A/N: before I begin, I feel compelled to thank you all for the reviews. And starheart, I don't have CP myself, but I know a few people who have it.

"What?" Chandler gasped.

"I'm sorry." Monica's cheeks were fiery red, and she was avoiding his eyes. "You hate me, right?"

"No, no…" Chandler trailed off. "I just didn't think you'd say that."

"Neither did Gunther," Monica quipped.

Chandler didn't laugh – or even smile. "Not the time to make a joke," he noted.

"Yeah, sorry," Monica replied. "I guess…"

"Well, I shouldn't be telling you off for it," Chandler said, sighing. "It's my habit too. Remember?"

Monica sighed, as her mind went back to that long-ago encounter. "Yeah, you-you said."

"Fourteen years ago." Chandler's voice was dreamy, and he wasn't looking at Monica. Not the Monica who was sitting in the kitchen, anyhow. He was looking at the Monica, the Monica in his mind, the one who had been there fourteen years ago – the embarrassed expression, the short hair, the look of a girl, barely out of her teens, who'd found herself in a motel room with an unknown man… Shocked, but pretty.

"Chandler?" Monica's voice jerked him out of his reverie.

"Yeah, sorry." He was pulled fourteen years into the future, and was staring at the same girl. With the same expression on her face. But now, she wasn't just a random girl. She was Monica – Ross' sister, Kendra's mother – his daughter's mother. His eldest daughter. She was the woman he lived with. Monica, one of his friends.

"I… I shouldn't have told you," Monica said, hastily gathering up her belongings. "I'm sorry, I should – go."

"No, Mon, Moni—" He broke off. "Monica, it's ok. I don't care. We can put it behind us."

"I guess." She sat back down. "So, how was the date with – what's-her-name?"

"Lane," he replied. "Total bust. She might be pretty, but she's pretty dumb as well."

"Oh," Monica said. There wasn't much more to say. "Well, I had fun with Gunther. We didn't decide on menus, though. And I think I'll be resigning soon. I'll become a housewife."

"Housewife?" Chandler was merely shocked that Monica would decide to do this, but Monica took it a different way.

"Ok, house-bachelorette," Monica amended her statement. "I mean, there's loads to do, right? There's Kendra, and I love her, but the diplegia is quite hard going, Ben might as well live here, Phoebe needs a bunch of help, and there's you three now, as well… I love having you here, but it means lots of food, and it'd be great to give up work if it weren't for the money…"

"Money?"

"Yeah, I can't feed everyone on thin air, can I?"

"No, I guess not," Chandler said, thoughtfully. "Mon, I forgot, I meant to give you rent for the month."

"Rent!" Monica repeated, scornfully. "I'm not gonna take money from a friend. Chandler, how mean do you think I am?"

"Monica, how mean do you think I am?" Chandler mimicked her way of speech. "I'm not gonna let you just use up all your money on me, and the kids."

"No, I can't take money—" Monica began. She stopped. The money would be useful. She needed it. She couldn't afford to pay for everyone – not on her wages. And even though Phoebe helped, her money was few and far between.

"Please, Mon," Chandler said.

She sighed. It was inevitable. She was going to do it. "Ok." She realised that that didn't sound very grateful. "Thanks, Chandler. You don't know how much it means to me."

"Maybe not," he replied. "But I can imagine. When Mary first – passed – well, Alice and Shawn and I, we didn't have much money, Mary had had a good, regular job. I was between jobs when she died – I'd been laid off when she got pregnant, I'd spent so much time at scans – sonograms, I mean. And, well, we were practically broke. Alice needed new books and stuff all the time, and Shawn was at the stage where they grow so fast."

Monica made a comforting noise, and laid her hand on his arm. "I – I didn't know."

"Well, it's not something I go around broadcasting," Chandler said, softly. "Anyhow, Mary's sister, Dina, came to live with us, it was easiest, because it meant I didn't have to be there all the time for Ally and Shawn – I could go and try to find work. But then Dina got married. She moved in with her husband, Bobby. Even though Dina and Bobby were so happy, it was hard for us. I mean, it really helped when I told Joey and Nonna what t—"

"Who is Nonna?" Monica interrupted.

