Chandler kept his hands resolutely over his eyes. 'I'm going to count down from three and you had better be ready. Okay?'
There was a faint scratching sound.
'Okay. Three, two, one.' Chandler dropped his hands, opened his eyes. His shoulders sagged. 'Once again you are failing to grasp the concept of hide-and-seek.'
Yasmine puffed up her feathers, shook herself, pecked benignly at the carpet. The duck was asleep. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, Chandler regarded the birds bitterly and shook his head. 'You know, we've been doing this so long I'd have thought you guys would be used to it by now.'
A cluck in response, and the frantic beating of flightless wings. That done, Yasmine wandered in the direction of Joey's room.
'Oh, now you go hide. You know that I can see you, right?' A knock at the door. 'Oh, don't worry, I'll get it.'
Chandler scrambled up, jogged lightly across, opened the door and felt his good mood evaporate. 'He-ey. Hey, Ross.'
'Hi.' Doleful.
Oh God, not doleful Ross. Please not doleful Ross. I can't take Ross being ... doleful. I am so not winning the Friend Of The Year award.
Chandler plastered on a grin. It made his face hurt. 'Hey, buddy. You, uh, you want to come in?'
Ross sighed heavily, moved into the apartment, sank into one of the Barcaloungers and stayed there, unmoving, looking crumpled. He sighed again. 'Joey here?'
'Nope. Nobody here but us chickens.'
From the bedroom, Yasmine let out a strangulated crow. Ross nodded.
'You want a beer?'
'Yeah, I guess.'
'All righty. Coming right up, yes indeedio.' It was fortunate, he thought on reflection, that Ross was too steeped in misery to notice that his friend was one garbled sentence away from a nervous breakdown. Chandler retrieved the beers, opened the bottles, passed one to Ross, took a long pull from his own and reluctantly lowered himself into his chair. It had never felt so uncomfortable. Lumpy. He was sticking to the leather. He'd be writing a strongly worded letter to Sit magazine about this.
Ross took a small sip from his beer, held the bottle between his hands; he gave up a small, sad smile. 'I haven't seen you around much lately.'
'Yeah, well, it's been, y'know, busy, with ... stuff. And, uh, work and ... stuff.' Chandler cleared his throat, took another pull on his beer. He thought longingly of the emergency pack of cigarettes taped to the back of the cistern. 'So, uh, how are things with you?'
'Oh...'
Don't mention Rachel. Please, in the name of all that is pure and holy, please do not talk about Rachel.
'You know Rachel's dating some married guy?'
Chandler's shoulders sagged, resigned. 'Yeah, I heard that.'
'I can't' -Ross shook his head- 'I can't believe that. I mean, who is this guy anyway?'
'Uh...' Chandler opted for bafflement, spreading his hands.
'And you know what? Monica said this is the happiest she's ever seen her.'
Despite himself, despite all - or even any - of his finer feelings, despite the guilt and the self-loathing now multiplied in the face of Ross' unhappiness, Chandler felt the rising swell of triumph.
Another shake of the head, bafflement now written across Ross' features. 'I just don't get it. It sounds like this is something really serious, and- How can she be happy with someone like that? I mean, the guy has a wife.'
'They're separated; they're divorcing,' he said, speaking as Josh- no, Joshua would. 'Y'know, it's like they're on a break.' Ross' head snapped up. And he was back to speaking as Chandler would.
'Dude, that's not funny.'
Chandler held up his hands. He slid back into the embrace of his Barcalounger, still strangely aware of all of its sudden flaws and watched Ross carefully. 'Look, if Rachel can be happy with ... this ... other guy... Isn't that a good thing? I mean, you want her to be happy, right?'
Ross studied the bottle in his hands, picked at the edge of the label. 'Yeah... Yeah, I guess. I just...'
Don't say it. Not that.
'I guess I just figured somewhere down the line she'd still end up being happy with me.'
And there it was, Chandler thought miserably; there it was.
ooOoo
Monica poured out the Margaritas, sat back on the sofa. 'We haven't done this in a long time.'
'Hung out on the sofa?'
