A/N: Happy Thanksgiving! Again, thank you for reading and reviewing this story! This chapter was the hardest thing I've written - I actually had to stop halfway through because I was crying! I am such a baby, lol. But don't worry, it's not all sad. So here you go, the final chapter of "Tell Me What's Wrong."

Disclaimer: I don't own them... I mean, who would get up ehre and say they did? Marta Kauffman isn't going to write a story and post it here.

EPILOGUE - Can't Say Good-bye

Those last months were bittersweet for Chandler and Monica. For three months, Monica was in and out of the hospital. She was usually sick, sometimes only recovering from a bout for three or four days before becoming ill again.

After a while, everyone was just waiting for the day to come. They all loved Monica so much, but she was in so much pain. All but Chandler began to admit to themselves that, after the doctors announced there was nothing they could do, it would be better for Monica to die peacefully.

For the last week, Chandler spent every moment at her bedside. Monica slept most of the time, but when she was awake, they talked about the good times, looked at pictures, laughed and cried and held each other. One day Monica brought something up that Chandler hadn't expected.

He had been dozing in the chair, thinking Monica was asleep. He sat up, startled, when he heard her say, "Chandler."

"Yes, sweetheart," Chandler said.

"I want to talk to you about something." Her voice was flat and thin, as it usually was now.

"Anything, babes."

"I just want you to know, that after I'm gone, I want you to move on," Monica said. She swallowed hard, like it was difficult to speak.

"What do you mean?"

"I want you to fall in love again," Monica explained.

"We don't need to talk about this," Chandler said quickly.

"Yes, we do. I want you to be happy. I love you so much, I just want you to be as happy as you can. Date again as soon as you want to. Have sex. Fall in love. Get - get married."

"No," Chandler said. "You know you are the only woman I will ever love."

"I don't want you to be sad forever," Monica cried, becoming emotional. "I want you to be happy. Can you promise me you will try to be happy?"

"I can try," Chandler whispered. "But I can't promise you anything. You are my life. My whole entire life."

"I don't want to be your whole life forever," Monica said. "I'm dying. I just want you to know that if you want to get married again, I want you to. Don't ever feel guilty. Don't think I'm angry with you for being with another woman, because I'm not. Do you understand that?"

"Yes," Chandler said. He lowered his lips to his wife's. "I love, you, Monica. I will love you forever."

"I love you too,'' Monica said.

They took her off the respirator six days later.

She was awake to see them all one last time. One by one, she called Ross, Rachel, Phoebe, Joey, and her parents in to say good-bye. Every single person came out sobbing. Rachel was crying so hard that she almost passed out.

Then it was Chandler's turn. He steeled himself, trying to prepare for what was sure to be the most horrible moment of his life. "Hi, baby," he said as he walked in.

Monica smiled, wiping some tears from her eyes. "Hi." He sat down next to her, taking her hand. They stared into each other's eyes for a moment.

"I love you," Chandler said finally. "You know that I will always love you. Forever."

"I love you too," Monica said. "I wish we could be together forever. I wish things were different."

"I know," Chandler said, beginning to cry. "Oh my God, Monica, I can't... I can't say good-bye. I can't, I can't... it hurts too much." He broke off, unable to say any more for tears.

"So don't," Monica said, also sobbing. "Just know that I love you. I have never loved anyone as much as I love you. And I'll see you again. I promise you I will. We'll be together forever. I'm always here," she put his hand, under hers, to his heart, and then kissed him. "I'll be with you forever."

They were all together when Monica took her last breath. "Good bye," she whispered, her voice hoarse, her eyes fluttering shut. "I love you."

"She's gone," Chandler murmured, staring blankly at Monica's pale face.

"No!" Rachel cried, falling hysterically into Ross's arms. Mr. Geller led his wife out, and the rest stood there, staring at Monica, sobbing. Chandler continued to hold her hand, raising it at intervals to kiss it. He could not comprehend that Monica was gone.

He stayed with her body for hours, crying and screaming and at times just sitting, staring at the face that had for years been the face of the woman he loved. Finally, they made him leave.

Her funeral was beautiful and bright, just as Monica herself had been. It was perfect. Just as he had felt at the hospital, Chandler could not tear himself away from his wife's open casket. He leaned down to kiss her deathly pale cheek one last time, and then he left, wishing at that moment that he was the one in the coffin.

For awhile, Chandler thought he could not go on without Monica. He barely ate, didn't sleep. He would spend hours in their apartment, looking at pictures, going through her things, smelling her clothes. Slowly, he began to distribute some of her things between he group.

Slowly, over the course of many, many, months, he began the recovery process. He thought about Monica every day, dreamt about her, talked to her and wrote letters to her. The one-sided conversations he had with he were pathetic and painful, but he couldn't stop them. He knew, somehow, that she was watching him, listening to him speak, answering him even if he couldn't hear her. He'd never really known if he'd believed in heaven until now, and now, he knew he did. Monica was with him wherever he went.

And he was not the only one grieving enormously. Chandler had perhaps lost the worst thing - a wife. Ross, and similarly, Rachel, just about, had lost a sister, Joey a mentor, Phoebe a confidant. All had lost a best friend, and that is something you never recover from - never forget. The five felt incomplete, like they were missing something, and they were - Monica. One sixth of one whole. She was gone.

But they spoke about her as much as possible. For a while, they avoided even saying her name in front of Chandler, but before long, they realized he yearned to keep her memory alive. And so they did.

