~* Hey! Thanks for reviewing. With the exception of one reviewer, who I am going to address right now: Didn't your mother ever tell you that if you had nothing nice to say, don't say anything at all? I can take constructive criticism but that was ridiculous. But to all the very kind souls that reviewed properly, thanks so much!!!!!!! Okay, that's my little tangent, please read and tell me if you liked it.~*

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. They belong to some very rich people.

"Chandler," she said slowly. "You want to know who Emily's father is?"

"Yes."

"And if I told you, you'd believe me. Right?"

"Of course," he answered automatically. He would believe her. Anything that came out of her mouth, he would believe, because she had said it. He trusted her wholeheartedly.

"She's yours Chandler," Monica replied softly. His head began to spin. His? How was that possible? "I was almost three months pregnant when you left."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"You didn't want to know," she whispered. "You already had one foot out the door."

"Why didn't you tell me when you first found out?"

"I couldn't figure out how to tell you," she explained. "And then...well, you know what happened after that." It was funny, he wanted to say. After that wasn't so clear after all.

Three years before:

Chandler knocked on the door and got no answer, he and Monica were supposed to meet to have dinner. He took out his spare key and looked around the dark apartment. Where was Monica? Usually she was home by now. He looked around and found a note sitting on the table.

Chandler-

Sorry, had to work late again tonight. Can we have dinner tomorrow? I know that we have a lot to talk about, but we will I promise.

Love Monica

He threw the note away and went back over to his apartment, he found something slightly edible and heated it up. She had been working late almost every night for the past two weeks, making it awful hard to see each other. He ate his chicken alone and then glanced at his watch. She wouldn't be home for at least another two hours. There was a party that some of his friends from work were having, he could make an appearance and that would waste some time. Having made up his mind to do this, Chandler grabbed his coat and left the apartment leaving a note for Monica telling her where'd he be if she got home before him.

"Chandler!" Henry opened the door. "Thought you said that you couldn't make it."

"Well, the friend I was supposed to have dinner with was working late again tonight, so I thought that I'd come for a little bit," Chandler explained.

"Well, great, come on, there's someone that I want you to meet. This is Cindy, Cindy this is Chandler. I work with him."

Present:

"Mine?" He repeated. Monica nodded.

"She has your ears Chandler, and your sense of humor. She has it already and she's only two," Monica told him.

"But she has your eyes, and your smile," he muttered. They were some of the first things he had noticed about Emily. She had Monica's features. She would break hearts one day. Just as her mother had done before her. Wait, that wasn't fair, of course it wasn't. Monica hadn't hurt him, he had hurt her. But she had hurt him, when she threw the book at him and told him to get the hell out. Then she had hurt him. But they had been broken up before that. He wanted to remind her.

"We only slept together a few times," he muttered.

"Once is all that it takes," Monica replied. She rubbed her arms trying to get warm. She was always cold, Chandler thought. He could remember handing her his coat or getting a blanket for her when they were all at his place. Focus, Chandler, he thought to himself. Stop thinking of before. Before is gone.

"She's mine?"

"You've asked that twice. Yes. She is yours."
"You're sure?" She snorted and rolled her eyes.

"Yes," she said and he could see tears welling in her eyes. He always seemed to have that effect on her. "I'm positive. I didn't sleep around, that was you." And that, he wanted to say to her, was cruel, but shock kept from saying anything. Besides, she had a point. He had slept with Cindy.

Three years before:

"So what's going on with you and Monica?" Joey asked as they played foosball the next day.

"I don't know, we haven't had a chance to sit down and talk about it yet," he told him scoring a goal.

"You slept together though, right?"

"Twice," Chandler fended off one of Joey's hits and then looked up at his best friend. "Once in London, once when we got back here."

"Do you think that you'll get together?"

"I don't know," Chandler replied. "I hope so." He felt a grin creep to his face that came when conversations were about Monica.

"That's great!" Joey said patting him on the back. "I always knew that you two would get together."

"Really?"

"Oh yeah, you're perfect," Joey responded. "Now let's play some foosball."

Pregnant? Not possible. Monica looked at the test again. No. Her and Chandler hadn't slept together in two weeks. Oh God, she was pregnant. What would she say to him? They weren't even officially dating. They had had dinner a few times, and they both knew that they were leading into something, but they weren't yet. What would he do? What would he say? Oh God. The door opened.

"Hey Mon?" Rachel was home. Monica wrapped the pregnancy test in toilet paper, box and all, and threw it in the trash can.

"Yes?" She wiped away the tears and stepped out of the bathroom.

"Can I borrow that blue sweater of yours?"

"Sure," Monica smiled. "It's in my closet."

"Thanks," Rachel flashed her a smile and ran into the bedroom to get it. She came back out a minute later.

"Are you having dinner with Chandler tonight?" Rachel asked.

"No, I have to work."

"When are you then? Are you guys going to date seriously? Is he serious about wanting to date?"

"What is this the Spanish Inquisition?" Monica snapped. Rachel looked taken aback. "I'm sorry," she covered quickly. "I just don't know, and it's starting to get to me, I didn't mean to snap like that." Her best friend wrapped her in a hug.

"Don't worry about it sweetie," she told her. "He really likes you. I can see it in his eyes when he looks at you."

"Really?" Monica lifted her head to look at Rachel.

"Really, now thanks for the sweater and have fun at work." With that Rachel breezed out of the room and into her own bedroom. Monica sat down on the couch shakily. What would she say?