She rolled her eyes good-naturedly at Rachel. 'No. I mean this.' She gestured at the detritus of their girls' night in. 'Just the three of us, swapping secrets, cocktails-'
'Phoebe's drinking orange juice.'
'I know, but it's still fun.'
Rachel smiled in return; Monica's enthusiasm was infectious and irresistible. And a long evening of gossiping was always a good time, even if most most of Phoebe's gossip danced on the edge of disturbing. Rachel took a sip of her drink, sighed in contentment, drowsy. She felt herself sinking into the sofa cushions. 'So...' So relaxed she could barely get the words out. 'So, what about this guy at work?'
'Oh... Oh, y'know... I dunno.' Monica, coy. She'd be half-ducking her head, studying the rug. Rachel smiled to herself.
'He's cute, though - right?'
'Oh, yeah, I mean, he's okay. I guess. If you like cute.' Monica sighed. 'He is cute. He tells jokes. A lot. He makes me laugh. He... He sort of reminds me of Chandler. That's weird, right? That would be weird.'
'Mm. Not if he's as good a kisser as Chandler.'
She heard the words again, echoing in her head after she had said them. Her eyes snapped open and she found Monica staring at her.
'What?'
'Huh?'
Monica's mouth worked, wordless. 'You kissed Chandler?'
'I-'
'Wha- When?'
Her mind stuttered over her apartment, his apartment, the back seat of a taxi cab, a hotel room, a restaurant-
'R-remember when we visited Ross at college? Hey, remember that guy who kissed you in Ross' dorm room?'
Monica's face softened, her eyes sliding past Rachel. 'My Midnight Mystery Kisser. Wow, I haven't thought about him in a long time.'
'Yeah,' Rachel leant forward, fascinated. Apparently. 'Did you ever find out who that was?'
'No... But, y'know, sometimes I think... It's silly.'
'What?'
She shrugged, awkward. 'Sometimes I think he was my first kiss for a reason. Y'know, one day I'll meet a guy and we'll kiss and it will be ... him ... and-and it will be like it's have meant to be.'
Rachel took hold of her hand. 'Oh, sweetie.'
'I told you it was silly.'
'No.' She shook her head. 'No, it isn't.'
'Anyway, what about you and Chandler?'
Rachel let go of her hand.
'It wasn't anything. It was while we were dancing and then he came up to me and we got talking and then I went to get another drink and then we made out a little. A very little. Tiny, you'd hardly even notice.'
Monica blew out a breath. 'How come you never told me? You told me everything.'
'I...' She forced a smile. 'I was pretty drunk; I mean, I didn't even remember it had happened for a long time, but, well, I see Chandler every day so I was going to remember it sometime, right?'
'Uh-huh.' Monica drank down a healthy portion of her Margarita. 'I still can't believe it... You and Chandler, that's wild.'
'Oh great, you told her!' Phoebe, emerging from the bathroom, beamed at them happily. 'Now enough of us know that you can tell Ross - you guys can just be like a regular couple. Oh, yay!' She clapped her hands.
'What?'
'What?'
'Phoebe!'
'Oh no.' The blonde sank into the armchair, avoiding Rachel's furious eyes.
Rachel turned her glare from Phoebe to Monica and met a curiously blank expression.
'I-'
'You and Chandler?'
'I- Yes.'
'I can't believe this.'
'I know. I know, sweetie, I have wanted to tell you about this for so long, but-'
'I can't believe this - you do this every time!'
Rachel stared at her. 'What?'
'Every guy, every guy, you just have to have him, don't you?'
'Wh- what are you talking about?'
'Oh, please! It was the same in high-school. Every guy I liked you had to have-'
'Wait a minute, since when did you like Chandler?'
'Guys-' Phoebe, quiet, tense.
'-And now you're doing it again!'
'This has nothing to do with you!'
Monica's eyes wandered over her, scathing. 'You can't stand anyone showing an interest in me, can you?'
'Hey, you guys-'
Rachel tossed the hair away from her shoulders. 'Chandler interested in you- Are you talking about that weekend at the beach?'
'Yeah, that. And other things.'
'You spent the whole time turning him down!'
'That's not the point!'
