Well, we had the sex, now we have the really, really, really strong language. I'm just pushin' the rating limits all over the place. If you object to strong language, you might wanna skip to the second scene.
--------------------------------
2004
"Chandler? Chandler, wake up."
Chandler tried to sit up and nearly cracked heads with Joey, who'd been leaning down to whisper in his ear. The room was pitch-black... Monica was still asleep.
"Joey... what time is it?" He rubbed his head. "What's going on?"
"It's Megan, dude... I can't wake her up."
Chandler climbed carefully out of bed, following Joey into the living room. "Whadda mean, you 'can't wake her up'?"
"I don't know what's wrong with her, man."
"Megan," Chandler whispered, shaking her shoulder. "Megan. C'mon, kiddo, wake up."
He shook a little harder, and one arm slid out from underneath the blankets. Chandler's eyes shot to a little silver bracelet around her wrist... with a red caduceus on the front.
Shit.
He picked up her wrist and turned it over.
"Joey, get me something sugary, right now. A soda or something, orange juice, anything."
"You're thirsty?"
"*Now,*" Chandler repeated fiercely.
Joey scuttled to the fridge. Chandler slid his arm under Megan's shoulders and lifted her up, gesturing with his other hand impatiently. Joey ran back, opening a can as he ran, and slapped it into Chandler's palm. Chandler opened her mouth and poured in a tiny bit.
"Megan? C'mon, open your eyes..." He regarded the can. "Joey, dammit, this is Diet Coke!"
"Oh, shit..." Joey said, eyes opening wide. "She's diabetic?"
"Yes! Help me get her up. No, no, just get her something else, I'll get her up."
Joey ran back to the fridge. "All we *have* is Diet Coke!"
Megan's eyes fluttered, then went still again.
"No, no, c'mon," Chandler begged, pulling her into his lap and holding her up. "Don't go back to sleep, c'mon. Joey, look in her purse. See if she has any of those sugar pills..."
"Where's her purse?"
"Oh, screw it! See if we have any sugar packets! *Anything*!"
Joey ran across the kitchen, and Chandler yanked Megan higher in his arms. "Dammit, Megan, dammit... why didn't you tell me..."
"Just what the *hell* do you think you're doing?" Monica stood in the bedroom doorway, flames shooting out of her eyeballs.
"Monica, not now! Find Megan's purse, find her car keys."
"*Excuse* me?"
"Find her purse! Find her keys!"
"Do you want to *explain* what you're doing in your underwear with a naked girl?"
"Okay," Joey cried, running into the room, hands full of little white packets. "Found some..."
Chandler pried Megan's jaws open as Joey ripped a packet open and poured it carefully onto her tongue. Chandler closed her mouth, and a few seconds later, her eyes fluttered open.
"More, give her another one," Chandler insisted, leaning Megan's head back for Joey. "Monica, did you not hear me? Find her purse!"
"What is going on here?"
"FIND HER FUCKING PURSE!! FUCKING FIND IT, FUCKING NOW!!"
Monica stepped back, frozen in shock. He'd never talked to her that way. Ever.
Joey poured more sugar into Megan's mouth, and her eyes opened.
"Megan... it's Chandler... say something, okay?" Chandler whispered, stroking her hair.
"I feel... weird. Did I... oh shit... so cold..."
"We're gonna take you to the hospital. We've just gotta get some clothes on you, okay? Can you help me do that?"
Joey picked Megan's shirt off the floor and handed it to Chandler, who fumbled with the straps, trying to get Megan's arms through them.
"Meg? You gotta raise your arms up, okay? I can't get this damn thing on you."
"I'm sorry... sorry..." she mumbled.
"That's okay, that's okay," Chandler soothed, then snapped his head up to Monica. "Get her something else to wear, Mon. Something easier to put on. A dress or something, a big sweater, hell... a bathrobe."
Monica stared at him like a deer in headlights.
"Monica, move your fucking *ass*!" Chandler cried.
"Here," Joey said nervously, picking up his own shirt and wrapping it around Megan's shoulders. "We'll get it on her better later... I'll go find the keys."
Chandler stood up, hefting Megan into his arms. "Okay. Joe, get the blanket, too. See if there's any food stuff, ready to go stuff... I'll meet you out at Megan's car."
***
"J-joey?" Rachel mumbled, running her hand through her hair. "I heard a bunch of noise. What's going on?"
Joey looked up from the coffeepot, unable to help breaking into a smile. He'd missed Rachel in the morning. "Just about everything. You want coffee?"
"Hell, yeah. What was all the yelling about?"
"Megan went into insulin shock. I tried to wake her up this morning, but I couldn't... we gave her some sugar."
"Oh my god! Is she okay?"
"I think she's gonna be. Chandler took her to the hospital, but she was already waking up when they left."
"Did Monica go with him?"
"No, she went for a walk. She's pretty pissed off."
"Why?"
"Chandler kinda ended up yelling at her. Y'know, during the whole craziness. Don't think he's ever really done that before." Joey slid a mug of coffee towards Rachel.
"Thanks," she sighed, taking a sip. "God, this is the most screwed-up trip. What the hell is *wrong* with those two?"
The look of total depression on Joey's face made Rachel's stomach lurch. "Hey..." she said encouragingly. "What about you, though? Big hero guy? If you hadn't tried to wake her up, she could have gone into a coma. How cool are you?"
Joey smiled a little. "Thanks, Rach."
"C'mon, Monica and Chandler will work this out. They always do..."
"It's not that. Well, it's sorta that. It's just... okay, look, if I tell you somethin', will you promise not to tell anyone else for a little while?"
"I promise... Joey, what's going on?"
"Well, I woke up this morning, and checked my messages. That's why I was trying to wake Megan up so early... to tell her..."
"Tell her what?"
"Estelle called. I got a job."
"Honey, that's great!" She paused. "Wait. Why wouldn't you want me to tell people?"
"It's a really great job," Joey continued. "Like, a once-in-a-lifetime kinda thing."
"Joey, you're *killing* me here! What job did you get?"
"They've cast me as Henry's little brother on 'Blood & Water'. Not as a guest star, either. Full-time cast member."
"Oh my god!" Rachel squealed, spilling coffee all over herself. "You love that show! *Everyone* loves that show!"
"Yeah, it's a great part. I've got this disease, I'm gonna hook up with Rebecca..."
"You're gonna get to kiss *Rebecca*? *I* want to kiss *Rebecca*!"
Joey laughed quietly. "Y'know, usually people say this to me, so this is gonna be new. Lemme see if I can do a good Chandler."
Joey leaned over the counter, affecting Chandler's voice. "Waaaaaait for it...!"
Rachel blinked, the smile sliding off her face. "It films in Los Angeles."
"Bingo," Joey sighed.
"Oh, Joey... you'd have to move away? Across the country?"
"Yup."
"Joey, you can't go! If we didn't go, you can't go!"
"Whoa, whoa. 'If we didn't go?' Whaddya talking about?"
Rachel blushed. "Yeah, I wasn't supposed to say anything."
"Well, you gotta tell me now..."
"Ross got offered a teaching position at Harvard."
"Harvard? The college? Ross gets wood when he says that *word*!"
Rachel laughed out loud. "Yeah, but he doesn't usually phrase it quite like that."
"Or say it like that, right? He always puts those extra h's in it. Hahhhhhhvahhhhhhd..."
"Pretty much."
"And he's not taking it?"
"Well... we didn't want to leave everybody."
Joey stared glumly at his coffee cup. "Well then... I gotta tell you somethin' else."
"Phoebe and Mike are moving to Mars?"
"Not... exactly..."
Rachel gripped her coffee cup. "Oh for god's sake, Joey. Spill."
"Well... you know how Mike's been writing piano accompaniments to Phoebe's songs, messin' around with that four-track of his?"
"Yeah...?"
"Well, he sent some tapes to Dr. Demento a few months ago. And they're gettin' good airplay."