Present:

"So does she think that Joey is her father?"

"No, she thinks of him as Uncle Joey. I suppose if we got married, he would adopt her." Got married. The words resounded in Chandler's head.

"Are you two that serious?"

"I don't think that is any of your business," Monica replied icily. She walked away and into the kitchen where she poured herself a glass of water. Her head was pounding and her hand was shaking. This is what he did to her. This was always what he did to her.

"Monica?" The voice came softly from the living room.

"What?" She snapped without turning around to face him. Her hands gripped the countertop for support.

"Would it be okay if I got to know Emily?"

"She is yours."

"So that would be okay?'

"Nothing is okay Chandler," she responded. The tone of her voice made his heart break. Cindy. Why did he sleep with her? Why did she call him? Why had he been so stupid? That's what ultimately it amounted to. Him being stupid.

"Do you want me to go?"

"If you want to meet her, I will go get her," Monica told him finally taking a deep breath and turning around to meet his eyes.

"I would like that." She nodded and left the apartment. Chandler wandered around and looked at the pictures. Pictures of Emily with Monica, and with Joey and if one didn't know any better, they would have thought that the three of them were a perfect family. We could have been a perfect family, Chandler thought bitterly to himself. I screwed that up. I always screw up. It seemed to him that no matter what he did, he managed to find a way to mess up. No matter how great things were, he messed it up. Just like with Monica. He was impatient, that was the first problem, and he was self-destructive: problem number two.

Three years ago:

"Working again?" Chandler repeated.

"I'm sorry," Monica said. "We're working on a new menu. These next few weeks are going to be crazy. But I want us to go out and talk." There was a sparkle in her eyes. "There's something that I need to talk to you about."

"Not tonight?"

"Sorry," she leaned forward and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks for understanding." That's what he did. He understood. Monica left the apartment and Chandler yanked off his tie, he had gotten dressed up for nothing. The phone rang and he reached over to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Chandler?"

"Yes?"

"This is Cindy, from the party?"

"Oh, yes. Hi."

"Hi, I was just wondering if you wanted to go get something to eat sometime?" He didn't know why he did it, but the next words out of his mouth he would live to regret. He was just so angry with Monica for canceling again that he wasn't thinking clearly.

"How about tonight?"

"Tonight?" Cindy repeated. "Tonight's good."

"Great, pick you up at seven-thirty?"

"Great," they hung up and Chandler readjusted his tie. It meant nothing. It was just a dinner with a woman he had had a fun time with at that party. Nothing. It didn't mean that he loved Monica any less, he just didn't want to be alone for the fourth night in a row. That wasn't a crime, right?

Present:

The door opened and Monica came in holding Emily in her arms. Joey came right behind in a defensive way. They were his. Chandler could understand. He had let her go and it had been the worse thing he had ever done. He could respect Joey for trying his hardest to keep her. He wished he had.

"Emily," Monica's voice quavered, but she stood tall. "This is Chandler, Chandler, this is Emily. Chandler is your father, Em."

"Like Uncle Ross is Benny's," Joey added to help the little girl understand. She nodded her head.

"Ice cream?" Emily asked. Chandler gave Monica a questioning look.

"Ross always takes her and Ben out for ice cream, she equates that with being a father," Monica explained. Chandler nodded. If only being a father was going to be that easy. Chandler was terrified of being a father. He would screw up. His father had, and Chandler was already off to a rocky start.

"Can I hold her?" Chandler asked.

"If she'll let you," Monica answered. She placed Emily on the floor, and Chandler held out his arms. The little girl looked back at her mother who nodded slightly. She giggled and ran into Chandler's arms. Chandler had cried only on rare occasions, when his parents split, when his grandmother died, and when Monica left him. But he was crying now. She was his. It was hard to believe, but she was his. Amazing how much he could love someone so quickly.

"She's beautiful Monica," he whispered. Monica covered her mouth and ran from the room, the emotion being far too much for her to handle.

Three Years Before:

It was when he woke up with a headache and no idea what he had done the night before that he realized he had done something stupid. The girl in his bed....well, it wasn't Monica. Oh God. He had slept with someone else. No it was okay, he would just get her out of there before anyone saw her. If only he could remember her name. Sydney? Cindy? Cindy. That was it.

"Cindy?" He gently shook her awake. "You need to leave. I need you to leave."

"Chandler?" A voice called from the living room. Shit, he cursed to himself. Monica. "Are you awake? I felt so bad about last night that I made you breakfast. Should I bring it in there?"

"No!" He said a little too emphatically. "Set it out there. I'll be out in a minute."

"Okay," she replied suspiciously. He scrambled out of the bed and threw clothes on. He walked out into the living room.

"Why don't we eat in your apartment?" He suggested.

"We're already over here," she pointed out.

"Did you bring strawberries?" He glanced at the plates in her hands.

"No."

"I can't eat pancakes without strawberries," he said. "Could you run over to your apartment and get me some?"

"Sure," she said and gave him a kiss. "We need to talk."

"We will." She smiled and left. He ran and got Cindy up.

"You need to get out now," he pleaded. She rubbed her eyes. "I mean, now." She yawned and walked out of the bedroom and into the living room.

"Chandler?" The door walked in and Monica walked in. So this is what it feels like to know that you're doomed, Chandler thought and wanted to shut his eyes and pretend that it wasn't happening. But it was happening, and he would have to fix it. Fast.

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