"My wife was beautiful. Not just physically beautiful - although she was. Boy, she was." A few people chuckled. "But inside, too. She was kind and good-hearted. She helped me and the rest of our friends through the roughest times in our lives. She supported us and cheered us on through loves and successes, and cried with us when a relationship flopped or a job fell through." Here, Joey smiled.

"But she was robbed of her beauty and her life. She and thousands of other women die every year from breast cancer. Breast cancer is not selective, and it does not choose it's victims based on age or race or life experiences. Your wife or sister or mother could be next. But there is something we can do, and that is why we are here today. To fight a disease that we must beat before we lose another young, vibrant woman just beginning her life."

Chandler paused, looking away from the crowd in the banquet room and at the large picture of Monica at twenty nine. He blinked rapidly and held up his glass. "To Monica."

"To Monica," the 100-plus group murmured. And to Monica, they drank.

It was the first Monica Geller-Bing Breast Cancer Foundation Banquet. After Monica's death, Chandler struggled with the thought that something could have been done for her. When he came to terms with the idea that there couldn't have been anything, that technology wasn't yet advanced enough, he was devastated.

But then, one day not even six months after Monica's death, Chandler was going into the grocery store when his eye was caught by a large pink ribbon on a sign in front.

"Breast Cancer foundation," he thought. He walked by it, overcome by thoughts of Monica. While he was in the grocery store, he was thinking, and then, it hit him. There was nothing he could do for Monica. But there was something he could do for future victims of breast cancer.

On his way out, he stopped in front of the booth. "I'd like to make a donation," he said, pulling out his chequebook. The woman smiled as he scribbled in it. "This is for my wife. Monica," he said, folding the cheque and handing it to the woman.

"Oh, is she battling it?" she said sympathetically. Chandler knew what she was thinking. He's so young, how sad to have a sick wife.

"No," Chandler said, shaking his head. "No. She died six months ago."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," the woman said. "But thank you." Chandler nodded, and left, pushing his cart. A few seconds later, the woman came scurrying after him. "Sir! Sir!" She breathlessly arrived next to him. "That was - very, very generous of you. We are very grateful."

Chandler just nodded and smiled again at the look on the woman's face.

He had written her a five thousand dollar cheque.

But Chandler didn't stop there. The next day, he heard about the family of a victim of drunk-driving who had a charity auction for MADD. And it gave him an idea. He immediately called up Ross and Rachel. The two were dating again after falling into each other's arms, literally and figuratively, after Monica's death.

"I want to have a banquet to raise money for breast cancer," he explained. "To help other people - Rach and Pheebs, and if you guys ever have daughters - I want to have the technology to help them like we couldn't help Monica."

It was a fantastic idea, and four months later, on what would have been Monica's thirty-third birthday, they had it. The first banquet raised almost thirty thousand dollars.

It was a success. That first, difficult year was made easier for Chandler by the thought that he was helping someone, even if it was just one woman, one family - they were helping.

And Chandler knew that Monica knew.

Eight years later...

Chandler remarried seven years after Monica died. His new wife, a thirty-seven year old woman named Savannah, was kind and gentle and loud, and for a while, the other five were afraid Chandler was trying to replace Monica.

But he wasn't. Savannah was wonderful, but she wasn't Monica. Chandler loved her anyway. They were almost as good for each other as Chandler and Monica had been.

Before proposing to Savannah, Chandler went to Ross. "I'm going to ask Savannah to marry me. I just want to make sure that's okay with you."

"Chandler, you didn't have to ask me. I am so happy for you," Ross said. He hadn't seen Chandler as happy as he'd been with Savannah since Monica had been alive, and Ross knew that Monica wanted, and that he wanted, Chandler to be happy.

So Chandler married Savannah, and they were happy. Savannah became pregnant two years after they got married. One night, when Savannah was six months pregnant, she was awoken, by Chandler crying softly in bed.

"Honey, what's the matter?" she asked, concerned.

"Nothing. Just go back to sleep."

"No, sweetie, tell me. What's wrong?"

Chandler sat up, trying to be manly and wipe his eyes. "Nothing. It's just - it's our anniversary. Mine and Monica's, I mean. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, baby," Savannah said, hugging Chandler. "It's okay to cry."

"You know I love you so much, Van," Chandler whispered.

"I know."

"It's just, Monica..."

"Monica was your first love," Savannah said. "I know. And it's okay." Savannah never minded when Chandler talked about Monica, made references to his former wife, got together with his brother- and parents-in-law. That was the wonderful thing about Savannah. Chandler hadn't been her first love either, and she wasn't afraid to say that. And Savannah had lost a brother suddenly when she was young, so she knew the long-term pain that came with the death of a loved one.

So she comforted Chandler. She celebrated Monica's birthday with the group and went to all the banquets. She even encouraged Chandler to tell their young daughter, Cecilia, who's the pretty lady was whose picture they kept on the mantelpiece. Cecilia took to calling her "Aunt Monica."

So Chandler led a happy, joyous life. But it was a different one then he'd had with Monica. Both Monica and Savannah were the loves of his life.

But he never forgot Monica. She was the first woman he'd ever loved. Nothing could change that.

A/N: I know! I'm sorry Monica died. But things turned out okay, right? Chandler still lived a happy life. Please tell me if you think this chapter was good, or if it sucked! I'm still waiting for the nasty flames everybody talks about getting. Okay, thanks again!

LUL

Jen