joey nodded. "Me too!"

"Me too!" Rachel shouted. When the others looked at her, she defended, "What? I…I could scratch him or something."

Monica held up a hand, taking the ice Chandler gave her. "Guys, I appreciate it, but it's really not that big a deal."

"Monica, please!" Rachel argued. "You can barely walk!"

"I'm fine," Monica insisted, holding on to Chandler's arm as she made her way to the couch."

Ross grabbed the phone. When he saw his sister was about to protest, he ordered, "Monica, you're really hurt. You're going to the hospital."

"But…" Monica trailed off as Ross ignored her and went into the kitchen to make the call. Sighing, she turned to her fiancé. "Chandler, what am I going to do? If we go to the hospital, the police are gonna ask questions, and…I'm gonna have to send them on the trail of robbers that can shoot fire from their hands!"

Chandler put an arm around her shoulder. "Honey, you can't worry about that right now. You need to get help."

"But what about Phoebe…and Ross…and…"

"I'll try to stall the super cop wannabes over there," Chandler assured her.

Monica managed a weak laugh. "Thanks, for this and for being so…calm. I know it must not have been easy waiting for me to come home when you knew what I was doing."

"Try watching what you were doing."

Monica wrinkled her brow. "What?"

Chandler let out a breath. "Well, we were watching Diehard for the gazillionth time when Phoebe sat on the remote and changed the channel to the news."

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry you had to watch that." Monica exclaimed, putting her head on his shoulder.

"Me too. I'm gonna have nightmares for weeks."