"… so Phoebe was telling me that there's absolutely no way she's going along with this marriage thing," Rachel was saying, leaning against the counter of the Moondance Diner as she ate her lunch. "So I don't know what she's going to do. I think it's weird, but if it's true love, you know, what are ya gonna do? They're both adults – in the eyes of the law, anyway. There isn't much she can do at this point, right?"

Monica rubbed her hand over her eyes and nodded wearily. "Um, yeah," she mumbled, even though she hadn't really been listening.

Rachel stopped chewing, realizing for the first time that she'd pretty much been talking to herself. "Monica, what is the matter with you lately?" she demanded, not unkindly. "You've been so spaced out. Are you okay?"

Monica straightened up, giving her a look. "I'm fine," she said. "Just tired."

Rachel frowned. "How can you be tired? You've started taking mid- afternoon naps. Honey, I think you might be sick or something. Have you gone to see the doctor?"

"No," Monica said firmly. "Rach, I'm fine. I'm just… its cabin fever or something, I don't know. I'm sure I'll be back to normal in a few days."

"Okay…" Rachel said doubtfully.

The man on the stool next to her cleared his throat. "Hey, Monica, can I get another soda?"

Monica glanced up, giving him a smile. "Sure, Pete," she said. "What'd you have? Diet Coke, right?"

"Right." Pete watched her carefully as she turned and filled his glass again. "You know, your friend is right. You don't look so hot."

She set the glass down in front of him with a disbelieving look. "Well, thanks," she said. "Tell me how you really feel."

Pete looked apologetic. "I just mean, you haven't been yourself for the past few days," he said.

Rachel pointed her pickle at him and nodded. "I don't know who he is, Mon, but he's absolutely right," she said succinctly.

He smiled. "Pete Becker," he said, offering his hand for a shake, which she took gamely.

"I'm Rachel Green, Monica's roommate."

"Nice to meet you, Rachel."

Monica raised her eyebrows at them. "Well, now that you're officially introduced, maybe you'll find something better to talk about than my health, huh?"

"I'm going to make you see a doctor in a few days if you aren't back to normal," Rachel replied, raising her eyebrows right back.

"She's my roommate and my keeper," Monica explained to Pete, who smiled wryly.

"I'm serious, Mon."

"Okay, Rach. Fine. But I promise you, I won't be needing any trips to the doctor's office, alright?" Monica noticed the light above the counter blinking. "Now in the meantime, if you'll excuse me, I've got a job to do. Order up," she called, and officially ended the conversation.

---

The phone was ringing as Chandler let himself into the apartment after work, and he tossed his keys onto the counter and grabbed it.

"Hello?"

"Hey, man," Joey's voice filtered down the line. "You just get in?"

"Yeah, just now." Chandler leaned against the counter. "What's up?"

"I'm not going to be able to make dinner tonight, so can you tell Mon? I got a call back for this audition."

"Hey, the commercial? That's great."

"Thanks. Yeah, anyway I should be back kinda late, so just tell Mon to save me something."

Chandler glanced toward the door, closing his eyes briefly. "Sure," he said. "Sure, no problem. Good luck, Joe."

"I'll need it. See ya."

He hung up, and Chandler slowly put the phone down, casting another long look in the direction of Monica and Rachel's apartment. His shoulders slumped, and he sighed heavily.

It had been nearly three weeks since The Night. He'd come to think of it in capital letters, since it was probably one of the most monumentally stupid things he'd ever done – and that was saying something.

Things had been awkward ever since – to say the least. Monica avoided him now, and he found himself hanging out in her apartment less and less. They weren't all-out ignoring each other, but things were definitely strained between them, and quite frankly… it sucked.

He missed her. He missed having her as his friend.

Every time he'd thought about going next door and talking to her about this privately – just clearing the air, and trying to put it behind them – he lost his nerve. But now Joey had given him the perfect excuse to go talk to her.


"Now or never, man," he muttered, squaring his shoulders and marching across the hall, giving only a cursory knock on the door before walking inside her apartment.

At first glance it seemed to be empty, but then he noticed her bedroom door was ajar, and there was soft music coming from inside. He stared nervously toward her room, then made himself walk forward.

"Mon?" he called, then cleared his throat and said more loudly, "Monica? You here?"

After a moment, the radio snapped off, and she appeared in the doorway. She was wearing sweat pants and a t-shirt, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. She looked tired.

Her eyes were wide – she was just as surprised as he was that he'd actually come over. "Uh, hi," she said slowly. "What's up?"

"I came over to… give you a message. From Joey. He can't make it to dinner tonight."

"Oh." She nodded slowly, still staring at him. As he met her eyes, she flushed and abruptly looked away. "Well, okay, I'll be sure to… save him some."

He looked at her for a long moment, then sighed and abruptly raked a hand through his hair. "Monica…" he began, frustrated.

"I don't want to talk about this," she warned in a low voice, looking back up at him.

"I know. You've been avoiding me for days. You really think I want to talk about it either? Look, it doesn't matter, Mon, because we have to. This isn't… this isn't how I want things to be, with you and me. You're my friend. I miss you."

Her eyes filled with tears, but she brushed them away impatiently. "I know. I do, too. But we can't go back."

"Why not?" he asked, his voice rising. "It was just a mistake. You said that yourself. So we'll put it behind us and we'll move on."


She was shaking her head. "But it did happen," she said. "We crossed the line, Chandler. And… I can't look at you, or be around you anymore, without thinking about it."

He flinched. "Monica, come on," he said, hating the pleading note in his voice. "It was just one night. It was just sex. I'm sorry that it happened, and if I could take it back, if I could go back and change it god knows I would, but there's nothing I can do about that. It's over and it's done. Why are you being like this?" A thought occurred to him suddenly, and he looked up at her in shock. "Do you blame me?"

When she didn't say anything right away, looking away over his shoulder someplace, he inhaled sharply and took a step back. "You do," he realized, stunned. "You blame me for what happened."

"No… I…" She shook her head slowly, looking suddenly exhausted as she leaned against the doorframe. "It takes two," she said finally. "We were both there that night. I blame you as much as myself."

"Then why… why are you being like this? Why won't you talk to me about it?"

She was quiet for a long moment, staring at the ground and moving her foot back and forth along the floor. When she finally spoke, her voice was so soft he barely heard. "I'm late."

"What?" he asked, not understanding.

"I'm late, Chandler. My period is late."

---

To be continued shortly… thanks for the reviews!