"Phoebe has..." Rachel swallowed. "Phoebe has *fans*?"
"Yeah, I know! Anyway, they're still talkin' to people... but it looks like they *might* be opening for Weird Al Yankovic this summer. And if that works out, well..."
"Joey, you are seriously not telling me..."
"People *like* this stuff, Rach. I mean, look at Weird Al, look at They Might Be Gerbils."
"Giants."
"Whatever. Phoebe's stuff is *funny*, and Mike's been makin' it funnier. It's not like this hasn't almost happened before... she made that video of 'Smelly Cat'..."
"Wow," Rachel sighed. "So basically, what you're telling me is that Mike, Phoebe, *and* you are leaving New York?"
"Did Ross already turn Harvard down?"
"No, he still has a week and a half to decide. He'd pretty much decided no, though."
"Well, I mean, there are other reasons. Your job, for one..."
Rachel looked down at her coffee cup. "Well. I told my boss at Ralph about the Harvard thing, and it turns out there's an opening at the flagship store in Boston. It'd actually be a little bit of a promotion. She said with New York experience, I'd be a shoo-in."
"Well yeah... but Ben..."
"Carol and Susan offered to let us have Ben in the summers. They were actually pretty excited about it... since Carol's off from school, and Susan wants to do some travel photography..."
"We're all leavin', aren't we," Joey said flatly.
"Well... I..." Rachel let out a little groan. "Ross and I, we didn't want to give you guys up. We're like... an institution, you know? The six of us, down at the coffeeshop. As long as we were down there with you guys... we didn't feel *old* yet, you know?"
"Oh yeah... believe me... I know."
"But now that we're both working and taking care of Emma... and Phoebe and Mike are together so much... and Chandler's writing all the time... it's like we're trying to hold on to something that doesn't... *exist* anymore."
A tear fell down Joey's cheek. "Rach... I don't wanna go. I mean, you're right and all, things aren't like they used to be... but I don't want to give up even the little bit we have left. Why did everything have to *change*?"
Rachel put her arms around him. "Honey... honey. You *have* to go. Like you said, this is a once-in-a-lifetime thing! You get on a super-popular show like that... there's no telling what it could lead to."
Joey cried harder. Rachel squeezed him gently. "Joey... do you really think Phoebe and Mike will stay? When they have a chance to have a real music career, what they've both always dreamed of? They spent years massaging and lawyer-ing for a chance like this."
She smoothed Joey's hair. "Honey... we will *always* be friends."
"No we won't! You guys will get new, professor friends! And they'll get weird musician friends!"
"Oh, c'mon, Joe," Rachel smiled sweetly. "Me? At Harvard? How bored am I gonna be? You'll probably get an unlisted number, so I quit bothering you night and day."
"Yeah, right," Joey muttered... but he was smiling again.
***
Chandler looked up from his magazine to find Megan standing in front of him, blushing deeply and attempting to pull the hem of Joey's shirt lower than it wanted to be.
"They said I could go."
Chandler tossed the magazine aside, stood up, and grabbed Megan in a bear-hug.
"Chandler... thank you... but you're making me flash the rest of the emergency room..."
He let her go, and she squeezed his hand. "Thank you so much... I... well... now you've saved my life twice, you're like a superhero."
"How are you feeling?"
"I'm *starving*, actually... but we're not really dressed for restaurants, I guess..."
Chandler pointed at his boxers and t-shirt with feigned indignance. "What's wrong with this...?"
"Nothing," she laughed. "It's very stylish. My apologies."
"C'mon," he grinned, taking her hand. "We're well-dressed enough for the drive-thru."
"Look, Chandler. I'm so sorry... and so embarrassed... about this morning. I was so stupid... it was totally my fault."
He held the front door open for her. "It wasn't your fault."
"Yes, it *was*. I'm not supposed to get drunk, I know better. Especially not like that." She covered her face with one hand. "I can't believe you saw me naked..."
"Look, it wasn't like that. We were trying to wake you up, not check you out. I didn't even look."
"You didn't?"
"Didn't even notice if you're a real redhead or not," Chandler grinned slyly.
"Well, I'm not."
"I'll keep it in mind."
"I believe you," Megan decided. "There's no way you could have looked and not mentioned the tattoo by now."
"Tattoo?" Chandler said curiously. "A tattoo... where?"
Megan burst into laughter and ran for the car.
***
"Okay, now take a left," Megan declared, pointing one greasy finger towards Chandler before ripping back into her chicken.
"Oh my god," Chandler breathed, parking the car. "This is incredible."
"Mrph," Megan said around a mouthful of food.
They had parked a foot from the end of a precipice, jutting out over a pool... fed by a fifteen-foot waterfall.
Chandler pulled a piece of chicken from the bucket on Megan's lap. "This is freakin' amazing."
Megan swallowed. "I love it here. Could you hand me a biscuit?"
"Damn, woman," Chandler laughed.
"Oh yeah, I know," Megan grinned, ripping off a piece of biscuit happily. "Don't worry, the feeding frenzy will end in a few minutes."
"Hell, rub the chicken on your face, I don't care... I was so worried about you. Besides, that's how Joey eats it."
"I'm sorry I scared you, Chandler. And I hate that you spent part of your vacation in the ER."
"Hey -- I got to read magazines, nobody bothered me, nobody wanted to show me paint chips -- it pretty much rocked the metaphorical Casbah."
Megan dug in the bag for a napkin. "Paint chips?"
"Monica wants to remodel the house."
"Well, that's good..." Megan replied. "You were hoping she'd like it down here."
"Yeah, I was just hoping she'd like it the way it *was*, y'know? We spent most of yesterday shopping for new crap that I hate."
"Did you tell her that you hated it?"
"Oh, are you kidding? I like my testicles just fine in their present location, thanks very much."
"Well, she's not *psychic*, Chandler. How's she supposed to know if you don't tell her?"
"She's not. That's the point."
"I'm confused."
"Monica's... sort of a force of nature when it comes to planning stuff. Once she gets her teeth into something, you pretty much get out of her way."
"Aw, c'mon."
"No, seriously. She turns into 'Martha Stewart From The Black Lagoon'. Like our wedding, right? I mean besides the fact that I got to pick out, pretty much nothing... do you know what song I had to walk down the aisle to?"
"What?"
"'Groovy Kind of Love'. Which was my ex-girlfriend *Janice's* favorite song. Y'know, I'm trying to walk, thinking husbandly thoughts, trying not to stare at dad's cleavage... y'know, The Standard Groom Issues... and all I can hear is..."
Chandler performed the title line, Janice-style. Megan winced painfully.
"Okay, but imagine me trapped in a very small shower with no chance for escape. And leopard-print towels. And I *told* Monica that, you know, but she had this 'greater vision' that couldn't be tampered with."
"What'd you *want* to walk down the aisle to?"
Chandler blushed. "The Imperial March from Star Wars."
"That would have been *bitchin'*!" Megan cried.
"You seriously think so?"
"Hell, yeah! Oh, wow... the look on the guests' faces... if I ever get married, can I steal your idea?"
"Well, sure... I guess. You'd actually process in to 'The Imperial March'?"
"Definitely. Do you have *any* idea how many weddings I've sat through? Bored off my ass in a pew, reading the program like it's over gonna have a plot, watching them light the 'unity candle', listening to the same songs over and over and over? My wedding's going to be so different. I want everyone to leave, turn to the person they came with, and say 'Damn. *That* was fun.'"
"Well, our wedding definitely wasn't *boring*. You should have been there -- Joey was the minister."
"Yeah," Megan sighed, looking out the window. "Joey."
"You guys have fun last night?" Chandler asked carefully.
"Yeah, I guess," Megan lit a cigarette, avoiding Chandler's gaze.
"Okay, that's obnoxious, look at me and talk. Also, gimme one of those."