'Oh, isn't it? Or is it that you don't want him but you don't want anyone else to have him? Well, here's the newsflash: I do. I want him. And I've got him and you- You'll just have to get used to that.'
Rachel stood, started towards her door, caught her shin against the corner of the coffee-table, reached her bedroom, slammed the door shut. She leant against it, shaking, her throat tightening. She closed her eyes against the prickling behind them.
ooOoo
Chandler sat and listened while Ross talked. About how he wanted to be happy for Rachel, but just couldn't. About how he wanted to wish her well, but somehow her misery without him would be preferable (admittedly, he didn't actually say that but it was there beneath the words). About how moving on was so hard for him.
And Chandler listened, and nodded, and drank his beer. And he remembered the endless nights in college and the whirring hum of Ross' humidifier and layered over that his talks about Rachel: dissecting her, every word, every look, every gesture. The night he had flicked on the lights again and finally shown Chandler a picture of this goddess. He remembered blinking, blearily, screwing up his eyes against the sudden bright assault and squinting at the slightly out-of-focus photograph of a pretty girl with a noticeable nose and a bored expression.
He remembered meeting her for the first time, seeing her again when she had gone with Monica to visit Ross. Then, years later, at the bar when he had hoped to be her final meaningless fling. Then she had walked back into their lives in a tragic trail of wet silk and lace and she had been his friend. She had been his friend. Then she had been the girl curled in his Barcalounger, kissing him with an undisguised need that still astonished him. He remembered her wrapped in his plaid dressing gown eating cereal first thing in the morning, sitting cross-legged on his bed. He remembered every pore of her skin, the feel and the scent and the taste of her.
And Ross talked on, and he withered inside.
ooOoo
The first knock at the door was ignored. Rachel stared at the lines of the book she wasn't reading. There was a second knock, then the handle turned and the door opened.
Monica, she thought without emotion, had disabled the lock again.
The dark head appeared around the door, peered at her anxiously. 'Hey.'
'Hey.'
The rest of Monica eased around it, holding a plate in both hands. 'I baked some cookies.'
'Uh-huh. They-they, uh, smell good.'
'Can I come in?'
Rachel raised her shoulders, let them fall. 'Sure. Where's Phoebe?'
'She went home.' Monica placed the plate on the dresser, sat on the edge of Rachel's bed. 'I am so sorry.'
Rachel felt the prickle behind her eyes again, and the tension on her nerves begin to ease. 'Mon, it's-'
'No.' Monica shook her head. 'I reacted horribly and- And I have no excuse. This is such a huge thing and-and I am just so sorry.'
Rachel swivelled, took Monica's hands between hers. 'Sweetie, if I thought for a moment that you had feelings for Chandler-'
'I don't. It was- It wasn't anything.' Monica's blue eyes were clear and steady. She shrugged. 'I guess I've just sort of got used to being the one that he flirted with. And... And I guess I still sort of liked the idea of you as my sister-in-law.'
'Oh...'
The two girls held each other. When they parted Monica smoothed down her hair and flashed Rachel a swift smile. 'Would you like a cookie?'
'Yeah, I really would.'
She stood, picked up the plate, held it uncertainly.
'You know what? I can eat those over the sink.'
Monica's face was luminous with relief. 'Oh, you don't have to do that - you can eat them at the table.'
At the table, careful with the crumbs and with glasses of milk, Monica watched Rachel curiously. 'So...'
Rachel looked at her.
'You and Chandler?'
She let out a breath. 'Yeah. Me and Chandler.'
'Is he ... romantic ... with you?'
She told her about the Hermes scarf. About the Four Seasons and the dancing and the skating at the Rockerfeller Centre.
'Chandler? Our Chandler?'
Rachel smiled. 'The one and only.'
'Huh.' Monica broke her cookie between her fingers, dunked one of the pieces in her glass. 'Rach... You're going to have to tell Ross.'
'I know.'
'You're my best friend and I love you; but he's my brother - I can't lie to him. Not even for you.'
She sighed. 'I know. We just... It's been going really well and we didn't want to tell anyone and get it all messed up. And-and there was always the thing that if it all went wrong no-one would ever have to know but us. And...'
