2005
Chandler walked quickly down the hospital hallway, checking room numbers as he passed, his mind a blur.
He'd reread 'Noon Shadow' on the plane, tucking it inside Keith's notebook... embarrassed to be seen reading his own book.
But Keith had been right, and Chandler had been blind.
He'd written "a poignant and terrifying love letter"... to Megan.
Without even realizing it.
This had gotten out of hand. Way, way, way out of hand. Had he seriously been joking about biting her butt? While his wife was off weeping over her sick father?
"Asshole, asshole, *asshole*," he muttered angrily to himself before stopping short.
Rachel was sitting cross-legged outside Jack's hospital room, Emma sleeping in her lap.
"Hey," he whispered.
"Hey," she smiled back. "Ben's in there now. Ross and Judy went to get some dinner... I think Mon had to pee."
"I figured he'd be in the ICU," Chandler said, setting his duffel bag down and sitting next to Rachel.
"Well, he was. They moved him since he's doing so much better now."
"They... wait. When did this happen?"
Rachel bit her lip. "Um... two days ago."
"Two days..." Chandler began, then lowered his voice. "Two days ago? Seriously? Why didn't anyone call me sooner? I would have been here... god, Monica must have been a wreck!"
"Well, your cellphone was out of range," Rachel said carefully.
"But... I left a message at the apartment... I told her I'd gone up to the house..."
Rachel sighed. "I don't think she got that message, Chandler. She hasn't been home much."
"Damn," Chandler groaned. "I wish I'd known. Is Monica okay?"
No, not really, she's leaving you for Richard. You flew home to get dumped. Welcome back!
Rachel looked into Chandler's eyes and sighed. It felt like betrayal, but she just couldn't tell him. Monica would do that soon enough.
"I think she's okay," Rachel finally said helplessly.
Monica returned from the bathroom, tucking in her shirt, and Rachel felt herself going smaller, preparing for the outburst to come. But Monica just smiled and took Chandler's hand, whispering in his ear.
What the hell?
Monica pulled Chandler down the hall, and Rachel cradled Emma a little tighter.
"Ems... I can't watch," she whispered.
***
"Chandler, I have something to tell you..."
"I have something to tell you too, Mon. I'm really sorry you didn't get my message... you must have been worried sick! I went up to the house for two days... and I can explain why..."
"I know that," Monica smiled. "It's okay."
"It... it is?"
"It doesn't matter," Monica stated. "None of it matters. Chandler... we did it."
"We did... what?"
"I'm pregnant."
"Oh my god! I thought you couldn't..."
"Well, the odds were really, really low... especially, y'know, with your problem added in to mine. But we... we beat the odds. We did it."
"Wow," Chandler shook his head. "Wow."
"So... we're a family now. And whatever happened before... I think we should just push past it. We have a child to focus on... and I know how we both feel about that. This is bigger than us and the stupid crap we fight about, right?"
Chandler took her hand. "Right."
"We're going to have a great kid. And a great family. We'll just have to... work a little harder. We can do that, right?"
"We can do that."
Monica pulled at his hand gently, smiling a little. "You wanna... go look at the nursery? We're in the hospital anyway and dad's asleep."
"Sure, let's go."
Chandler headed off, but Monica stopped him by the hand.
"Chandler? I just want you to know something."
"What's that, hon?"
"I'm gonna do a really great job at this. You'll see. I'm gonna... work on everything."
Chandler gave her his sweetest smile. "I'm gonna work on everything too, babe."
***
"Hey," Rachel said, sticking her head out the window. "You couldn't sleep either?"
"Not really," Chandler sighed, cracking his back against the brick of the balcony. "I thought I'd come out here for a while."
"Mind if I join you?"
"Not at all." Chandler smiled as Rachel pulled herself through the window. "Kinda makes it feel like Days of Yore."
"Yeah, I miss the Days of Yore, too."
Chandler waited until Rachel had settled herself beside him. "Hey Rach... can I ask you a question? Like, a private, balcony-only question?"
"Sure..." she winced, mentally begging him not to ask her about Richard.
"When you chose between Joey and Ross... how'd you do it?"
Rachel looked out at the lights, hugging her knees to her.
"That was the hardest choice I ever made, you know."
"Yeah, I... kinda guessed... I was just sort of wondering what went through your mind."
"Well, basically... *Emma* was what went through my mind. If it was just me, I... I would have liked to have given things with Joey a chance, at least. But Ross was Emma's father, and if I had a chance to fix that, I had to take it... for Emma. And Ross and I... we make it work, we work hard to make it work."
Chandler watched her face. Rachel sighed.
"I guess the thing is... with Joey, I thought maybe... maybe that could be something I wouldn't have to work so hard at. I don't know if that's good, I mean... maybe I'm just lazy. But Joey and I... we just... *flowed* better than Ross and I do. I liked the person I was with Joey... he made me feel, I don't know. More mellow, more fun. Less uptight, less nervous. It's like... Ross was like caffiene, you know? Made me all hyped-up and twittery. And Joey... well, he was sort of like human Prozac."