Megan passed him the pack. "I'm just embarrassed...! You introduce me to your friends, and blammo! I sleep with one of them. Not even on the first date... on the sixth beer. It's not my proudest moment, okay? Although it *is* in the running for the weirdest."
"How so?"
"You're not a quiet man, Mr. Bing."
He paused with his hand cupped over lighter flame. "Ah. You heard."
"Heard? It was like doin' it in stereo."
"Yeah, well, you're not exactly stealthy yourself." He passed her pack back. "So did you not have a good time last night?"
"No, I had a good time. It's just... I mean, you've *told* me about Joey. It's not like the beginning of a beautiful relationship, right? Especially since you guys are going back to New York tomorrow."
Megan scratched her knee. "Does your wife at least hate me less now?"
Chandler froze. "Megan... please, *please* tell me that you did not have sex with Joey because of *Monica*."
"I didn't! I didn't, I swear."
He glared at her, eyes narrowed.
"Seriously! I didn't!"
They sat looking at each other, tension building.
"So where's your tattoo?" Chandler asked innocently, taking a drag.
"Nice try," she laughed. "A girl's gotta have some mysteries."
"Did *Joey* see your tattoo?"
"I would say definitely."
Chandler put on an impressive pout. "See, that's just not fair. Joey gets to see it, and you won't even tell me where it is."
"Well, if you'd spend a *little* less time bringing me back to consciousness and a *little* more time ogling me, you'd know!"
"I'll keep that in mind," Chandler grinned.
"See that you do," Megan replied with mock gravity, then smiled. "Anyway, he won't be seeing it *again*. I have a problem with guys who call me 'Rachel' in the heat of passion."
"Oh, no."
"Oh, yeah!"
"Oh, god," Chandler groaned.
"What?"
"He's still not over that."
"Over what?"
"Oh... he and Rachel hooked up about a year ago. It's not like it sounds... he'd been in love with her for like a year. Ross was... it's a long story. Anyway, there was this *huge* fight. Ross and Rachel go *way* back."
"As far as us?"
"Not quite... although interestingly, a Princess Leia costume was also involved."
"Uh-huh," Megan laughed. "Stop right now, I have incoming mental pictures."
"Anyway... Joey got his heart broken, again. And now he has to watch Rachel and Ross together all the time."
"Poor guy," Megan sighed. "I've been there, that blows."
"Yeah, it really did."
"Damn, your... your friends are really inbred, huh? I thought mine were bad. Have *any* of you not fooled around with each other?"
"Ahhhh..." Chandler scratched his nose. "Depends on your definition of 'fool around'... I think I've kissed almost everyone."
"Joey and Ross?"
"Let's just say I'm... friendly when I'm drunk."
"Yeah," Megan said darkly. "Apparently, so am I."
"Anyway, I think we've learned our lesson, now. I know I have. No desire to go back into that box."
"What?"
"Oh, it was a while ago. Joey was dating this girl named Kathy, and I ended up kissing her."
"Bad Chandler!" Megan cried, hitting him lightly on the arm.
"Oh, I know, god, I know. Anyway, to prove I was sorry, I had to spent Thanksgiving inside a packing crate."
"Oh my god."
"Yeah. She ended up cheating on me anyway. Karma, I guess. Anyway, after that, I had strict policy... if Joey's touched it, Chandler doesn't."
Megan went a little pale, and Chandler realized his faux pas. "Hey, hey, for the friendship thing. That's why. Not like you're damaged goo... hey, I'm gonna stop talking now!"
Megan smiled awkwardly. "Oh no, I was just hoping the rest of the world didn't have the same policy."
"C'mon, you're great. You'll find someone who doesn't call you 'Rachel'."
Megan changed the subject. "So did you have a nice vacation?"
"It was okay," Chandler said. "Although honestly, and don't take this the wrong way... since you almost died and all... this morning's been the best part."
"Damn. Ancient magazines, machine coffee and greasy chicken? You're not saying much about the rest of the trip."
"Well... I just don't think I want to do this again. Y'know, the whole everyone-come-down-here thing."
"Too many friends, not enough wife?" Megan guessed.
"Actually," Chandler sighed, grinding out his cigarette, "Pretty much the opposite."
"Huh?"
"Well, it's... I mean, it's really sad. Back in the day, when it was just the six of us... I was closer to Mon than almost anyone. Except for Joey, I guess. And now... it's like I get along with anyone better than her... even Emma. At least the stuff Emma throws at my head is *soft*."
"I thought you guys were better," Megan said sadly.
"We are, I guess... in a bad way, if that makes any sense. We're fighting less, that's true. But it's mostly 'cause I give in on everything."
"Well..."
"But that's the only way it really works, y'know? It's kind of the way it's always worked. The thing is, Megan, you didn't know me a few years ago. I just... really didn't give a damn about anything."
"How so?"
"I hated my job... I mean, *despised* it. I had no dreams. I thought I had no talent. I'd just sort of let everything burn out, y'know? I cared about my friends and that was about it. I was rotten with women, screwed up every serious relationship. You know what Pheebs told me once?"
"What?"
"She said that I had a big cloud of doom over my head. And that no matter how many jokes I made, how silly I acted, everyone always saw this cloud of doom. I was like that cartoon, you know, where the raincloud follows the guy around?"
"Yeah..."
"Monica's always been different. She's competitive, she's ambitious, she knows exactly what she wants, what she likes, she works for it, she's totally driven. Basically the opposite of me. And when what she wanted was me... oh my god, was *that* flattering."
"I can see that..."
"And it was *okay* that she was so opinionated, because I didn't really have opinions... and the ones I did have were snivelly little weak ones that barely made a 'pfft' sound when she rolled over them. So we got along great. She gave me direction... I gave her no resistance."
"And now?"
"And now, for the first time in a long time, I *care* about stuff. I care about my books, about the house, about getting to talk to you... and I care about all this other crap that I never would have given a damn about before... like what color the walls are." He paused. "Can I have another cigarette?"
"Take the pack, I have a carton in the back." She leaned over the back of the passenger seat for them.
Okay, so the tattoo's obviously not on her butt. Chandler decided to examine Megan's steering wheel very closely.
"Thanks," he continued, still keeping his eyes averted until she dropped back into the seat. "Anyway, it's just... it's all such stupid stuff, mostly. But I find myself getting angry about it anyway. And I never got angry about it before. I don't understand..."
Chandler sighed. "Or maybe I do. It's like, before... I thought I was worthless, and Monica was so awesome. When it was her versus me on any topic, I honestly believed that her opinion was better than mine, you know? And now I feel a lot better about myself... not only am I starting to respect my own opinions, but I'm starting to see flaws in Monica. Stuff that never bothered me before, or that I thought was cute, or whatever."
"What are you going to do?" Megan said quietly.
"Hell if I know. I love her, oh my god, so much... so much it physically *hurts* me sometimes. But she's driving me up the wall."
"Does she *know* she's driving you up the wall?"
"Maybe. I can't tell. She kinda gets tunnel vision sometimes. She can be so empathetic, but then when the empathy's in her way... she can kind of shove it aside. Sometimes, she's *really* selfish... but then other times, she's the sweetest person in the world. Can you tell I haven't made up my mind?"
"Chandler... we should probably get back. It's almost noon."
"You want to come home with me?"
"No... I appreciate it, but... my mom's worried, I need to take my medicine, I wanna shower, I'd like to have on some underwear, la la la. Could you take me to Mom's?"
Chandler nodded, putting the car into reverse. Two fat drops of rain fell on the windshield.
"Raining again," he smiled, backing the car up. "There goes Joey's hole."
***
"Look, just take the car," Megan said, raising her voice to be heard over the thunderstorm. "It's too far to walk in this."
She popped the passenger door and scrambled out into the rain, instantly soaked, her bare feet in two inches of puddle.
Dear God. Why did Joey's button-down have to be *white*?