"Joey's grandma," Chandler replied. "She's great. Kinda stroppy, but she's great. She gave us some money to help out, and she advised us to come back to America, get in touch with old friends, my parents, anyone who might be able to help. And I have never been so thrilled in all my life as when Nonna gave us the money. Then she persuaded Joey to come with us to America, and well, here we are."

"I'm glad you're here," Monica said, softly.

"Thanks, Mon."

They sat in silence for a while, until Monica broke it. "Do you miss your wife?" she asked, abruptly. "Would you rather that she was still here, and you lived in England with her?"

Chandler considered. "Mon, I…" He paused. "I miss her; it hurts like hell, Monica. It's like someone's got a knife in my heart, and every so often, they turn it. It hurts when I see a woman who looks like Mary, or when I hear Shawn mumbling 'Mummy' in his sleep. Or if I see Ross looking so happy with Rachel, and I think, 'Shit, why did He take my wife away from me, why did He leave Ross his?' Monica, I – I just, I pray that you won't have to feel this pain, ever. It's like nothing else in the world. I'd have died cheerfully if it weren't for my children – Mary's children. And every time I see Ally, it hurts so badly, because she looks like her mother, and, oh, Monica, it hurts when I see you. When I see you and Kendra, I can't help thinking of that night when I cheated on Mary. I never told her, you know. And I hate myself for it."

He clenched his hand into a fist, and unfurled it, using the hand to wipe away his tears. "I – I keep on thinking of times when I did wrong by Mary. When we fought, when – when we didn't speak. And the times when she'd done nothing wrong, when I was just being plain damn irrational. When I ignored her, when she needed me most. When she told me she was pregnant the – the last time, when I couldn't believe it. I didn't speak to her for weeks. Oh, oh, I hate myself for it. You've never known grief like that, Monica. I pray you never will. I pray no one ever will again, but I can't stop it happening – I know Ally feels it, and Joey, and Shawn, but it's nothing like the pain that I feel."

The tears came thick and fast now, he could barely see through them. Monica was aghast that she'd created this storm, but could think of nothing to comfort him. It was true. She had never known such grief.

Chandler continued. "The happy times, though. When we laughed, and when –" Here, he was caught in such a tempest of tears that he couldn't speak. His breath caught in sobs, and the tears ran down his face, flowing onto the table. Monica reached over, and grabbed a box of Kleenex. She handed him one, but he pushed it away.

"No…" he sobbed. "I – I haven't told anyone this, not ever. I need to talk, please…" He gulped air. "Please, Monica. Listen. I need you."

Wordlessly, Monica nodded. She felt over-awed by this grief. The sadness she had felt at the death of her beloved 'Nana', that was nothing – nothing compared to Chandler's anguished longing for the wife who had been snatched from him.

"It was before Ally was born. We, we mixed juice, 'twas blackcurrant juice, and lemonade," Chandler murmured. "Pink lemonade. I don't know if you have it here. We made it a couple of years before all the shops started doing it. We used to laugh when all the shops sold it, said we'd invented it, they'd stole it off us…" He gave a weak laugh. His voice had a slight Midlands drawl now, similar to Alice's. Monica wondered if he was aware of it. "We played dominoes. I'd never played before, she taught me. I always used to lose. She never stopped encouraging me, though." He sighed. "Not like me. Mon, I took her for granted. I just, I guess, I thought she'd always be there. I'd have time to make it up to her."

She knows, Monica wanted to say. But what if she didn't? Monica's Jewish upbringing had taught her that there was an afterlife, and she'd better not question it. But she wasn't a strict Jew. She often doubted the existence of God. And so, what if Mary was just gone? Dead. Buried. The end?

"She loved reading…" Chandler sounded distant, far away. He was deep in his past, in the small house that he had shared with Mary. "We had lots of books. They weren't mine, really. Mary just, she used to sit on this chair, in the front room, she used to read for hours. She read to Ally, and to Shawn, and to – to me, even. And to Leo."

Monica wondered who Leo was. A brother?

"Oh, I loved poor Leo," Chandler said, the sobs easing. "He was our cat, a marmalade cat, Mary used to say. He loved Ally – he had to be put down when she was five. We cried, oh, we cried. Ally understood death, even at that age. I remember, when she was two, Dina was saying something about this old school-friend of hers, and Joey told her to call her. And Dina, she looks at us, and she says, deadpan, 'She's dead'. I heard Ally laughing, and no one else understood that Ally had known what death was. She'd known."

