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Part Eight

"Rachel!" Monica exclaimed as she entered the restaurant Rachel had chosen.

"Hey, Mon!" Rachel said happily as she came over to hug her old friend. "How're you doing?" she asked as they sat down.

"I'm good.I've been busy though." Rachel nodded.

"Same here," she said, and glanced around, looking down at her watch.

"Do you have to be someplace?" Monica asked, noticing the action.

"What? Oh, no!" Rachel laughed nervously, "Just um.checking the time." The truth was she expected Alana and Chandler to be here any second, and she wanted to be seated before they arrived. Alana didn't want Monica to spot them until after dinner.

It wasn't long after their drinks arrived that Rachel spotted Alana and Chandler. Alana waved briefly at Rachel, and they sat down at the other end of the restaurant. Luckily, Monica had been looking down at the time, otherwise there was no way she wouldn't have recognized Chandler. Rachel certainly did. He was still as handsome as ever, but the big giveaway was his eyes. Those blue, piercing eyes..the eyes that Monica once admitted to Rachel were half the reason she'd been attracted to Chandler. Rachel had never forgotten those eyes. She highly doubted Monica had either.

They'd scarcely taken a few bites of their meal before Monica brought up the topic of Alana. "You'll never guess who I've been corresponding with," she said to Rachel. "Alana Bing."

"Alana Bing?" Rachel asked, trying to sound surprised, "You mean...Chandler's daughter? Chandler and Grace's daughter."

Monica nodded, "The one and only," she paused for a second, "She's a very sweet girl..I guess her Grace's dad gave her my e-mail because she needed somebody female to talk to, you know? I do feel bad for her..Grace would've been an excellent mom."

Rachel nodded, sadly. Though she hadn't been the best of friends with her, Grace's untimely death had affected Rachel in ways no one would ever know. It always left her wondering..why Grace? Why a perfectly fine person in the prime of life, with a husband, a daughter. Why didn't somebody else die in a car crash? Why Grace? But Rachel shook those thoughts out of her head and asked Monica the one question Alana had asked her to ask. "So..do you ever think about Chandler at all, now that you're in contact with Alana?"

Monica was silent for a long while, but Rachel could see the conflict in her eyes. "I suppose," Monica said finally, quietly. "It's just..he hurt me so badly, I try not to let him enter my thoughts. But now with Alana in the picture...it almost makes me wonder if I made a mistake fifteen years ago, telling him I never wanted to see him again."
"You really think so?" Rachel asked.

Monica was silent again, but finally, Rachel heard her soft reply, "Yeah, I really do."

Little did Rachel and Monica know, Alana had told her father she was "going to the bathroom" and she'd heard what Monica had just said. But as soon as Monica finished talking, Alana came over. "Monica?" she said nervously, "I'm Alana. Alana Bing."

Rachel had never seen anyone look so shocked. "Alana?" Monica sputtered, "But you..you don't live here! What are you doing here?"

Rachel took over for a second. "Mon," she said softly, hoping Monica wouldn't be too angry with her, "You're not the only one whose been in contact with Alana. Right after she started communicating with you, she found me."

"I'm here with my dad for a work conference," Alana said, "and..Rachel helped me set this up."

"But why?" Monica asked.

"Because," Alana said firmly, "I know what my dad did, and I know it was wrong and horrible. But I also know he stills loves you. And I'm pretty sure you still love him. And if two people love each other, they should be together. I'm giving you guys that opportunity."

"Does your dad-"

Monica's sentence was interrupted as Chandler came up behind Alana, "Alana who on Earth-" suddenly his face went slack, "Monica? Rachel?"

"Dad," Alana said slowly, "I think you know Monica Geller. And her friend, Rachel Green."

"I do, but...Alana, how do you know them?"

Instead of answering his question, Alana beckoned Rachel to get up. "Dad," she said, "I think I'll let Monica explain the rest. Plus you two have got some other issues to deal with. Rachel and I are gonna go. I'll see you back at the hotel." With that, Alana and Rachel left, leaving a stunned and confused Chandler and Monica behind.

Chandler looked at Monica, all the color still gone from his face. "You, um, know my daughter?" he asked slowly.

Monica beckoned for him to sit down and he did. She explained about the e-mails and how she and Alana had come to be friends. A smile grew on Chandler's face as he began to realize just why his daughter had seemed so much happier these past few weeks. "What I don't understand, though," Monica said, "is how she knows about us."

All the color that had come back into Chandler's face quickly drained. "She...she knows about us?" he asked.

Monica nodded, realizing Chandler had missed that part of the conversation. "My guess is that Rachel told her," she said quietly. She sighed inwardly, wondering how she was staying so calm, with all that had happened in the past few minutes. Part of her wanted to ring Chandler's neck-for all the pain he'd caused her in the past fifteen years. But another part of her argued back that despite everything he'd done-every little bit of pain he'd caused her, Alana had been right. She did still love him. But now, as she looked at him, sitting across from her, she wasn't sure what to feel. She'd never felt more conflicted in her life.

"Maybe this isn't the best time or place to say it," Chandler finally said softly, interrupting Monica's thoughts, "But I've, um, I've missed you." Monica was silent for a long time. "Yeah," Chandler said softly, to himself more than anyone else, "I guess it's not the time, huh?"

Monica shook her head, her pent-up anger getting the better of her, "Chandler, I'm sorry," she said, "I can't do this." With that, she picked up her purse and fled the restaurant, leaving Chandler to bury his face in his hands, wondering if he'd ever get all he'd ever wanted-a second chance.

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