A/N: Well, I read all of your "Make him come back" and "Suddenly, when she turns around to leave...there is Chandler!" reviews, and believe me, I almost wrote that story! But that would be too easy, now wouldn't it Oliver? Well sorry if this moved really fast... this is DEFINITELY not my best writing but I feel really bad about not posting for so long, so here it is! *Hugs and kisses for Jenni - Elizabeth - Becca - everyone*

Disclaimer: I don't own any of these things except Elizabeth - ha! Although if I owned Matthew Perry - well, let's just say I wouldn't be sitting here writing stories about him... mmmm.

CHAPTER EIGHT - Backwards

8*8*8*Six months later*8*8*8*

Chandler reached his apartment and opened the door. He stood in the doorway for a minute, staring at his bachelor pad. He'd been offered a lavish suite near the campus, but preferred to a little further from school, live like a real man instead of a little boy who was being put through college by his mother.

He sighed, tossing his mail onto the kitchen counter. The apartment was practically bare, with only the essentials - a TV, a couch, a couple of lamps, a bookshelf. But that wasn't really what bothered Chandler.

No, what made Chandler sigh every time he saw his place was its lack of personal tokens. The pictures, the mementos, the clues that a human being with a life resided there. He had none of those. Because he had no life. Not here in England anyway. He had a few bar buddies, a couple of guys in his classes he could call for assignments, but no one he could call a "friend." And certainly no girlfriends.

Chandler thought of the one thing that had kept him alive most nights, his one intimate possession - the shoebox under his bed that was full of pictures. Mostly, pictures of Monica, or him and Monica, and a few of Monica and Rachel and Ross and him.

Shaking his head, Chandler concentrated on opening his mail. Bill. Junk. Junk. Stupid advertisement. Who wants to buy a toenail clipper that doubles as a nose hair trimmer? Chandler wondered in disgust. Then he came to a real envelope. His first thought was that it was from his mother, "checking up on him" like she so thoughtfully did after ever appearance of a daytime talk show, warning him to look out for paparazzi and crazed fans. But then he saw the return address.

Monica Geller.

Chandler ripped open the envelope quickly. Monica had never written him, and he figured she probably never would. They hadn't exactly ended things on good terms the last time they'd been together. Although Chandler had wanted nothing more than to stay with Monica and Elizabeth, he knew he should bow out, let Monica move on with her life. They'd both hurt each other, they'd both messed up royally, and Chandler didn't want to screw up Monica's life more than he already had. With him finding out the hard way that he had a child, and with Monica overhearing Nora Bing's rants about taking Elizabeth from her mother, there was a rift between them that Chandler wasn't sure could ever be repaired. So he'd left, hoping and praying that maybe, someday, he would see them again.

There was a letter, and a picture. Chandler looked at the picture first. It was of Monica, and a little girl - Elizabeth, he realized in shock. She looked older - but then, babies did grow quickly. She was even more beautiful than the last time he'd seen her. She had her mother's long, dark, wavy hair, but there was another tinge of color in it - almost like a lighter brown. His hair color.

And Monica - she looked gorgeous too. Chandler stared at the picture for a while, and then read the letter, which was more of a quick note.

Chandler,

This picture was taken at Elizabeth's second birthday party. I realized you didn't have any pictures of her, and I thought you might want one. I also wanted to say thank you for the money. I really appreciate it, and so does Liz.

Monica

P.S. She asked for Daddy yesterday.

Chandler stared at the postscript until the words began to blur. He slumped against the wall and did the most pathetic thing he thought possible - he lie down on the floor and cried.

And when he stood up a few minutes later, he picked up the phone, knowing what he was going to do.

"Yes, British Airways? When is your soonest flight to New York?"

***********

Monica took a pot of soup off the oven and put it on the table. "Rach! Lizzie! Dinnertime!"