At that age, Monica thought, sadly. Ally had surely had her fair share of sadness. Why couldn't she have remained innocent?

"I – I just miss Mary," Chandler said, simply. "There's nothing more to it. I miss my wife. And sometimes I'll not think about her for a few days, and I'll think, 'how could I have forgotten my wife?'. I feel like I have to think about her all the time to keep her alive. And sometimes it's hard, Mon. I mean, it's hard to think about her, but it's even harder not to."

Monica opened her mouth, but Chandler stopped her.

"I know, it wasn't wrong for me to forget about her for a few moments while we were married," he said. "But, it just seems, now she's gone, Shawn will probably forget about her – or the memories will dim, anyhow. And Ally, she's just a kid herself. I need to be strong for her. But it hurts so much to see Ally hurt – she's my daughter, Monica. I wanna – I wanna keep all the pain away from her, y'know?"

"Yeah…" Monica said, softly. "I know what you mean. When Kendra was sick, I – I would have done anything to switch places with her. And even now – oh, if I could do anything to stop my little girl from being frustrated about her paralysis, oh, you – I'd do it straightaway. She's my life, that girl." She took a deep breath. "I'm not blaming you, Chandler, I mean, we agreed it was one night, but it's not been easy, just taking care of her by myself."

"I – I am sorry," Chandler replied.

"No, no," Monica disagreed. "I don't want you to be sorry. I've had Ross, and I've had Phoebe – and Rachel, and Gunther, to an extent. And even Richard, my – well, we were engaged. But he didn't want any more children… and I did. So we split up." She sighed. "By then, I guess I'd gotten used to being alone. I mean, when I first found out I was pregnant, I was terrified, Chandler. I was twenty-one, I didn't even have a stable job, I was living in a two-bedroom apartment with Phoebe… it was hard. I – I didn't want the baby at first. I was going to get an abortion, Chandler. I was at the clinic, I had the money in my hand, and then – well, I don't know. Suddenly I was at home, and I was telling Ross and Rachel and Phoebe the news."

"How did they take it?"

Monica considered. "Phoebe, she-she was great. She was my lifeline. Rachel was shocked. She was only nineteen, see – she skipped a grade, and we were in high school together, that's how we were friends. I guess she was shocked that someone about her age was pregnant. Ok, but Ross, he was pretty mad. He couldn't believe I'd been irresponsible enough to have a one-night stand and not use protection. But I – well, when I got the sonogram picture, everyone fell in love with Kendra. And when I went into labour when I was seven months pregnant, everyone was terrified for the baby. And then… well, Kendra was born. She was in hospital for about eight weeks, and then she came home – we'd moved here by then, me and Pheebs. But then she got sick. She was in and out of hospital until she was about two, there were complications. And she got CP."

"What happened then?"

"Well, we moved her bedroom into what used to be the sitting room. Then we found she could move a little bit in water, so we got the pool. And… it's been hard, sometimes… well, I know she feels like giving up every so often. We've just got to try and be there for her. We can't live her life for her. And, even though I really want to, I can't protect her from the world. I know that there's gonna be people out there who'll point at her chair, and who won't get to know the real Kendra, the girl behind the CP. But I want to – well, to prepare her for that. She knows that not everyone can see the real girl, but…" Monica trailed off, sighing. "I don't know."

Chandler nodded. "I understand." He took her in his arms and hugged her. "Oh, you understand."

Monica smiled. "Yeah. I mean, I've never lost a lover, but, I've died a thousand deaths watching my baby suffer."

"It's hard, isn't it?" Chandler sympathised. He moved over to Monica, and hugged her. His eyes were dry now, and Monica had not shed a tear.

"Mmm," Monica murmured. "It was – is – hard. But it helps to have friends who understand – friends to talk to."

Chandler nodded. "Ok. So, whenever we need to talk, then, Mon, we come to each other?"

"Uh huh."

"Us against the world," Chandler announced. "And I guess I'd better head to bed now. It's nearly five."

"Ugh… really? Me too, then." Monica smiled, kissed his cheek, and turned off the lights.

"Sleep well, sweetie," Monica called out, softly, as they left the kitchen.

"You too… honey."