Megan leaned in for her purse, and Chandler ruled out her breasts as another possible tattoo location.
"Are you gonna be okay?" Chandler yelled.
Megan gave him a thumbs-up and sprinted towards her house. Delores had already opened the front door and was motioning her inside.
Chandler waved to them and drove away.
***
Chandler pushed the front door open, shaking water from his hair. The living room was strangely empty.
"Hello?" he called. "You guys?"
"Hey," Monica said, stepping into the living room.
"Hey, Mon. Where's everybody?"
"They got a cab and went to town. You were gone a really long time."
"Sorry," Chandler sighed, tossing Megan's keys onto the counter. "The hospital took a while."
"Is she... is she okay?" Monica asked carefully.
"She's fine now, I dropped her off at her mom's house."
"Look, Chandler... I stayed behind because I wanted to talk."
Ah, here we go. Her apology for this morning. He smiled encouragingly.
Monica crossed her arms. "I wanted to give you the chance to apologize."
"What?"
"Chandler, do you even *remember* how you spoke to me this morning? Or I should say, *screamed* and *cursed* at me?"
She waited for him to respond, then continued. "Well, *I* remember. And I didn't appreciate it. You will never, *never* talk to me like that again... do you understand?"
"Monica... Megan could have gone into a *coma*. I was a *little* stressed out!"
"Well, I'm sorry you were stressed," Monica said primly. "But that's *no* excuse for talking to me like that. I was simply trying to figure out what was going on, and you *attacked* me."
Chandler gripped the counter until his knuckles turned white. "Mon... you weren't 'simply trying to figure out what was going on'. You were accusing me of *cheating* on you by giving someone friggin' *First Aid*."
"Don't," Monica warned, raising her finger.
"Oh for god's sake, Monica, you're not my *mother*. I'm allowed to curse in the house!"
"What is *with* you?" Monica cried. "Why have you been so bitchy lately?"
"Me?" Chandler screeched. "This from the High Queen of All That Is Bitchery?"
"I am *not*! I'm not the one who's changed here, Chandler! *You* have!"
"You have *too* changed, Monica! You used to be more than the sum total of your neuroses!"
"Shut up!"
"It's true! Ever since we started trying for a baby, you have been more and more... consumed by your quirks! You're one big quirk! Do I seriously have to knock you up to calm you down?"
"You know what? You can't! You *can't* knock me up, okay? So get used to it!"
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"Remember those tests we took? Well, the doctor called with your results before we left New York, okay?"
Chandler paled. "What... why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I didn't want to ruin this *stupid* vacation that you were all excited about!"
"What did the doctor say?"
"You have 'low motility', Chandler."
"What the hell does that mean?"
"You're firing the gun, but no bullets are coming out!"
"We can't have kids because of... me?"
"Pretty much!"
A spasm of guilt ripped through Chandler... then was quickly drowned by a wave of suspicion.
"Wait a damn minute," Chandler said quietly. "*That's* why you're acting like this, isn't it?"
"Well yeah, I'm pretty upset!"
"Screw 'upset'," Chandler cried. "You're trying to get rid of me!"
"What?"
"Oh my god! That's what you're doing! You're deliberately trying to piss me off in every possible way so that I'll leave you and you'll be free to find better sperm!"
"I'm not *trying* to piss you off, Chandler! What the hell are you talking about?"
"Don't *even*. I *know* you. Richard said he didn't want to have kids, and bam! You dumped him. Never mind that the man was *perfect* for you, never mind that you'd never been that happy in your whole damned life... bam! You dumped him on his ass. Then you're with me, and you think *I* don't want kids... but suddenly, suddenly, Richard does... and bam! You're leaving me and running to Richard... but whoa, whoa, wait, it was a joke, I do want kids... and bam! You're back with me!"
"Who are you, Emeril?" Monica screeched.
"Jesus, Monica, why don't you cut out the middleman and get a damn turkey baster? Or just sleep with Joey, like you wanted to in the first place? I'm sure his gun is just *full* of bullets! And nothin' pulls his trigger like another friggin' round of *Enya*!"
"You are not even making sense now!"
"Maybe if you'd quit soaking the bed in *Lysol*, I wouldn't be *sterile*?"
"What the hell are you talking about? How did we go from you, cursing at me, to... to antibacterial *spray*? It's like I'm not even *in* this fight!"
"You know what? I don't *wanna* paint the kitchen purple! And you know what, Ms. Fancy Chef Who Ought To Know Better? Aubergine and Eggplant are the same damned vegetable! Neither of which this kitchen should be, because I like it the way it friggin' is!"
Monica burst into tears and sat down at the kitchen table.
"Oh, yeah, Monica's *crying* now," Chandler muttered, trying to shove down the guilt. "Look what Chandler did. Chandler's such a mean guy. If Chandler doesn't start agreeing *now*, Chandler's a real asshole!"
"Will you shut the hell up," Monica sobbed. "I don't give a damn about the kitchen. I was just trying to *participate* in this stupid *shack* you're so obsessed with!"
"By changing everything?"
"Chandler... damn it... I'm a chef! And maybe I forgot that 'aubergine' was another word for 'eggplant' and not a color, right, but I'm still a chef. And I can't *cook* in this kitchen, okay? The stove barely works, it won't hold temperature, the cabinets are too small for any of our dishes, and the damned refrigerator doesn't even make ice. I was trying to make this a place that *I* could be happy in, too! I thought the point was for us to be happy here *together*!"
"By changing everything about it that I like!" Chandler protested weakly, anger already ebbing.
"I didn't know! I thought I knew you! Since when have you given a crap about cabinets? I thought you *liked* our apartment, and *it's* purple!"
"That... that still doesn't explain why you've been such a bitch to Megan..."
"Oh my god, Chandler! Could you please, *please* try to see this from my point of view? What if I took off for a week and ended up staying with some guy who looked like... like... Antonio Banderas? Who made me laugh when you couldn't, who I wanted to talk on the phone with twice a day, who I let stay in our apartment when we weren't there?"
Monica flung tears from her eyes. "You haven't exactly made it easy for me, Chandler! I mean, you even have cute little pet names for each other! How would you like it if 'Antonio' and I called each other 'Romeo and Juliet'...? You'd freak! And then if you walked in on us, me in my underwear, him completely naked... would you seriously have the presence of mind to stop, step back, and say 'Golly, I wonder if he's in insulin shock?' You wouldn't and you know it!"
Chandler sagged into the other kitchen chair. "God, Monica... when did we get so screwed up?"
"You want the honest answer, or the one you want to hear?"
"The honest one," he sighed.
"When you started writing. That's *the day*, Chandler."
"What do you want me to do? Just stop writing?"
"Honestly? Yes. But I can't ask you to do that."
"If you knew how much it meant to me..."
"I think I do, Chandler. That's why I can't ask. I just wish... I meant that much to you."
"You do, Monica, I swear to God. You do."
"Then why are you doing this to me, Chandler? Why are you flaunting this girl in my face?"
"I'm not... flaunting..." Chandler said weakly.
"I can't ask you not to write. But can I at *least* ask you for that? We're *married*, Chandler. I want... no, I *deserve*... to be the most important woman in your life." She held up her ring finger, pressing her thumb against the band there. "That's what this *means*."
"I just *talk* to her," Chandler sighed.
"So talk to me," Monica begged, reaching across the table and taking his hand. "That's what's *wrong* with us, Chandler. We're talking to other people and not to each other."
"So you want me to... what... just not talk to Megan anymore?"
"I'm not saying you should *never* talk to her," Monica soothed. "Just talk to her a normal amount. A few times a year."
"Do you think that would really make things better?"
"It would make me a lot happier, Chandler."
Chandler entwined his fingers with hers. "Okay."
"Seriously?" Monica's face lit up. "You will?"
"I'll do it," Chandler said, forcing his lips into a smile.
"Oh, *honey*," Monica cried, jumping up and throwing her arms around him. "You won't regret this, you won't."
