~* So here is the fourth part. I've decided to make this one a little longer then I had originally planned, but only if you guys still like it. Cause I can cut it shorter...okay, I'm done being insecure, so please read it and tell me what you think!~*

Disclaimer: Here's a story: There once was a girl named Jillian. She really liked to write and so she made up stories, but here's the thing. She doesn't own the characters. So please don't sue. The end.

"There you guys are!" Rachel stuck her head out onto the fire escape where Monica and Chandler were standing staring at each other as they had been for the past minute without uttering another word. Rachel looked from one to another. "Chandler, this is Monica. Mon, this is Chandler."

"Nice to meet you," Chandler wasn't sure where he had found his voice, but it came out clear as he stuck his hand out for her to shake. She looked down at it as if she had forgotten what to do with it.

"You too," she said taking it. They didn't let go right away, and Rachel heard her name being called.

"It's cold out here you guys, why don't you climb back in?" Her name was called more insistently and she turned around. "I'm coming, I'm coming." Monica suddenly looked down and was aware that they hadn't let go of the other's hand.

"Monica," he repeated. "Monica what?"

"Geller," she said as if her name was foreign to her.

"Wait, is your father Jack Geller?"

"Yes?" She waited for him to explain how he knew this.

"I work for him."

"You work for my father?" Chandler nodded. He had said his daughter wasn't married. That meant that she wasn't married. That was certainly a plus.

"Yes, I do."

"Chandler? That's an interesting name," she threw it around in her head for awhile before deciding. "I like it."

"Thanks," he said blushing. Blue eyes, dark hair. He had heard that before. He definitely heard that before.

"Should we go inside?"

"I really don't want to go back to the party." No he undeniably didn't not want to go back into the party now. All he wanted was to stay with her. Learn more about her. As if this was his purpose in life was just to know her.

"Neither do I." She bit her bottom lip as she thought. "Let me just tell my friend that I'm leaving and we can go." Her friend. They climbed back inside and she went up to the Italian man that Chandler had just been talking to.

"Joe? I'm leaving. Can you make it home okay?" He nodded and leaned down to whisper in her ear.

"I don't think I'm making it home." He gave her a grin and she nodded and smiled. If things went the way she hoped, she wasn't making it home either. Chandler held out his arm for her which she accepted and they left the party.

"Want to get some coffee?" He asked.

"Sure," she shrugged and they hailed a cab. They pulled in front of Central Perk a few minutes later and got out and found the ugly orange sofa empty.

"No one ever seems to sit here," she said. "It's always open for us when we come in." (AN: Does anyone else ever notice that?)

"Good," Chandler said and he sat down and couldn't take his eyes off her.

"You're going to make me blush," she scolded.

"Sorry," he said but didn't remove his gaze from her face. They ordered and began to talk about everything and nothing all at the same time.

"You love Gatsby too?" Monica asked. "I just bought a new copy the other day because my copy is so worn."

"Wait? From Warner's Bookstore?"

"Yes?" She had bought the last copy! He had to smile at the irony of it.

"Never mind," he assured her. After coffee, he led her to the park where a carriage was sitting out in front. "How convenient," he remarked. He helped her in and settled the blanket on their laps as they drove through the park on the horse drawn carriage.

"I remember I got lost once in the park," Monica said quietly staring into the dark woods of the park. "My grandmother had taken my brother and I to get ice cream and I got left behind." She smiled slightly. "I was so scared. I just sat in the sandbox and cried."

"The sandbox?" He asked. Bits and pieces of memories were forming in his head. She nodded studying his face.

"What are you thinking?"

"I've met you before," he said.

"Where?"

"In the park. When we were little. In the sandbox, you were crying. You were lost, and I took you to my nanny and she helped you find your grandmother." Monica's hand went to her mouth as a half gasp escaped. It made perfect sense suddenly in her head.

"I told you that I liked your name," she muttered. He leaned forward abruptly and kissed her squarely on the mouth. She was taken back first and then fell into the kiss reciprocating all the passion he was. As snow began to fall throughout the city, Chandler and Monica sat in the carriage and kissing a lifetime of missed opportunities that needed to be made up.

Monica woke up the next morning and could smell breakfast cooking. She sighed and buried her head in the pillow with a smile before throwing her legs over the side of the bed and climbing out. She wrapped the sheet around her lithe body and walked out into the kitchen. Chandler was in just flannel pants dancing around the kitchen.

"Hey you," she said breaking his reverie.

"Monica! You scared me," he said leaning forward and giving her a kiss.

"I could see that," she said. "Nice moves, by the way."

"Oh those?" He laughed along with her. He loved her laugh, the silvery sweet sound that filled the air. "You liked those huh?" She nodded and glanced at the clock.