She bit her lip. "Everyone teases him about being stupid, right? Well, sometimes... sometimes I think he's the *least* stupid of all of us... when it comes to the stuff that really matters."
Chandler smiled. "I know what you mean."
"It's just... here I was, with this decision. And I knew, I mean, this sounds horrible, please god don't ever repeat this, but... but I knew Joey could handle it and Ross couldn't. I knew Joey would *understand*. You know how he feels about families. And he did, y'know, he was so great, he just backed away, never put me on a guilt trip, was always supportive, even when I knew... I *knew*... that it was hurting him. And Ross, well... you saw Ross... I mean, it didn't matter that he'd been kissing Charlie like, five seconds earlier, he was all flipping out and screaming. It's just... I mean, it's kinda ironic... one of the reasons I picked Ross was because I knew Joey could handle it... but *watching* Joey handle it just made me want him more. Is that crazy?"
"No, I think I'd feel the same way..."
"It's just... Joey is so... Joey. You lived with him, you know what I mean... probably better than anyone. Whenever you're with him, he just... adores you, right? It's like... every time I walked into a room he was in, I just felt this... rush of warmth from him. And Ross, Ross is sweet too, god, he's done so many really, really sweet things, but he's... prickly, you know? Sometimes I get so tired of walking on eggshells. Joey was always... well... if Joey was mad at you, you really did something wrong... you know? Sometimes I'm so frustrated, so angry, trying so hard to keep it in... and I walk in Emma's room, and there's Hugsy, on a chair or something... and I wonder if I did the right thing."
She hugged her knees harder. "But I did. I did do the right thing. Joey's gonna meet some actress, he's gonna forget all about me, he's gonna be really happy."
Chandler found himself almost telling her what Joey had called Megan, but he swallowed it down. Rachel didn't need that... didn't need that at all.
"Do you still think about him? Does it still hurt?"
"You want the truth? I get the feeling you're not gonna like it."
"Yeah, gimme."
"Okay, then... every day. And like hell."
"But you have your family."
"Yes," Rachel said firmly. "I have my family. That's worth it."
"And hey," Rachel added sarcastically, "I mean, living out in Hollywood, surrounded by famous actors, going to movie premieres... how miserable would I have been, huh? It's *way* better that I'm living on campus at Harvard, where I have *so* much in common with *everyone*."
"You hate Boston."
"I don't hate *Boston*. I hate *living* in Boston. God, I just... I just miss you guys so much."
"We miss you too, Rach. It's just... *sucked* since everyone moved away. Do you know there are new people on our couch at the coffeeshop? They're all 'young' and 'hip' and I pretty much want to punch them every time I go in there."
"Chandler?"
"Yeah?"
"Were you indirectly asking me for advice?"
"Yeah."
"And did you get any out of what I said?"
"Yes, I did."
Rachel reached over and squeezed his hand. "You're going to be a great daddy."
Chandler swallowed. "I'm gonna do what it takes to be one."
***
"Hello?"
Monica's hand tightened around the receiver. Just hearing his voice made her heart ache.
"Richard... it's Monica."
"Hey, hon."
"Hey," she whispered, pressing her hand up against the glass of the door, watching the raindrops pool on the metal.
"You're calling me from a payphone."
"Yes..."
"So you're back together with Chandler."
"I'm pregnant."
"Well, that explains a lot."
"Richard... I..."
"Mon... I expected this. It's not like it hasn't happened before. Don't beat yourself up about it."
"Richard... I didn't... I didn't want to hurt you..."
"Monica. Mon. Honey. Congratulations. You're going to be a great mom, I just know it."
"I... I don't know what to say..."
"I think... traditionally... the word most often used in these situations... is 'goodbye'."
"Goodbye, Richard."
"Goodbye, Monica."
Monica hung the receiver up and began sobbing into her hands.
***
Megan walked between the fluffy pastel displays, trying to ignore what was currently violating her eardrums... a crappy, synthesized, Muzak version of "You've Got To Hide Your Love Away", by the Beatles.
"Irony is alive and bleeding in the diaper aisle at Target," she muttered to herself, pulling her purse higher up on her shoulder and plucking a tiny pink hoodie out of a rack.
Somehow, she just couldn't imagine a child of Chandler's wearing fluffy pink with bunnies, but she wasn't sure how well the black "Foolish Mortals, I Will Destroy You All" onesie she'd salivated over at 'Hot Topic' would go over with Monica.
She slid the hoodie back amongst the others, sighing to herself. It had been so much easier picking out things for her friends' babies... she'd basically run through the aisles throwing everything cute or amusing that caught her eye into her buggy on a doped-up estrogen-induced smallness spree.
But this gift... this had to speak volumes. This had to say "I couldn't be more ecstatic about your pregnancy, yet I'm maintaining a polite and disinterested distance!"
And quite frankly, she hadn't found a pair of small socks that said that yet.
"Megan?"
She whirled, hands full of hippo booties, towards the source of the voice. "Hey, Keith."
"Something you're not telling me?"
"I'm picking up something for Chandler's kid," she said, setting the booties down and tucking a strand of hair behind her ears. "Haven't really found anything yet."