I already am, Chandler thought sadly.
--------------------------------
2004
"Chandler? Chandler, wake up."
Chandler tried to sit up and nearly cracked heads with Joey, who'd been leaning down to whisper in his ear. The room was pitch-black... Monica was still asleep.
"Joey... what time is it?" He rubbed his head. "What's going on?"
"It's Megan, dude... I can't wake her up."
Chandler climbed carefully out of bed, following Joey into the living room. "Whadda mean, you 'can't wake her up'?"
"I don't know what's wrong with her, man."
"Megan," Chandler whispered, shaking her shoulder. "Megan. C'mon, kiddo, wake up."
He shook a little harder, and one arm slid out from underneath the blankets. Chandler's eyes shot to a little silver bracelet around her wrist... with a red caduceus on the front.
Shit.
He picked up her wrist and turned it over.
"Joey, get me something sugary, right now. A soda or something, orange juice, anything."
"You're thirsty?"
"*Now,*" Chandler repeated fiercely.
Joey scuttled to the fridge. Chandler slid his arm under Megan's shoulders and lifted her up, gesturing with his other hand impatiently. Joey ran back, opening a can as he ran, and slapped it into Chandler's palm. Chandler opened her mouth and poured in a tiny bit.
"Megan? C'mon, open your eyes..." He regarded the can. "Joey, dammit, this is Diet Coke!"
"Oh, shit..." Joey said, eyes opening wide. "She's diabetic?"
"Yes! Help me get her up. No, no, just get her something else, I'll get her up."
Joey ran back to the fridge. "All we *have* is Diet Coke!"
Megan's eyes fluttered, then went still again.
"No, no, c'mon," Chandler begged, pulling her into his lap and holding her up. "Don't go back to sleep, c'mon. Joey, look in her purse. See if she has any of those sugar pills..."
"Where's her purse?"
"Oh, screw it! See if we have any sugar packets! *Anything*!"
Joey ran across the kitchen, and Chandler yanked Megan higher in his arms. "Dammit, Megan, dammit... why didn't you tell me..."
"Just what the *hell* do you think you're doing?" Monica stood in the bedroom doorway, flames shooting out of her eyeballs.
"Monica, not now! Find Megan's purse, find her car keys."
"*Excuse* me?"
"Find her purse! Find her keys!"
"Do you want to *explain* what you're doing in your underwear with a naked girl?"
"Okay," Joey cried, running into the room, hands full of little white packets. "Found some..."
Chandler pried Megan's jaws open as Joey ripped a packet open and poured it carefully onto her tongue. Chandler closed her mouth, and a few seconds later, her eyes fluttered open.
"More, give her another one," Chandler insisted, leaning Megan's head back for Joey. "Monica, did you not hear me? Find her purse!"
"What is going on here?"
"FIND HER FUCKING PURSE!! FUCKING FIND IT, FUCKING NOW!!"
Monica stepped back, frozen in shock. He'd never talked to her that way. Ever.
Joey poured more sugar into Megan's mouth, and her eyes opened.
"Megan... it's Chandler... say something, okay?" Chandler whispered, stroking her hair.
"I feel... weird. Did I... oh shit... so cold..."
"We're gonna take you to the hospital. We've just gotta get some clothes on you, okay? Can you help me do that?"
Joey picked Megan's shirt off the floor and handed it to Chandler, who fumbled with the straps, trying to get Megan's arms through them.
"Meg? You gotta raise your arms up, okay? I can't get this damn thing on you."
"I'm sorry... sorry..." she mumbled.
"That's okay, that's okay," Chandler soothed, then snapped his head up to Monica. "Get her something else to wear, Mon. Something easier to put on. A dress or something, a big sweater, hell... a bathrobe."
Monica stared at him like a deer in headlights.
"Monica, move your fucking *ass*!" Chandler cried.
"Here," Joey said nervously, picking up his own shirt and wrapping it around Megan's shoulders. "We'll get it on her better later... I'll go find the keys."
Chandler stood up, hefting Megan into his arms. "Okay. Joe, get the blanket, too. See if there's any food stuff, ready to go stuff... I'll meet you out at Megan's car."
***
"J-joey?" Rachel mumbled, running her hand through her hair. "I heard a bunch of noise. What's going on?"
Joey looked up from the coffeepot, unable to help breaking into a smile. He'd missed Rachel in the morning. "Just about everything. You want coffee?"
"Hell, yeah. What was all the yelling about?"
"Megan went into insulin shock. I tried to wake her up this morning, but I couldn't... we gave her some sugar."
"Oh my god! Is she okay?"
"I think she's gonna be. Chandler took her to the hospital, but she was already waking up when they left."
"Did Monica go with him?"
"No, she went for a walk. She's pretty pissed off."
"Why?"
"Chandler kinda ended up yelling at her. Y'know, during the whole craziness. Don't think he's ever really done that before." Joey slid a mug of coffee towards Rachel.
"Thanks," she sighed, taking a sip. "God, this is the most screwed-up trip. What the hell is *wrong* with those two?"
The look of total depression on Joey's face made Rachel's stomach lurch. "Hey..." she said encouragingly. "What about you, though? Big hero guy? If you hadn't tried to wake her up, she could have gone into a coma. How cool are you?"
Joey smiled a little. "Thanks, Rach."
"C'mon, Monica and Chandler will work this out. They always do..."
"It's not that. Well, it's sorta that. It's just... okay, look, if I tell you somethin', will you promise not to tell anyone else for a little while?"
"I promise... Joey, what's going on?"
"Well, I woke up this morning, and checked my messages. That's why I was trying to wake Megan up so early... to tell her..."
"Tell her what?"
"Estelle called. I got a job."
"Honey, that's great!" She paused. "Wait. Why wouldn't you want me to tell people?"
"It's a really great job," Joey continued. "Like, a once-in-a-lifetime kinda thing."
"Joey, you're *killing* me here! What job did you get?"
"They've cast me as Henry's little brother on 'Blood & Water'. Not as a guest star, either. Full-time cast member."
"Oh my god!" Rachel squealed, spilling coffee all over herself. "You love that show! *Everyone* loves that show!"
"Yeah, it's a great part. I've got this disease, I'm gonna hook up with Rebecca..."
"You're gonna get to kiss *Rebecca*? *I* want to kiss *Rebecca*!"
Joey laughed quietly. "Y'know, usually people say this to me, so this is gonna be new. Lemme see if I can do a good Chandler."
Joey leaned over the counter, affecting Chandler's voice. "Waaaaaait for it...!"
Rachel blinked, the smile sliding off her face. "It films in Los Angeles."
"Bingo," Joey sighed.
"Oh, Joey... you'd have to move away? Across the country?"
"Yup."
"Joey, you can't go! If we didn't go, you can't go!"
"Whoa, whoa. 'If we didn't go?' Whaddya talking about?"
Rachel blushed. "Yeah, I wasn't supposed to say anything."
"Well, you gotta tell me now..."
"Ross got offered a teaching position at Harvard."
"Harvard? The college? Ross gets wood when he says that *word*!"
Rachel laughed out loud. "Yeah, but he doesn't usually phrase it quite like that."
"Or say it like that, right? He always puts those extra h's in it. Hahhhhhhvahhhhhhd..."
"Pretty much."
"And he's not taking it?"
"Well... we didn't want to leave everybody."
Joey stared glumly at his coffee cup. "Well then... I gotta tell you somethin' else."
"Phoebe and Mike are moving to Mars?"
"Not... exactly..."
Rachel gripped her coffee cup. "Oh for god's sake, Joey. Spill."
"Well... you know how Mike's been writing piano accompaniments to Phoebe's songs, messin' around with that four-track of his?"
"Yeah...?"
"Well, he sent some tapes to Dr. Demento a few months ago. And they're gettin' good airplay."
"Phoebe has..." Rachel swallowed. "Phoebe has *fans*?"