"Oh crap, I'm late, I have to go," she missed the disappointed look that came upon his face as she slid back into the bedroom and threw on the dress from the night before. She pulled on her shoes as she ran towards the door.

"What about breakfast?" Chandler asked holding up the skillet of eggs.

"Sorry," she said shrugging as she grabbed a slice of bacon that was sitting on the table and rushing out the door. The door closed behind her and Chandler sighed and started cleaning up the breakfast for two, that would now be only for one.

Monica rushed into the restaurant that she owned and sighed as she collapsed on the desk chair where she was supposed to be holding interviews. All through the interviews she tried to pay attention to the people, but her mind kept wandering. Back to that morning. Back to him. She couldn't believe that they had met again. She had never been a huge believer in fate or any of that, but this was almost enough to make her rethink that.

"Ms. Geller?" The voice interrupted her out of her thoughts.

"Yes?"

"Miss Buffay is here to see you," her assistant informed her.

"Okay, send her in," Monica said and waited for the door to open. A blonde head peeked in and came inside. It took Monica a minute before she placed the face.

"You dated my brother!" She exclaimed.

"Oh, yeah, I did," the woman said. "My name's Phoebe."

"Hi Phoebe, sit down," Monica gestured to the seat across from her. What were the odds? That was becoming Monica's saying recently. What were the odds that she would ever see Chandler again? Or that he would be friends with Rachel, who went to high school with Monica? Or that Ross's ex girlfriend, one of the only ones that she had actually liked, came into her restaurant asking for a job? Or that Chandler worked for her father? What were the odds? Monica found to her relief that Phoebe was actually qualified for the job.

"My sister's a waitress too," she told Monica. "She works at Riff's."

"Oh, I've been there," Monica said enjoying the conversation that she was having. Ross had been correct, she was a little strange, but nice. Extremely nice. Monica ended hiring her and then smiled thinking about Chandler, and how fate worked. And how she was definitely starting to believe.

Chandler thought about Monica all day. Every time he saw her father, he saw her face. She was beautiful, and lovely, and elegant, and funny, and perfect. She was perfect. And would call her. Right then. He picked up the phone and dialed her number. A man answered. What was a man doing answering her phone?

"Hello?"

"Hi, is Monica there?"

"No, she's not, can I take a message," the man asked and Chandler said no and hung up. What was another man doing at her apartment? Was it an ex-boyfriend? She had never said anything about having or not having a boyfriend. Married, he knew that she wasn't, but having or not having a boyfriend had not come up into the conversation. Why hadn't he asked? He felt so stupid all of a sudden. He would call her back later, he decided, and clear this up. Maybe it was just a friend. Yeah, that was it, just a friend.

Monica got home that afternoon to find her brother in her apartment.

"Hey!" She gave him a hug.

"Hey, I thought you and I could go get some dinner," he offered. "We haven't in awhile."

"That sounds like a great idea," she said. And Ross forgot to tell her about the man who called and chose not to leave a message, and Monica forgot to ask if anyone had called. And they left for dinner, not knowing that Chandler was going to call.

Chandler was walking by the restaurant with one of his friends when he looked in the window and saw Monica sitting at the one table. She was drinking a glass of wine and she was sitting with a man. A man? Chandler felt his heart lurch and break into a million pieces. She was with another man? Someone might as well reach into his chest and take his heart and stomp on it. He turned and fled away from the restaurant, trying to put as much distance between it and him. His friend called out his name, but he ignored it as he ran across the pavement. In her defense, he knew that they had only met the night before, but still, she felt like she was his. She was his. She was supposed to be his, at least. He had thought so. Apparently, she didn't agree.

Monica was waiting for him to call. She'd check her messages every night when she got home from work. He wasn't calling her, and he wasn't returning her calls. She was at a loss as of what to do now. Should she go over to his apartment? She searched her memory of what she could have possibly done wrong. Nothing. She had done nothing wrong. The night they had spent together had been amazing. Hadn't it? Or was she just dreaming it? Imagining something that hadn't happened? The phone rang and she dove for it.

"Hello?"

"Mon?" It was her newly acquired friend and employee.

"Hi Phoebe," Monica felt herself sigh internally. She had hoped it was him.

"What are you doing tonight?" I guess nothing, she thought to herself. Why hadn't he called? Why was he so obviously ignoring her?

"Not much of anything," Monica replied.

"Want to come out with us?" Phoebe asked.

"Sure." She had nothing better to do. She couldn't just sit and wait by the phone forever. No, that wouldn't do. She had to occupy herself with something. This was perfect, she told herself. A perfect distraction. Yes, just keep telling yourself that, she thought. Perfect.

*~Oh no!!! Did you think that it would be that easy? Of course not! Please review and I'll post the next part soon. Probably soon because I've started it already. But it'll only get posted if you review. So review!!!!~*