"Are they registered here?" Keith asked, leaning against a rack of teeny-weeny sunglasses.
"No... but we don't have any of the stores they're registered *at*."
"What's his wife like? I've never met her."
"She's..."
The luckiest woman on the face of the earth...
"Really pretty," Megan finished.
"Pretty, huh?" Keith said, smiling a little. "That's all I get? Pretty? You usually leak adjectives... you must hate her."
"I don't hate her," Megan said.
"But you don't like her."
"Well, she doesn't like me," Megan snapped, blinking hard and pulling out a small sweater to focus on.
"C'mon," Keith said kindly. "Put the baby stuff down, okay? I'll buy you a cup of coffee."
***
Chandler painted a last white line of primer across the wall of his old study, wiping sweat from his nose with the hem of his t-shirt and examining his handiwork with a hypercritical eye.
Painting a wall was one thing. Painting a wall for a room that would be used by Monica's *baby*... quite another.
Monica had gone to the airport to pick up Keith, who was flying in from Georgia to paint a mural in here. Chandler hadn't had the heart to warn Keith about the pressure he'd be under.
Chandler carefully put the lid back on the primer and picked up a sheet of newsprint to hold under the paintbrush, carrying it to the kitchen sink.
He had to laugh a little as he passed. Their living room had been turned into a shrine to Pottery Barn Kids... it was a damn good thing 'Noon Shadow' was doing so well.
Monica was obsessed, but what had he expected?
He just wished she seemed happier. Not that things weren't better between them... they were, a million times better. Of course, they were both on their best behavior at all times. Monica had thrown herself headlong into baby preparation, nesting with a vengeance, reading a million books on pregnancy, childbirth, and child rearing. Now it was this mural thing... she was determined that everywhere the baby could possibly focus their eyes in the room would be educational.
Chandler rinsed out the brush carefully. He'd always thought Monica was a little crazy to think that having a baby would magically fix everything... but hell, it seemed she was right. Even Jack seemed to get better faster at the prospect of another grandbaby... he was recovering at home with Judy, who'd been considerably nicer to Monica since the news.
And he'd been doing a lot better at not thinking about Megan... or at least, not thinking of her in any terms other than the extremely efficient assistant she'd threatened... and turned out... to be.
He was a dad now. And that meant everything. As much as he loved Charles... he wasn't making the same mistakes. No pool boys, or swim coaches... or redheads... for him, no way.
"Hey, honey!" Monica called cheerfully from the doorway, arm around Keith, who looked a little dazed. Chandler imagined he'd gotten an earful of what Monica's expectations were in the Porsche on the way over.
"Hi, Chandler," Keith said, and Monica poked him in the ribs.
"Tell him your good news, Keith!"
"I'm engaged," Keith said, giving Chandler a strange look.
"To... tell him...!"
"To Megan."
Keith looked almost afraid, like Chandler would spring over and punch him. Chandler crossed the kitchen and shook his hand heartily. "Congratulations, man!"
"I know it's kinda soon... but I really wanted it, I mean... we've been friends so long, it just seemed silly to wait."
"No, it's great!" Chandler cried. "I like you *way* better than that Brent freak."
"Yeah, he is a freak," Keith said, obviously relieved. "Anyway, I brought you guys an invitation... seemed kinda dorky to mail it when I was coming up here anyway."
He pulled it from his backpack and handed it to Monica, who opened it cheerfully. "Well, Keith... we will *definitely* be there. I know Chandler would love to get out in the country again!"
Monica grinned at Chandler. "Well how do you like that, Chandler? Your assistant and your illustrator. You're like Cupid!"
"Actually, I do owe you one," Keith said. "I didn't really get to spend a lot of time with Megan until I started working on the project."
"Well, that's *wonderful*," Chandler gushed. "I mean, that's just *awesome*."
Suddenly, he could hear Rachel's voice in his head. 'Well, isn't that just kick-you-in-the-crotch, spit-on-your-neck fantastic?'
***
"I still can't believe they registered at Wal-Mart," Monica laughed, reaching over the copy of 'Spiritual Midwifery' propped on her swollen stomach to plump up the bow on Keith and Megan's wedding present. "I mean, seriously, I need to take that girl under my wing. You gotta milk it better than that! What'd we pay for this, seven bucks?"
"Something like that," Chandler said quietly, changing gears on the rental car. "I just don't think Megan's really into china patterns and stuff."
"Where is this church, anyway? We've been driving forever."
"It's not a church. It's a park."
"Oh, outdoors? That's nice." Monica chewed her lip. "I hope there's a place I can pee."
"I'm sure there is." Monica went back to her book, and Chandler turned down a gravel road, passing picnic tables and iron grills before pulling up in a large, chaotic clearing.
The picnic tables had been covered in white tablecloths, but otherwise, the place was a mass of color... children running around shrieking, people laughing and talking, live bluegrass music floating over from a little raised stage.
"That's Megan's dad's band," Chandler said, pointing for Monica.
"Is it a wedding or a hoedown?" Monica laughed.
"Knowing Megan? Probably a little bit of both."
"Hey, you made it!" Keith cried, coming towards them with hand outstretched.