"Yeah, I know! Anyway, they're still talkin' to people... but it looks like they *might* be opening for Weird Al Yankovic this summer. And if that works out, well..."
"Joey, you are seriously not telling me..."
"People *like* this stuff, Rach. I mean, look at Weird Al, look at They Might Be Gerbils."
"Giants."
"Whatever. Phoebe's stuff is *funny*, and Mike's been makin' it funnier. It's not like this hasn't almost happened before... she made that video of 'Smelly Cat'..."
"Wow," Rachel sighed. "So basically, what you're telling me is that Mike, Phoebe, *and* you are leaving New York?"
"Did Ross already turn Harvard down?"
"No, he still has a week and a half to decide. He'd pretty much decided no, though."
"Well, I mean, there are other reasons. Your job, for one..."
Rachel looked down at her coffee cup. "Well. I told my boss at Ralph about the Harvard thing, and it turns out there's an opening at the flagship store in Boston. It'd actually be a little bit of a promotion. She said with New York experience, I'd be a shoo-in."
"Well yeah... but Ben..."
"Carol and Susan offered to let us have Ben in the summers. They were actually pretty excited about it... since Carol's off from school, and Susan wants to do some travel photography..."
"We're all leavin', aren't we," Joey said flatly.
"Well... I..." Rachel let out a little groan. "Ross and I, we didn't want to give you guys up. We're like... an institution, you know? The six of us, down at the coffeeshop. As long as we were down there with you guys... we didn't feel *old* yet, you know?"
"Oh yeah... believe me... I know."
"But now that we're both working and taking care of Emma... and Phoebe and Mike are together so much... and Chandler's writing all the time... it's like we're trying to hold on to something that doesn't... *exist* anymore."
A tear fell down Joey's cheek. "Rach... I don't wanna go. I mean, you're right and all, things aren't like they used to be... but I don't want to give up even the little bit we have left. Why did everything have to *change*?"
Rachel put her arms around him. "Honey... honey. You *have* to go. Like you said, this is a once-in-a-lifetime thing! You get on a super-popular show like that... there's no telling what it could lead to."
Joey cried harder. Rachel squeezed him gently. "Joey... do you really think Phoebe and Mike will stay? When they have a chance to have a real music career, what they've both always dreamed of? They spent years massaging and lawyer-ing for a chance like this."
She smoothed Joey's hair. "Honey... we will *always* be friends."
"No we won't! You guys will get new, professor friends! And they'll get weird musician friends!"
"Oh, c'mon, Joe," Rachel smiled sweetly. "Me? At Harvard? How bored am I gonna be? You'll probably get an unlisted number, so I quit bothering you night and day."
"Yeah, right," Joey muttered... but he was smiling again.
***
Chandler looked up from his magazine to find Megan standing in front of him, blushing deeply and attempting to pull the hem of Joey's shirt lower than it wanted to be.
"They said I could go."
Chandler tossed the magazine aside, stood up, and grabbed Megan in a bear-hug.
"Chandler... thank you... but you're making me flash the rest of the emergency room..."
He let her go, and she squeezed his hand. "Thank you so much... I... well... now you've saved my life twice, you're like a superhero."
"How are you feeling?"
"I'm *starving*, actually... but we're not really dressed for restaurants, I guess..."
Chandler pointed at his boxers and t-shirt with feigned indignance. "What's wrong with this...?"
"Nothing," she laughed. "It's very stylish. My apologies."
"C'mon," he grinned, taking her hand. "We're well-dressed enough for the drive-thru."
"Look, Chandler. I'm so sorry... and so embarrassed... about this morning. I was so stupid... it was totally my fault."
He held the front door open for her. "It wasn't your fault."
"Yes, it *was*. I'm not supposed to get drunk, I know better. Especially not like that." She covered her face with one hand. "I can't believe you saw me naked..."
"Look, it wasn't like that. We were trying to wake you up, not check you out. I didn't even look."
"You didn't?"
"Didn't even notice if you're a real redhead or not," Chandler grinned slyly.
"Well, I'm not."
"I'll keep it in mind."
"I believe you," Megan decided. "There's no way you could have looked and not mentioned the tattoo by now."
"Tattoo?" Chandler said curiously. "A tattoo... where?"
Megan burst into laughter and ran for the car.
***
"Okay, now take a left," Megan declared, pointing one greasy finger towards Chandler before ripping back into her chicken.
"Oh my god," Chandler breathed, parking the car. "This is incredible."
"Mrph," Megan said around a mouthful of food.
They had parked a foot from the end of a precipice, jutting out over a pool... fed by a fifteen-foot waterfall.
Chandler pulled a piece of chicken from the bucket on Megan's lap. "This is freakin' amazing."
Megan swallowed. "I love it here. Could you hand me a biscuit?"
"Damn, woman," Chandler laughed.
"Oh yeah, I know," Megan grinned, ripping off a piece of biscuit happily. "Don't worry, the feeding frenzy will end in a few minutes."
"Hell, rub the chicken on your face, I don't care... I was so worried about you. Besides, that's how Joey eats it."
"I'm sorry I scared you, Chandler. And I hate that you spent part of your vacation in the ER."
"Hey -- I got to read magazines, nobody bothered me, nobody wanted to show me paint chips -- it pretty much rocked the metaphorical Casbah."
Megan dug in the bag for a napkin. "Paint chips?"
"Monica wants to remodel the house."
"Well, that's good..." Megan replied. "You were hoping she'd like it down here."
"Yeah, I was just hoping she'd like it the way it *was*, y'know? We spent most of yesterday shopping for new crap that I hate."
"Did you tell her that you hated it?"
"Oh, are you kidding? I like my testicles just fine in their present location, thanks very much."
"Well, she's not *psychic*, Chandler. How's she supposed to know if you don't tell her?"
"She's not. That's the point."
"I'm confused."
"Monica's... sort of a force of nature when it comes to planning stuff. Once she gets her teeth into something, you pretty much get out of her way."
"Aw, c'mon."
"No, seriously. She turns into 'Martha Stewart From The Black Lagoon'. Like our wedding, right? I mean besides the fact that I got to pick out, pretty much nothing... do you know what song I had to walk down the aisle to?"
"What?"
"'Groovy Kind of Love'. Which was my ex-girlfriend *Janice's* favorite song. Y'know, I'm trying to walk, thinking husbandly thoughts, trying not to stare at dad's cleavage... y'know, The Standard Groom Issues... and all I can hear is..."
Chandler performed the title line, Janice-style. Megan winced painfully.
"Okay, but imagine me trapped in a very small shower with no chance for escape. And leopard-print towels. And I *told* Monica that, you know, but she had this 'greater vision' that couldn't be tampered with."
"What'd you *want* to walk down the aisle to?"
Chandler blushed. "The Imperial March from Star Wars."
"That would have been *bitchin'*!" Megan cried.
"You seriously think so?"
"Hell, yeah! Oh, wow... the look on the guests' faces... if I ever get married, can I steal your idea?"
"Well, sure... I guess. You'd actually process in to 'The Imperial March'?"
"Definitely. Do you have *any* idea how many weddings I've sat through? Bored off my ass in a pew, reading the program like it's over gonna have a plot, watching them light the 'unity candle', listening to the same songs over and over and over? My wedding's going to be so different. I want everyone to leave, turn to the person they came with, and say 'Damn. *That* was fun.'"
"Well, our wedding definitely wasn't *boring*. You should have been there -- Joey was the minister."
"Yeah," Megan sighed, looking out the window. "Joey."
"You guys have fun last night?" Chandler asked carefully.
"Yeah, I guess," Megan lit a cigarette, avoiding Chandler's gaze.
"Okay, that's obnoxious, look at me and talk. Also, gimme one of those."
