A/N: Sorry this took so long.... again. Okay, this chapter takes place a couple weeks after the weekend at the beach.

CHAPTER SEVEN - Stand In

Phoebe smiled as she watched Joey finish the final scene of the day on his hit drama, Seeing Blue, which was about a cop, played by Joey, and his psychic twin brother, also played by Joey. Phoebe had always loved the show, although that was mostly because her best friend was the star.

The audience clapped and cheered, signaling to Phoebe that Joey was done. She stood up and they kissed. Phoebe felt shivers run up and down her back. It had been less than a month since their trip to the beach, and still her and Joey's love was new and yet so comfortable. Tonight, they were going out for a romantic dinner in the suburbs, and Phoebe suspected he would give her the ring tonight.

She could still hardly believe they were getting married. When Phoebe had given her two week's notice at her job three weeks before, telling her coworkers she was moving to Los Angeles to be with the man she was going to marry, they'd called her crazy. "How can you just up and leave your whole life to move across the country for a guy you haven't seen in five years? And a TV star, no less!" her good friend Suzanne had cried. "How will you know what he's doing behind your back? Haven't you ever heard of groupies, Phoebe?"

But Joey wasn't like that, Phoebe argued. And he wasn't. Phoebe knew by the way he kissed her and looked at her and smiled, like she was the only person in he room, the way they made love so tenderly. And so Phoebe quit her job, packed up her things, and flew to L.A. She didn't have a house or a job, she realized, but that was really a moot point. Joey was rich - he had a gigantic house in Malibu and she moved in there. He offered her all the money she needed, but she'd made a good living in Indiana and didn't need it - yet, anyway.

That night, the two enjoyed themselves thoroughly at the small, expensive restaurant on the Palos Verdes Peninsula. It was secluded and quiet, and devoid of fans coming up to Joey - it was perfect. Still, Phoebe sighed as they got into Joey's chauffeured BMW. No ring in sight. It wasn't that she cared so much about the ring, it was what the ring symbolized - that it was really real, that he wasn't stringing her along. That she wasn't going to be Joey's arm candy - delicious arm candy, but arm candy all the same.

They arrived back home and got out of the car. Phoebe started for the house, but Joey took her hand and led her to the backyard, which was on the edge of a cliff, facing the beautiful Pacific Ocean.

"What are we doing?" Phoebe said. Joey didn't say anything. As they walked into the yard, Phoebe gasped.

Candles surrounded the patio, adding a romantic, dim light to the yard. Vases filled with hundreds of roses had been placed on the benches and tables, filling the air with the slight scent of petals. Phoebe's eyes grew wide as she took all of this in, and instantly she knew what was going on.

Joey led Phoebe to the center of the cement patio and then got down on one knee.

"I don't really know how to do this," he said awkwardly. "All I know is that I love you. Phoebe Buffay, will you marry me?" He pulled a ring box out of his jacket to reveal the most gorgeous diamond she'd ever seen. But at that moment, Phoebe forgot the rock.

"I will," she said. Joey sighed in relief. "What, were you expecting me to say no?" she joked. Smiling, Joey slipped the ring on Phoebe's finger and then stood up, cupping her face in his hands and kissing her.

This, Phoebe knew, was how her life was supposed to turn out. This was her fairy tale, her dream come true - where she was supposed to be.

Monica came home from a job interview one Sunday to find Chandler and Cassie sprawled out on he couch, asleep. Over the past few weeks, they'd grown very close, and their similarities had become startlingly obvious. Every day, Monica noticed something else. The other day, for example, when she announced she might not continue cooking, they gave her almost the exact same look of disbelief.

"Mom!" Cassie had cried. She was a very vocal, very smart little eight year old, and she immediately argued. "But you love cooking! And you're so great at it!"

"The girl knows what she's talking about, Mon," Chandler agreed. "Why don't you want to be a chef anymore?"

"It's the money," Monica explained. "There are just not that many good jobs for chefs anymore." She didn't explain anymore, and no matter how much Cassie and Chandler pressed, she refused to say more.

On this particular Saturday, Monica almost laughed as she looked at her daughter and Chandler. Cassie had her arm thrown across Chandler's chest, his arms closed gently around her. The three of them had stayed up late watching TV the night before, despite Monica's wishes that Cassie went to bed early. She walked over to the couch and kissed first Cassie, then Chandler.

She and Cassie had moved in with Chandler almost a month ago, and it had been a month and a half since the beach, but Monica and Chandler weren't acting on the spark they'd felt before. It was still there, strong and clear as before, but with the stress of jobs, moving, and Cassie weighing down on them, there was no time for the simple romance they both longed for. Therefore, they individually and mutually, silently, agreed that until things settled down, this was how it would stay.

Chandler stirred as she moved her lips away from his cheek. He smiled before he even opened his eyes. When he saw her, he whispered, "Hey."

"Hey, sleepyhead," she teased. He shook his head lightly and moved his arms away from Cassie, rubbing his eyes. "Can I talk to you?"

"Sure," he said.

"We can leave her here," Monica said, and so Chandler gently rose from the couch and followed Monica into the bedroom that had become hers and Cassie's. Monica had unpacked most of their stuff in an effort to make the room homier for Cassie, but boxes still cluttered the corners of the room. Chandler shut the door behind him, and they stood awkwardly in the room for a few seconds. Finally, Monica spoke. She was ready, she'd decided over the past few days, ready to have it, to say it, to do it. She prayed Chandler was too.

"I want to know if there's any possibility of us getting together. For real."

"I - do you want there to be?" Chandler asked quietly, his soft blue eyes staring straight into hers. "An us, I mean."

"Yes," Monica said. She took a small, tentative step toward him.

"Are you sure?"

"Why wouldn't I be sure?" she asked, on the defensive.

"I mean... I don't want to be your stand-in husband and father," Chandler replied uncomfortably, and Monica knew what else he had the tact not to say. Your stand-in lover. Because despite the physical, emotional energy they shared, Chandler still had hurt inside him from the way Monica had used him and then left him, disposed of him as if he was a one-time use paper towel, used only to dry the tears she had drowned in that night. He was still cautious of letting her in, of giving her his love. And in this he was, Monica knew, rightfully so. Monica had been an idiot back then - confused about her role in life, about Chandler's and Danny's, making wrong decisions and stupid mistakes wherever she went. There were so many things she would have changed if she'd had the chance.

"I can't change the past," she said. "And I'm sorry for it. But this is now. And now I know what I want." She stepped closer to him again. "And what I want is you. To try us." She imagined how fantastic that would be - to fall back in love with her best friend, with the father of her child. To right the wrongs of her past.

"I want that too," Chandler said, his voice becoming deep. They were close now, their breath warming each other. They kissed, gently, then wrapping their arms around each other and holding on tightly. "I don't want to lose you ever again," he said when they came up for air.

"Don't worry," she said, smiling.

A/N: There's only one more chapter after this, but it's really long. Hope you liked this chapter.