Chandler couldn't help but glance at Monica's face for her reaction. Keith wasn't wearing a tux, or even a suit... just a white dress shirt, open at the collar and rolled up at the sleeves, and black dress pants above his neon green Doc Martens. Chandler noticed that a discreet bobby pin kept his bangs from flopping. To her credit, Monica merely smiled politely.
Chandler shook Keith's hand heartily, and Keith grinned at them both. "Come say hi to Megan -- she'll be so happy that you made it!"
"We can say hi to her? Isn't she hiding somewhere?" Monica asked.
"She'd miss half the party if she did," Keith laughed, leading them towards the swarming mass of people.
A woman moved towards the teeming buffet, and Chandler got his first glimpse of Megan.
Breathe, dammit, breathe. Monica is *right* next to you. Breathe!
Megan was barefoot, wearing an embroidered white Ao Dai, clutching a can of Diet Coke and laughing at something one of her bridesmaids had said. She leaned down, and Chandler saw the reason... a small girl had approached her, offering up a clover chain.
"Thank you!" Megan said. "It's gorgeous! Put it on my head, okay?"
Megan bowed her head, and the little girl did so, sticking out her tongue in concentration, moving Megan's curls aside studiously to get the placement just perfect.
Megan swooped the little girl up in her arms. "Thanks, sweetie. You know, I knew my outfit was missing something, but I just didn't know what it was."
"I got popsicle on you," the little girl said mournfully.
"Honey, I'm gonna eat *barbecue* in this. Believe me, in twenty minutes, nobody's gonna notice some teeny-weeny-tiny popsicle spot... I'm gonna be red from *here* to *here*."
"You should use your napkin," the girl said solemnly.
"You're right! I should! Very wise."
"Hey, honey," Keith said, kissing her on the cheek. "Chandler and Monica are here."
Megan set the little girl down and ran over to them, bare feet swishing in the grass. "Hey, you guys! I'm so glad you could make it!"
She pointed at Monica's stomach. "Look at you! Big Momma!"
"Hopefully not *too* much bigger," Monica grinned. "I already feel like a whale."
"Then make this lazy bastard do stuff for you," Megan laughed, hitting Chandler lightly on the arm.
"Oh, I already do," Monica smiled.
"Good," Megan said, turning to Chandler for the first time. "Hey, you big lug."
"What's up, midget," he replied, giving her a carefully brief hug.
"When's the ceremony?" Monica asked.
"I guess whenever the minister gets here. He's a little late, but..." she looked past their shoulders. "There he is! Joey, get over here!"
"Joey?" Chandler asked incredulously, spinning around.
"Hey, man!" Joey cried, making his way across the grass in an outfit that could only be described as Neo from the Matrix meets the Chiquita Banana lady.
"You look *awesome*," Megan gushed.
"This weird enough for ya?" Joey grinned, doing a model turn.
"Definitely."
Joey hugged Chandler tight, then Monica more gingerly. "Dude, you're huge," he laughed.
"Shut up," Monica grinned.
"Make the minister do a keg stand!" somebody screamed from across the field.
Joey raised an eyebrow at Megan, and she waved him onwards.
"Okay, so the wedding may be a little later," she laughed, watching him run, his freakish headdress bobbing up and down.
"Keg stands?" Chandler asked.
"Why not? Why do you think I chose a wedding dress with pants underneath?"
"Megan?" Monica asked. "Are there... bathrooms around here?"
Megan pointed Monica towards a low brown building towards the back. "Right by the keg. You know, for efficiency's sake."
Monica waddled off, and Megan turned her attention back to Chandler. "I'm so glad you're here."
"I'm glad I'm here, too," he lied quietly.
Becca sauntered up and tapped Megan on the shoulder. "Hon? They need you to go get into place."
"Oh, okay. Thanks, Becca."
With a last glance at Chandler, Megan ran off.
"So," Becca drawled, blowing a smoke ring. "Is this the shittiest wedding ever or what?"
"I think it's very pretty," Chandler said politely.
Becca snorted. "Right. Do you have any idea how stoned the bride is?"
"Megan's high?"
"Yup. I gave her three Percocet from when I got my wisdom teeth taken out... she's feelin' nothin', right about now."
"Why would you do that?"
"Well... considering that she spent her bachelorette party crying... and this morning crying... but she's too much of a pussy to get herself out of this situation... I thought it might be best."
"What situation?"
Becca stomped on her cigarette butt. "You know, every time I think you're pretty cool, you say something deliberately dense like that. She's in love with *you*, moron."
"But why would she marry..."
Becca seized his left hand, holding it up in front of his face. "Um, three guesses."
"That doesn't mean *she* has to get married."
"She's thirty-five years old, Chandler... with a seventy year old mother who loudly bursts into tears at "I Love My Grandma" t-shirt displays and sticks clippings about increased risk of birth defects in aging mothers into her birthday cards. What do you expect her to do, pine for you in a nunnery? Keith is sweet, he's been her friend forever, *and* he proposed to her in front of about a hundred of their friends and relatives."
"Ouch," Chandler sighed.