Megan passed him the pack. "I'm just embarrassed...! You introduce me to your friends, and blammo! I sleep with one of them. Not even on the first date... on the sixth beer. It's not my proudest moment, okay? Although it *is* in the running for the weirdest."
"How so?"
"You're not a quiet man, Mr. Bing."
He paused with his hand cupped over lighter flame. "Ah. You heard."
"Heard? It was like doin' it in stereo."
"Yeah, well, you're not exactly stealthy yourself." He passed her pack back. "So did you not have a good time last night?"
"No, I had a good time. It's just... I mean, you've *told* me about Joey. It's not like the beginning of a beautiful relationship, right? Especially since you guys are going back to New York tomorrow."
Megan scratched her knee. "Does your wife at least hate me less now?"
Chandler froze. "Megan... please, *please* tell me that you did not have sex with Joey because of *Monica*."
"I didn't! I didn't, I swear."
He glared at her, eyes narrowed.
"Seriously! I didn't!"
They sat looking at each other, tension building.
"So where's your tattoo?" Chandler asked innocently, taking a drag.
"Nice try," she laughed. "A girl's gotta have some mysteries."
"Did *Joey* see your tattoo?"
"I would say definitely."
Chandler put on an impressive pout. "See, that's just not fair. Joey gets to see it, and you won't even tell me where it is."
"Well, if you'd spend a *little* less time bringing me back to consciousness and a *little* more time ogling me, you'd know!"
"I'll keep that in mind," Chandler grinned.
"See that you do," Megan replied with mock gravity, then smiled. "Anyway, he won't be seeing it *again*. I have a problem with guys who call me 'Rachel' in the heat of passion."
"Oh, no."
"Oh, yeah!"
"Oh, god," Chandler groaned.
"What?"
"He's still not over that."
"Over what?"
"Oh... he and Rachel hooked up about a year ago. It's not like it sounds... he'd been in love with her for like a year. Ross was... it's a long story. Anyway, there was this *huge* fight. Ross and Rachel go *way* back."
"As far as us?"
"Not quite... although interestingly, a Princess Leia costume was also involved."
"Uh-huh," Megan laughed. "Stop right now, I have incoming mental pictures."
"Anyway... Joey got his heart broken, again. And now he has to watch Rachel and Ross together all the time."
"Poor guy," Megan sighed. "I've been there, that blows."
"Yeah, it really did."
"Damn, your... your friends are really inbred, huh? I thought mine were bad. Have *any* of you not fooled around with each other?"
"Ahhhh..." Chandler scratched his nose. "Depends on your definition of 'fool around'... I think I've kissed almost everyone."
"Joey and Ross?"
"Let's just say I'm... friendly when I'm drunk."
"Yeah," Megan said darkly. "Apparently, so am I."
"Anyway, I think we've learned our lesson, now. I know I have. No desire to go back into that box."
"What?"
"Oh, it was a while ago. Joey was dating this girl named Kathy, and I ended up kissing her."
"Bad Chandler!" Megan cried, hitting him lightly on the arm.
"Oh, I know, god, I know. Anyway, to prove I was sorry, I had to spent Thanksgiving inside a packing crate."
"Oh my god."
"Yeah. She ended up cheating on me anyway. Karma, I guess. Anyway, after that, I had strict policy... if Joey's touched it, Chandler doesn't."
Megan went a little pale, and Chandler realized his faux pas. "Hey, hey, for the friendship thing. That's why. Not like you're damaged goo... hey, I'm gonna stop talking now!"
Megan smiled awkwardly. "Oh no, I was just hoping the rest of the world didn't have the same policy."
"C'mon, you're great. You'll find someone who doesn't call you 'Rachel'."
Megan changed the subject. "So did you have a nice vacation?"
"It was okay," Chandler said. "Although honestly, and don't take this the wrong way... since you almost died and all... this morning's been the best part."
"Damn. Ancient magazines, machine coffee and greasy chicken? You're not saying much about the rest of the trip."
"Well... I just don't think I want to do this again. Y'know, the whole everyone-come-down-here thing."
"Too many friends, not enough wife?" Megan guessed.
"Actually," Chandler sighed, grinding out his cigarette, "Pretty much the opposite."
"Huh?"
"Well, it's... I mean, it's really sad. Back in the day, when it was just the six of us... I was closer to Mon than almost anyone. Except for Joey, I guess. And now... it's like I get along with anyone better than her... even Emma. At least the stuff Emma throws at my head is *soft*."
"I thought you guys were better," Megan said sadly.
"We are, I guess... in a bad way, if that makes any sense. We're fighting less, that's true. But it's mostly 'cause I give in on everything."
"Well..."
"But that's the only way it really works, y'know? It's kind of the way it's always worked. The thing is, Megan, you didn't know me a few years ago. I just... really didn't give a damn about anything."
"How so?"
"I hated my job... I mean, *despised* it. I had no dreams. I thought I had no talent. I'd just sort of let everything burn out, y'know? I cared about my friends and that was about it. I was rotten with women, screwed up every serious relationship. You know what Pheebs told me once?"
"What?"
"She said that I had a big cloud of doom over my head. And that no matter how many jokes I made, how silly I acted, everyone always saw this cloud of doom. I was like that cartoon, you know, where the raincloud follows the guy around?"
"Yeah..."
"Monica's always been different. She's competitive, she's ambitious, she knows exactly what she wants, what she likes, she works for it, she's totally driven. Basically the opposite of me. And when what she wanted was me... oh my god, was *that* flattering."
"I can see that..."
"And it was *okay* that she was so opinionated, because I didn't really have opinions... and the ones I did have were snivelly little weak ones that barely made a 'pfft' sound when she rolled over them. So we got along great. She gave me direction... I gave her no resistance."
"And now?"
"And now, for the first time in a long time, I *care* about stuff. I care about my books, about the house, about getting to talk to you... and I care about all this other crap that I never would have given a damn about before... like what color the walls are." He paused. "Can I have another cigarette?"
"Take the pack, I have a carton in the back." She leaned over the back of the passenger seat for them.
Okay, so the tattoo's obviously not on her butt. Chandler decided to examine Megan's steering wheel very closely.
"Thanks," he continued, still keeping his eyes averted until she dropped back into the seat. "Anyway, it's just... it's all such stupid stuff, mostly. But I find myself getting angry about it anyway. And I never got angry about it before. I don't understand..."
Chandler sighed. "Or maybe I do. It's like, before... I thought I was worthless, and Monica was so awesome. When it was her versus me on any topic, I honestly believed that her opinion was better than mine, you know? And now I feel a lot better about myself... not only am I starting to respect my own opinions, but I'm starting to see flaws in Monica. Stuff that never bothered me before, or that I thought was cute, or whatever."
"What are you going to do?" Megan said quietly.
"Hell if I know. I love her, oh my god, so much... so much it physically *hurts* me sometimes. But she's driving me up the wall."
"Does she *know* she's driving you up the wall?"
"Maybe. I can't tell. She kinda gets tunnel vision sometimes. She can be so empathetic, but then when the empathy's in her way... she can kind of shove it aside. Sometimes, she's *really* selfish... but then other times, she's the sweetest person in the world. Can you tell I haven't made up my mind?"
"Chandler... we should probably get back. It's almost noon."
"You want to come home with me?"
"No... I appreciate it, but... my mom's worried, I need to take my medicine, I wanna shower, I'd like to have on some underwear, la la la. Could you take me to Mom's?"
Chandler nodded, putting the car into reverse. Two fat drops of rain fell on the windshield.
"Raining again," he smiled, backing the car up. "There goes Joey's hole."
***
"Look, just take the car," Megan said, raising her voice to be heard over the thunderstorm. "It's too far to walk in this."
She popped the passenger door and scrambled out into the rain, instantly soaked, her bare feet in two inches of puddle.
Dear God. Why did Joey's button-down have to be *white*?
Megan leaned in for her purse, and Chandler ruled out her breasts as another possible tattoo location.