Elizabeth, now two, came scampering out of her bedroom, with Rachel right behind her. It gave Monica a little thrill to think "Elizabeth's bedroom." Up until just two months ago, they'd shared a bedroom, first at her parent's house, then in their tiny one-bedroom apartment. But thanks to her promotion to assistant lunch chef at Morningstar's, and, of course, her newly gained child support, they'd been able to move to a slightly larger two-bedroom, in a better area of the city, right near a fantastic school for Elizabeth to go to once she reached kindergarten.

Monica doled out stew for each of the three of them, and then they all sat down to eat. When she was finished, she picked up Elizabeth and gave her a kiss.

"Who's gonna behave for Aunt Rachel tonight?" she asked.

"Me!" Elizabeth shouted.

"Well, she's certainly inherited your lungs, Mon," Rachel teased. Monica smirked at her.

"I'd make a snide comment if you weren't baby-sitting my daughter tonight," Monica teased back. She leaned over and pecked Rachel on the cheek too. "Thanks again, Rach." Elizabeth's regular nighttime baby-sitter was on vacation, and Monica had a class tonight at the new adult school.

"It's fine. I love watching her. Who's my favorite little niece?" Rachel asked.

"Me!" Elizabeth shrieked again.

"All right. Honey, you'll probably be sleeping when Mommy gets home, so Aunt Rachel will give you a bath and tuck you in, okay?" Monica said.

" 'Kay."

"Eskimo kisses?" Monica grinned and Elizabeth leaned forward so they could rub noses. "Okay, sweetie. Bye-bye."

"Bye-bye, Mama," Elizabeth cried as Monica back out of the doorway and then closed it. She stuck her key in the whole to lock it, and then heard a voice.

"She's so beautiful."

Monica froze. When she managed to turn around, she was staring at Chandler. Again, caught unaware.

"You've got to stop sneaking up on me," she said, her voice emotionless except for a slight, almost unnoticeable shake.

"I'm sorry," Chandler said, taking a step down the hall, closer to her.

"Listen, if you came across an ocean just to tell my daughter is beautiful, then I need to leave," Monica spat, striding past him. She was angry at him - angry for leaving, angry for telling her it was because he loved her, angry for being so damn cute.

Chandler reached out and grabbed her wrist. "I'm an idiot.''

"Again, already knew it," Monica said harshly. She almost immediately regretted her words. Turning around and looked at his hurt face, her heart flip-flopped. "I'm - "

"It's okay," Chandler said. "Don't apologize. Just - hear me out, all right?"

"I've got a class to get to..." Monica trailed off. "But - I guess 18th Century Italian Cooking won't be going anywhere."

Chandler gave her a small smile, and she smiled back. "Then - let's go somewhere. Not in the hall."

"Okay." She looked down and saw he was still holding her wrist. He looked down too, reddened, and dropped it. Then they walked out of the apartment building and Monica led him into the coffee shop next door. The nighttime rush had thinned out, and there were only a few sparse patrons here and there. Monica and Chandler sat on a bright orange couch near the back.

"Mon," Chandler began, "I know you, uh, weren't expecting me. But I had to come back. Like I said before - I'm stupid. I thought running away and leaving you be would make it all go away. I mean, I'd left you to raise my child - didn't know I had one, but regardless, I abandoned you. To go to a school across the world that I absolutely hate." Monica smiled at this. "I come home and I find you, and her, and it's just too weird, because you have a baby that's not mine. But then, wow, outta the blue, she is mine. And I'm so mad at you for lying to me that I tell my mother and of course she goes talking about taking her. Monica, I would never try to take Elizabeth from you. You are the most wonderful mother in the world and you love each other so much. And then, you were mad at me, and I was mad at you, and I no longer had a place in your life. Even though I wanted it so badly, I didn't think I ever could come back permanently."

By this point, tears were welling up behind Monica's eyes. She took Chandler's hands and opened her mouth, but he shushed her. "Let me finish. Back in London - God, Mon, I have nothing. I have never been more miserable than I have been in the last few months. And then I got your letter, and your picture, and I knew I had to come back and see if there was anything for me here, because I realized that if there was and I missed it, I could hate myself forever. And if you wouldn't let me back into your lives... well, then, I'd go home and never bother you again." Chandler took a deep breath. "Which one is it, Mon?"