"And if you can't... be... with the one you love, honey," Becca sang, "Love the one you're with... love the one you're with..."
"I hate that fucking song," Chandler snapped. "I've always hated that fucking song."
"You don't act like it," Becca snapped right back. "Enjoy the wedding, Chandler. I know I won't."
And with that, Becca stomped off towards the picnic tables.
***
Chandler took a seat on the picnic table bench and put his arm around Monica, watching the dusk fall as people clambered for a place to sit.
I have a great wife. I have a baby on the way. I'm going to be a father. I do not need or want anything else. I'm going through a midlife crisis and that's all it is. All it is. Anything else is just crazy, totally crazy...
And then Megan's father's band changed instruments and struck up "The Imperial March".
Chandler's eyes bulged. He'd forgotten.
"What the...?" Monica whispered.
Megan came walking in between the picnic tables, alone, her clover wreath still perched on her head, carrying a bouquet of the same orange daylilies that grew thickly by the house.
"Ohhh, that's so sweet," Monica breathed in his ear. "Look at her... she's so overwhelmed, she's crying."
"That's really sweet," Chandler replied tonelessly.
Megan met up with Keith in front of Joey, and they held hands and turned towards him.
"I haven't known Megan a long time," Joey began, "And I don't know Keith at all, really. But they asked me to do this, and I'm flattered."
Megan smiled up at Joey.
"As long as I've known Megan, she's always been laughing. Well, once she was naked and unconscious, but that's a whole different story..."
The crowd guffawed, and a few people hooted.
"Anyway, she's always laughing. And that's how I like to think of her and Keith living their lives together. Laughing a lot and having fun. So I'm happy that I'm marryin' them... to each other, I mean... and Megan told me to keep this really short since she couldn't get barbecue on her dress until after the ceremony, so..."
Joey cleared his throat, waiting out the laughter, and proceeded on to the official words. Monica squeezed Chandler's hand.
"I'm glad he didn't say anything about me being naked and unconscious at *our* wedding," she whispered into his ear.
"You may now kiss the bride," Joey declared.
Chandler watched, stomach in knots, as Keith leaned down and gently kissed Megan on the lips.
"FIREWORKS!!!!!" someone screamed, and suddenly, there were explosions going off everywhere.
"Oh my god, this isn't safe," Monica blurted.
"Don't worry," Becca drawled, leaning over the picnic table, "They almost never hit anybody. But still, duck!"
A roman candle went whooshing over Monica's head.
"Chandler, this is insane," Monica breathed, hands going instinctively to her stomach.
"All right, everybody!" Megan's dad said into the microphone. "You know what it's time to do. But go easy on her, okay? That's my baby girl." He cleared his throat and grinned. "Get the bride!"
Chandler's jaw dropped as one guy after another... and several of Megan's 'friends in uniform'... took the opportunity to give Megan juicy smacks on the lips, many of them actually picking her up and passing her to the next person in line.
Keith didn't seem to mind, either... he'd grabbed a cup of beer and was watching the whole thing indulgently, pausing only once to yell out, "Yo, Thomas! No tongue, man! I give you people *one* rule!"
"What the hell are they doing to her?" Monica shouted over the noise.
"It's good luck!" Becca shouted back, jumping off the picnic table and going to stand next to another guest. "Get in line, y'all."
"Oh, I'm not kissing a girl," Monica sputtered.
"It's for *luck*," Becca insisted. "Well, I do it recreationally."
The linebacker-sized man next to Becca passed Megan to her, and Becca grabbed her by the face and planted a passionate kiss on her, shoving her towards Monica.
"Um... hi," Monica said awkwardly, giving Megan a little peck on the cheek. "Chandler, your turn."
Chandler swallowed hard. Megan looked up at him, a little dazed and swaying.
"C'mon, man, hurry up... after this we get cake," the guy next to him said.
Chandler leaned in, brushing his lips lightly against Megan's, before the guy next to him yanked her away and proceeded to violate Keith's one rule pretty much completely.
"That's a... weird tradition," Chandler said lightly, watching Megan get passed towards the buffet table.
"Joey's head must be exploding from all this girl-on-girl action," Monica smiled.
"Nah... I think he's signing autographs."
Sure enough, a circle of people... Chandler spotted Megan's mom among them... were flanking Joey, shoving wedding napkins at him.
Chandler wondered idly if Delores Mitchell, a soap opera freak, had any idea just what her daughter had *done* with 'Dr. Drake Ramoray'.
Perhaps it was best she didn't know.
***
"What number piece of cake is that?" Chandler asked sternly, popping his head up over Megan's shoulder.
"It's number two, thank you very much," she answered primly before smiling and setting her plate aside. "You having fun?"
No, this is probably one of the worst days of my life... but thanks for asking!
"Yeah, sure, this is great. You totally succeeded in your plan."
"Thanks for the music suggestion," she smiled, popping a rosette in her mouth.
"How's the book coming?"
"Slowly. We've mostly been concentrating on moving. You guys are sleeping at the house tonight, right?"
"Yup."
"I put new linen sheets on the bed and closed the window. I've also had a dehumidifier running in there for about four days."