"Are you gonna be okay?" Chandler yelled.
Megan gave him a thumbs-up and sprinted towards her house. Delores had already opened the front door and was motioning her inside.
Chandler waved to them and drove away.
***
Chandler pushed the front door open, shaking water from his hair. The living room was strangely empty.
"Hello?" he called. "You guys?"
"Hey," Monica said, stepping into the living room.
"Hey, Mon. Where's everybody?"
"They got a cab and went to town. You were gone a really long time."
"Sorry," Chandler sighed, tossing Megan's keys onto the counter. "The hospital took a while."
"Is she... is she okay?" Monica asked carefully.
"She's fine now, I dropped her off at her mom's house."
"Look, Chandler... I stayed behind because I wanted to talk."
Ah, here we go. Her apology for this morning. He smiled encouragingly.
Monica crossed her arms. "I wanted to give you the chance to apologize."
"What?"
"Chandler, do you even *remember* how you spoke to me this morning? Or I should say, *screamed* and *cursed* at me?"
She waited for him to respond, then continued. "Well, *I* remember. And I didn't appreciate it. You will never, *never* talk to me like that again... do you understand?"
"Monica... Megan could have gone into a *coma*. I was a *little* stressed out!"
"Well, I'm sorry you were stressed," Monica said primly. "But that's *no* excuse for talking to me like that. I was simply trying to figure out what was going on, and you *attacked* me."
Chandler gripped the counter until his knuckles turned white. "Mon... you weren't 'simply trying to figure out what was going on'. You were accusing me of *cheating* on you by giving someone friggin' *First Aid*."
"Don't," Monica warned, raising her finger.
"Oh for god's sake, Monica, you're not my *mother*. I'm allowed to curse in the house!"
"What is *with* you?" Monica cried. "Why have you been so bitchy lately?"
"Me?" Chandler screeched. "This from the High Queen of All That Is Bitchery?"
"I am *not*! I'm not the one who's changed here, Chandler! *You* have!"
"You have *too* changed, Monica! You used to be more than the sum total of your neuroses!"
"Shut up!"
"It's true! Ever since we started trying for a baby, you have been more and more... consumed by your quirks! You're one big quirk! Do I seriously have to knock you up to calm you down?"
"You know what? You can't! You *can't* knock me up, okay? So get used to it!"
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"Remember those tests we took? Well, the doctor called with your results before we left New York, okay?"
Chandler paled. "What... why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I didn't want to ruin this *stupid* vacation that you were all excited about!"
"What did the doctor say?"
"You have 'low motility', Chandler."
"What the hell does that mean?"
"You're firing the gun, but no bullets are coming out!"
"We can't have kids because of... me?"
"Pretty much!"
A spasm of guilt ripped through Chandler... then was quickly drowned by a wave of suspicion.
"Wait a damn minute," Chandler said quietly. "*That's* why you're acting like this, isn't it?"
"Well yeah, I'm pretty upset!"
"Screw 'upset'," Chandler cried. "You're trying to get rid of me!"
"What?"
"Oh my god! That's what you're doing! You're deliberately trying to piss me off in every possible way so that I'll leave you and you'll be free to find better sperm!"
"I'm not *trying* to piss you off, Chandler! What the hell are you talking about?"
"Don't *even*. I *know* you. Richard said he didn't want to have kids, and bam! You dumped him. Never mind that the man was *perfect* for you, never mind that you'd never been that happy in your whole damned life... bam! You dumped him on his ass. Then you're with me, and you think *I* don't want kids... but suddenly, suddenly, Richard does... and bam! You're leaving me and running to Richard... but whoa, whoa, wait, it was a joke, I do want kids... and bam! You're back with me!"
"Who are you, Emeril?" Monica screeched.
"Jesus, Monica, why don't you cut out the middleman and get a damn turkey baster? Or just sleep with Joey, like you wanted to in the first place? I'm sure his gun is just *full* of bullets! And nothin' pulls his trigger like another friggin' round of *Enya*!"
"You are not even making sense now!"
"Maybe if you'd quit soaking the bed in *Lysol*, I wouldn't be *sterile*?"
"What the hell are you talking about? How did we go from you, cursing at me, to... to antibacterial *spray*? It's like I'm not even *in* this fight!"
"You know what? I don't *wanna* paint the kitchen purple! And you know what, Ms. Fancy Chef Who Ought To Know Better? Aubergine and Eggplant are the same damned vegetable! Neither of which this kitchen should be, because I like it the way it friggin' is!"
Monica burst into tears and sat down at the kitchen table.
"Oh, yeah, Monica's *crying* now," Chandler muttered, trying to shove down the guilt. "Look what Chandler did. Chandler's such a mean guy. If Chandler doesn't start agreeing *now*, Chandler's a real asshole!"
"Will you shut the hell up," Monica sobbed. "I don't give a damn about the kitchen. I was just trying to *participate* in this stupid *shack* you're so obsessed with!"
"By changing everything?"
"Chandler... damn it... I'm a chef! And maybe I forgot that 'aubergine' was another word for 'eggplant' and not a color, right, but I'm still a chef. And I can't *cook* in this kitchen, okay? The stove barely works, it won't hold temperature, the cabinets are too small for any of our dishes, and the damned refrigerator doesn't even make ice. I was trying to make this a place that *I* could be happy in, too! I thought the point was for us to be happy here *together*!"
"By changing everything about it that I like!" Chandler protested weakly, anger already ebbing.
"I didn't know! I thought I knew you! Since when have you given a crap about cabinets? I thought you *liked* our apartment, and *it's* purple!"
"That... that still doesn't explain why you've been such a bitch to Megan..."
"Oh my god, Chandler! Could you please, *please* try to see this from my point of view? What if I took off for a week and ended up staying with some guy who looked like... like... Antonio Banderas? Who made me laugh when you couldn't, who I wanted to talk on the phone with twice a day, who I let stay in our apartment when we weren't there?"
Monica flung tears from her eyes. "You haven't exactly made it easy for me, Chandler! I mean, you even have cute little pet names for each other! How would you like it if 'Antonio' and I called each other 'Romeo and Juliet'...? You'd freak! And then if you walked in on us, me in my underwear, him completely naked... would you seriously have the presence of mind to stop, step back, and say 'Golly, I wonder if he's in insulin shock?' You wouldn't and you know it!"
Chandler sagged into the other kitchen chair. "God, Monica... when did we get so screwed up?"
"You want the honest answer, or the one you want to hear?"
"The honest one," he sighed.
"When you started writing. That's *the day*, Chandler."
"What do you want me to do? Just stop writing?"
"Honestly? Yes. But I can't ask you to do that."
"If you knew how much it meant to me..."
"I think I do, Chandler. That's why I can't ask. I just wish... I meant that much to you."
"You do, Monica, I swear to God. You do."
"Then why are you doing this to me, Chandler? Why are you flaunting this girl in my face?"
"I'm not... flaunting..." Chandler said weakly.
"I can't ask you not to write. But can I at *least* ask you for that? We're *married*, Chandler. I want... no, I *deserve*... to be the most important woman in your life." She held up her ring finger, pressing her thumb against the band there. "That's what this *means*."
"I just *talk* to her," Chandler sighed.
"So talk to me," Monica begged, reaching across the table and taking his hand. "That's what's *wrong* with us, Chandler. We're talking to other people and not to each other."
"So you want me to... what... just not talk to Megan anymore?"
"I'm not saying you should *never* talk to her," Monica soothed. "Just talk to her a normal amount. A few times a year."
"Do you think that would really make things better?"
"It would make me a lot happier, Chandler."
Chandler entwined his fingers with hers. "Okay."
"Seriously?" Monica's face lit up. "You will?"
"I'll do it," Chandler said, forcing his lips into a smile.
"Oh, *honey*," Monica cried, jumping up and throwing her arms around him. "You won't regret this, you won't."
I already am, Chandler thought sadly.