'And?'
Rachel took a breath, held it. 'And if Ross knew that would be it for him and me. Sooner or later I'm going to have to make that choice.'
'Sweetie, it sounds like you've already chosen.'
She nodded. 'I know.'
ooOoo
The cellophane crinkled between his fingers. He played with it for a moment, enjoying the ritual of it, before screwing it up and tossing it into the bin. Chandler shook out one of the cigarettes, placed it between his lips, pulled himself up onto the windowsill, leaning almost halfway out, lit the cigarette and pulled the smoke into his lungs.
He watched the long plume flow from his lips, dissipated by the fine drizzle falling, a dreary sheet against the night. His head was getting wet. He deserved to have his head get wet. He pulled in another breath, hard, the smoke searing his throat, burning deeper down. His eyes watered and he blinked hard. Coughed slightly. It wasn't enough; this self-punishment wasn't enough.
'Thanks, man.' Ross, resting his hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently and smiling, sad but grateful. And Chandler had smiled his Judas smile.
He'd always been the nice guy, the good guy. He wasn't the guy who screwed over his friends; hell, he wasn't even the guy who screwed over his enemies. Did he have enemies? Don't go down that road. He was a nice guy, not perfect, but nice. Not perfect, but Rachel thought he was - or maybe she had just made him that way.
Would his leaving her break her heart the way it would his? He'd be the guy wandering around a sports stadium crying that it used to their place and sobbing into his popcorn. That's what he deserved. Because Ross was his best friend and Chandler was still the nice guy and he would end it, it would be over. He didn't really need a heart anyway.
Chandler tossed the cigarette, pulled himself back inside, spent five minutes pacing the floor, then crossed the hall, knocked once on the door and opened it.
Monica and Rachel stared up at him from the kitchen table.
'Hey, uh- Hey.'
Monica pressed her lips together, glanced at Rachel, then smiled brightly. 'Hey. And I have... I have laundry to do.' She stood, grabbed the basket that appeared to have three socks and a sweatshirt in it and headed towards the door. She bumped her shoulder gently against his, then pulled back, her nose wrinkling.
'You might want to stay downwind of Smokey Smokerson,' she told Rachel over her shoulder. 'I, uh, I'll leave you guys to talk.'
The door closed. Chandler stood for a moment, frowning; his feet started to move without his permission, gravitating towards Rachel. 'That was weird, even for Monica, oh my God she knows!'
'Yes.'
Also without his permission his legs buckled, depositing him on the chair next to her. 'Wh- What? Why? How?'
Rachel held her head in her hands then looked up at him. Her eyes looked suspiciously moist, pink-rimmed. 'It just sort of slipped out.'
'Slipped?' He stared at her. 'Slipped? How-how-how-how?'
'It just-' She waved her hands, shook her head. 'It doesn't matter.'
'Doesn't matter?' His voice, he was quite sure, never used to be that high-pitched.
'Chandler...'
'Okay. It's okay. Everything's okay...' Her eyes were still moist. Chandler took hold of her hand. 'Oh God, everything's okay isn't it?'
She held onto him. 'Yeah. Monica freaked out a bit but, y'know, that's Monica; but she's fine now. She's happy for us. But-but we have to tell Ross.'
'Yeah.' His free hand ran through still-damp hair. 'He came by.'
Rachel's head jerked.
'He's pretty broken-up over you and "Joshua".'
'Oh God...'
'Rach, I have never felt so bad over anything in my life. I sat there and listened while he told me how miserable he is and then he thanked me for being a good friend.'
Her fingers laced through his. 'And then you came over here to break up with me.'
'I- Yeah.'
She smiled, sweet and sad. 'Guess it's a good thing I told Monica, then. 'Cos he's going to find out anyway.'
Silent for a moment, then Chandler nodded. 'I'll tell him.'
She bit down on her lip, holding it between her teeth.'Chandler, I-'
'No. I should be the one to do it. I owe him that, I guess.'
Rachel couldn't quite hide the relief on her face. 'But not tonight? Tell him tomorrow?'
He cupped her face in his hand. 'Tomorrow.'