"Damn... you don't stop being my assistant for one second, do you?"
"Well, considering the way you *grossly* overpay me, I'd better."
"Where'd you move to?"
"We got a little trailer. We're gonna build a house eventually, but we don't know what we want yet... so we're just gonna save up. It's cute, though, and the light's good, which is important for Keith... and I got my own computer, finally. We've basically turned the den into The Creativity Room."
Somehow, the thought of Megan and Keith cosily cohabitating... her writing, him painting... hurt almost as bad as watching them kiss.
"How long are you going to be in town?"
"Just tonight," Chandler sighed. "Monica has an ultrasound Monday, and she wants to put the baby in one of those private schools with a four-year waiting list, so we have interviews."
"The baby's a *fetus*," Megan choked.
"Which means we're running out of time to get on the list."
"New York is weird," Megan declared.
"You just got married in the middle of a ring of pickup trucks, shooting fireworks at your head... and you think New York is weird?"
"Hey, we don't interview fetuses," she laughed. "Or feti? Which is it?"
"Chandler! Chandler!" Monica cried, running over to him. "Put your hand on my stomach! The baby kicked!"
A nanosecond's worth of pain flashed over Megan's face, and Chandler felt a perverse vindication. He pressed his hand to Monica's stomach. "I can't feel anything."
"Well, maybe it was the barbecue," she sighed disappointedly.
"Hey, you guys," Joey called, striding over to them. "I'm stayin' with you tonight, right?"
"It's a wedding, Joe," Chandler laughed. "Shouldn't you be off in the woods with a bridesmaid by now?"
"I didn't tell you!" Joey said. "I got a girlfriend! She's really cool, she reminds me a lot of..." he paused just long enough for Chandler to realize that 'Rachel' had been the last word in that sentence, "You guys."
Joey perked up, throwing his arms around Monica and Chandler. "You, me, Dick and Yasmine! It'll be almost like old times."
***
Monica lay on the exam table, trying not to wince as her obstetrician spread cold goo across her stomach.
"Yeah, I know... gross, huh?" Dr. Peters said sympathetically. "It'll warm up in just a second, though."
She pressed around with the hand-held plastic thing, frowning a little before rolling back to the machine and messing with knobs.
"Something wrong?" Monica asked, raising herself up on her elbows.
"I'm not getting volume like I should," Dr. Peters said. "Stupid thing." She flipped more switches, turned a few dials.
"Oh, well," she sighed. "Watch the monitor, okay?"
She rolled her stool back and began pressing Monica's stomach again.
"Is that my baby?" Monica asked, pointing at the screen.
"Yes... that's your baby..." Dr. Peters replied... but her voice was strained.
"Wow. Hi, baby!" Monica waved at the monitor. "I'm your mommy!"
"Hang on," the doctor said, "I'm just gonna..."
She hit a button, switching off the overhead television, and stared into her computer screen.
"Awww... I wanna see too!"
"Hang on just a second." The doctor began to push Monica's stomach with her other hand, while pressing down even harder. "Let me just get my..."
She returned with a stethoscope, putting it in her ears and pressing it to Monica's stomach.
"What's wrong?" Monica asked weakly.
"I'm just checking..."
"What's *wrong*?" Monica demanded. "I know something's wrong, so just tell me what it is!"
Dr. Peters folded her stethoscope, staring down at Monica sadly. "I can't detect your baby's heartbeat."
"Well try again!"
"I couldn't detect it with the ultrasound, either."
"It's broken," Monica said weakly.
"Mrs. Bing... the machine isn't broken. Your baby should be considerably bigger than it was at your last appointment, and it's actually... smaller."
"Smaller? How can it be smaller?" Monica's voice broke. "How can it be smaller? Babies don't shrink! Why is my baby shrinking??"
"Oh god, I don't want to tell you this," the woman said, and Monica could see that tears were running down her cheeks as well. "Mrs. Bing... your baby is... decomposing."
Monica jerked upright. "My baby is dead?"
Her obstetrician swallowed hard. "From your ultrasound, I would guess that your baby has been dead for about two weeks."
The woman tried to give her a hug, but Monica sprang back. "I have a... I have a... I have a decomposing *corpse* in me? That I've been reading 'Goodnight Moon' to?"
"Mrs. Bing... this actually happens a lot, especially to women with your condition. Usually, the body expels the fetus immediately, but in some cases... like yours... that doesn't happen."
"I have something dead inside me?" Monica sobbed.
"It isn't safe for it to be in there this long," the doctor continued. "There's a serious risk of infection, honey. We're going to have to get it out... and we're going to have to do it today."
"What are you going to do to me?"
"We're going to do a D&C."
"An abortion?"
"It's the same procedure."
"Oh my god, oh my god," Monica moaned, putting her head in her hands.
"Mrs. Bing? I'm gonna give you some Valium, okay?"
"I don'wannit..."
"Yes you do, hon."
"I need my husband. Can you call my husband?"
"Of course, we'll call him right away. Honey, take these. I swear to God, they'll make you feel better."
"Nothing's gonna make me feel better," Monica moaned, rocking back and forth. "Nothing. Ever."