Monica thought her head might explode from all the emotions that were pulsing through it. Desire, need, understanding, the last rays of anger... and the biggest one, the one that made her mouth dry and her palms sweat. Love.

And then she kissed him. In that kiss, she told him everything he needed to hear, and he understood, and kissed her back. And when she pulled away, there was a big grin on her face.

"I love you too, Chandler," she said. "I think - I think we could be together. I think it could work, if we just try." She was almost giddy with relief and happiness.

"Okay, then, I - I have something else I need to do," he mumbled, suddenly looking like a nervous teenager. Monica frowned slightly - until he slid off the couch and onto one knee.

"Oh my God," she muttered in a weak voice. Chandler reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. "Chandler - "

"Monica, I love you. I love you and I love Elizabeth. I know our life together won't be easy, because we're young, and hell, we're kinda doing the thing backwards. But I haven't stopped thinking about you since the day I left, and my life without you would be completely empty." He opened the small box, and inside was an engagement ring, a stunning, gorgeous engagement ring. Monica's jaw dropped as she realized it was the ring she had wanted since she was 14, the one she'd found a picture of in a catalogue and ripped out and put in her notebook. Chandler grinned up at her. "I was thinking you'd like this one," he whispered.

"Oh, it's so... it's..." she couldn't find the words.

"Monica," he said throatily. "Will you marry me?"

"I..." She wanted to say yes. She wanted to say yes and take that ring and put it on her finger, and kiss Chandler until she couldn't breathe, and make love to him tonight, on their engagement night...

"I need some water," she choked. Chandler's face fell, but he stood up, walked over to the counter, and asked the man working there for a glass of water. He brought it back to her, and she took it, drinking it thirstily. When she had drained the glass she looked at Chandler. His eyes were downcast, and the small box was clutched tightly in his hand.

"You don't want to," he said flatly.

"Yes I do," she said around the lump in her throat. He looked up.

"But..." he prompted her.

"But you live in England."

Chandler's mouth opened. "Geography? You won't marry me because of geography? My God, Monica, you and Elizabeth can come live with me in a second! You can come tonight, if you want to, you can - "

"I can't," she said, interrupting him. "I live here. In New York. This is where I work. My family and my friends are all here. I can't leave them - Rachel, and Ross, and my parents. I can't live on a different continent..."

"But..." Chandler said desperately. "But you... I mean..."

"You have no idea how much I want to marry you, Chandler. But I can't leave New York. I think... how could we do this? How can we make this work? Can't you come out here?"

"I have to go to school, Monica. If I'm going to support us for the rest of our lives, I have to go to a good school and get a good job...''

"You just said that you hated Oxford!" Monica cried.

"Well, yeah, but that's where I have to go! My mother is paying - "

"Your mother can't pay for everything forever!"

"And that's why I'm going where she wants me to!" Chandler yelled, standing up suddenly. Monica shrank away. "I'm going to get a good job so I can live on my own! And I was hoping my wife and daughter could live with me!"

Monica was aware of the silence in the coffee house. "Chandler, everyone's looking at us."

"I don't care," he muttered angrily, but sat down again. "I mean, Mon, are you not understanding this?'

"I am, but if we're going to get married, we have to make some compromises."

"So come to England with me."

"I can't. You come to New York."

"I can't. Not unless you want to be right back where you started - with nothing. Because that's what'll happen. And anyway, you can't just drop out of Oxford. Do you have any idea how much money my mother would lose?"

"It's all about money, and your mother!" Monica cried. "Why can't it ever be about us?!?" She stood up, furiously trying not to burst into tears. "When you think about that, you get back to me." And she stormed away.

A/N: Okay, so I ended another chapter with someone leaving... but I am having trouble with the next part! Please bear with me! And if you hated this... well, sorry. I kinda hate it too. But please don't be TOO cruel.