***
"Monica," Chandler said gently.
Monica was staring off into the parking garage blankly.
"Monica, honey."
She didn't move. She didn't blink.
"Monica... sweetie... I need the car keys."
Chandler finally just lifted her purse off her arm. Monica didn't move an inch.
"Honey... let's go to the car, okay?"
She continued to stare at the concrete zoo of SUV's.
Chandler slung Monica's purse over his own arm and hauled her into his arms, carrying her to the Porsche. He leaned her against the car, folding her awkwardly and getting her into the passenger seat.
He drove for a few blocks in silence. "Mon? Have you eaten at all today?"
No answer.
"I'm gonna get you some food. Could you eat it for me? You think you could do that?"
He double-parked in front of a deli, running in and back out with a sandwich and a can of diet soda. He tried to get Monica to take them, and ended up just placing them in her lap.
He restarted the car, shooting worried glances at his wife. "Honey? Could you at least take a bite? Or maybe drink something? Just a little bit?"
"I can't have this," Monica said dully, knocking the soda can off of her lap and onto the floorboard.
"Why?"
"It's bad for the baby."
"Monica... you're creeping me out, really really bad. Would you please... *please*... eat something? I don't know what they gave you, but I think maybe it was too strong..."
"Bad for the baby," Monica whispered.
***
Chandler put the bowl of soup onto the tray and picked it up, careful not to spill the milk, which he'd overfilled a little.
"Monica?"
Their bedroom was dark, the air heavy and stale. Chandler nudged a window open with his elbow before setting the tray on the bed.
"Mon? I brought you some soup. Will you please eat it?"
Monica lay on her back, staring at the ceiling, barely blinking.
He reached out, holding her up, and stuck pillows behind her head.
"Mon, you've gotta eat, or I'm going to have to check you back into the hospital."
He reached out, opening her jaw gently with his thumb, then raised a spoonful of soup and placed it in her mouth.
"Monica... swallow it."
She didn't move.
"Monica... please, honey... swallow it. I can't make you swallow it."
Chandler burst into tears, rolling over to the side of the bed and putting his head in his hands. "Jesus. Jesus."
"I saw our baby," Monica said hoarsely, swallowing the soup.
"Drink some milk," Chandler said, raising the glass to her lips. Monica complied, mostly... milk dribbled from her mouth and down her chin. Chandler wiped it with a napkin.
"I saw our baby," Monica repeated.
"Have some more milk."
"They didn't want me to see him, but I saw him anyway."
"Who didn't want you to see it, Mon?"
Monica blinked. "The doctors who took him out of me."
"You... saw it?"
"Him," Monica said, a beatific smile stretching her pale cheeks. "It's a him."
A wave of nausea rolled over Chandler, and he fought to keep himself steady. "Monica... take this pill, honey."
"What is it?"
"It's Zoloft, sweetie. Your doctor prescribed it."
"Is it bad for the baby?"
Chandler choked, and forced his voice to normalcy. "Of course not, sweetie. Your doctor wouldn't prescribe it if it it were. It's... it's *good* for the baby."
"Well, if it's good for the baby," Monica said, popping the pill in her mouth and dry-swallowing it.
"How about some soup, Mon?" Chandler said. "You should eat it... for the baby. The baby needs food, you know."
"Babies need food," Monica replied.
"Yes... yes they do."
Monica picked up the spoon and began to eat the soup mechanically. Chandler seized the opportunity and ran into the kitchen, stuffing a frozen dinner into the microwave.
When he returned, Monica had finished her soup and her milk, and was waiting patiently. She'd even folded her napkin neatly.
"This too," Chandler said, sliding the dinner onto the tray. "For the baby."
***
"Knock-knock," Phoebe called softly. "Chandler, are you in there?"
The door was flung open, and Phoebe found herself engulfed in a hug. "Phoebe... I am so, so glad you're here. Oh my god."
"Is she in the bedroom? How's she doing?"
"She's god-awful. I just now got her to eat. She's like a zombie. She doesn't know the baby's dead." He paused. "Pheebs... how'd you know? I haven't called anyone."
"Chandler, go to sleep. You look terrible. I'll take care of Monica for a while."
"I couldn't sleep."
"You will, though. You're exhausted. C'mon, lay down on the couch for a while... just rest your eyes." She pulled him by the wrist over to the couch, forcing him down and pulling the quilt over him. "Just rest your eyes. I'll be back in a minute."
***
"It wasn't just that she was fat, the woman smelled like garbage!"
Chandler's eyes cracked open, and he peered over the couch. Phoebe was at the stove, singing softly to herself, crumbling crackers into a casserole pan.
"Where's Monica?" he asked.
"She's in the shower."
"She is? Jesus, Pheebs. You're a miracle worker... how many weeks was I asleep?"
"The Pheebs have done it all in one night," Phoebe intoned, sliding the pan into the oven. "Okay, I'm going for a walk. I'll be back in about three hours."
"You... wh... Pheebs?"
"Bye," Phoebe said, grabbing her purse and ducking out the front door.
Not five seconds later, Monica emerged from the bathroom in her robe. Her eyes were red and bloodshot, but she looked a million times better.
"Hey, Chandler," she said softly.
"Hey, you," he replied, rolling up into a sitting position. "How are you feeling?"
"Like total shit," she replied, sitting down in the armchair. "I need to talk to you."
"God, Monica... you scared me so damn bad! You were... you were crazy last night!"
"I know," she said quietly. "I didn't take it very well."
"Well, that's to be expected... but damn!"
"It was guilt, Chandler," Monica stated.
"Guilt? Mon, you didn't do anything wrong... I mean, you were taking all those vitamins, eating everything you were supposed to... there's no way you could have prevented this!"
"I didn't want to be pregnant."
"What?"
"I didn't want to be pregnant."
"But... Mon... you love babies... you've always wanted babies... you were so upset when we couldn't have the babies..."
"Chandler... just let me talk for a second, okay? I have... a confession." She sighed deeply. "Right before I found out I was pregnant... while you were gone... I was planning on leaving you."
"You were?"
"Yes. For Richard."
She waited breathlessly. Chandler put his head in his hands.
"Oh, Jesus, Monica," he sighed, "I wish you had."
"Megan?" Monica asked sadly.
"I didn't do anything with her, Monica," Chandler said. "I swear to God. But you were right, you were always right... I wanted to. I just couldn't admit it to myself."
"Chandler... do you remember when I said I didn't believe in soulmates, and you said you didn't either?"
"Yeah, I remember."
"I lied."
"I did too."
Monica scooted off the chair and sat next to him. "Are we over?"
"It sure sounds like it, doesn't it?"
"Promise me..." Monica said fiercely. "Promise me you'll always be my friend. I couldn't lose you, Chandler. I would never want that."
"You'll never lose me, Mon," Chandler said, taking her in his arms. "Never. I swear."
"So what now?" she asked, head tucked beneath his chin.
"Now... I guess... I'm going home. And you are, too."
Chandler walked quickly down the hospital hallway, checking room numbers as he passed, his mind a blur.
He'd reread 'Noon Shadow' on the plane, tucking it inside Keith's notebook... embarrassed to be seen reading his own book.
But Keith had been right, and Chandler had been blind.
He'd written "a poignant and terrifying love letter"... to Megan.
Without even realizing it.
This had gotten out of hand. Way, way, way out of hand. Had he seriously been joking about biting her butt? While his wife was off weeping over her sick father?
"Asshole, asshole, *asshole*," he muttered angrily to himself before stopping short.
Rachel was sitting cross-legged outside Jack's hospital room, Emma sleeping in her lap.
"Hey," he whispered.
"Hey," she smiled back. "Ben's in there now. Ross and Judy went to get some dinner... I think Mon had to pee."
"I figured he'd be in the ICU," Chandler said, setting his duffel bag down and sitting next to Rachel.
"Well, he was. They moved him since he's doing so much better now."
"They... wait. When did this happen?"
Rachel bit her lip. "Um... two days ago."
"Two days..." Chandler began, then lowered his voice. "Two days ago? Seriously? Why didn't anyone call me sooner? I would have been here... god, Monica must have been a wreck!"
"Well, your cellphone was out of range," Rachel said carefully.
"But... I left a message at the apartment... I told her I'd gone up to the house..."
Rachel sighed. "I don't think she got that message, Chandler. She hasn't been home much."
"Damn," Chandler groaned. "I wish I'd known. Is Monica okay?"
No, not really, she's leaving you for Richard. You flew home to get dumped. Welcome back!
Rachel looked into Chandler's eyes and sighed. It felt like betrayal, but she just couldn't tell him. Monica would do that soon enough.
"I think she's okay," Rachel finally said helplessly.
Monica returned from the bathroom, tucking in her shirt, and Rachel felt herself going smaller, preparing for the outburst to come. But Monica just smiled and took Chandler's hand, whispering in his ear.
What the hell?
Monica pulled Chandler down the hall, and Rachel cradled Emma a little tighter.
"Ems... I can't watch," she whispered.
***
"Chandler, I have something to tell you..."
"I have something to tell you too, Mon. I'm really sorry you didn't get my message... you must have been worried sick! I went up to the house for two days... and I can explain why..."
"I know that," Monica smiled. "It's okay."
"It... it is?"
"It doesn't matter," Monica stated. "None of it matters. Chandler... we did it."
"We did... what?"
"I'm pregnant."
"Oh my god! I thought you couldn't..."
"Well, the odds were really, really low... especially, y'know, with your problem added in to mine. But we... we beat the odds. We did it."
"Wow," Chandler shook his head. "Wow."
"So... we're a family now. And whatever happened before... I think we should just push past it. We have a child to focus on... and I know how we both feel about that. This is bigger than us and the stupid crap we fight about, right?"
Chandler took her hand. "Right."
"We're going to have a great kid. And a great family. We'll just have to... work a little harder. We can do that, right?"
"We can do that."
Monica pulled at his hand gently, smiling a little. "You wanna... go look at the nursery? We're in the hospital anyway and dad's asleep."
"Sure, let's go."
Chandler headed off, but Monica stopped him by the hand.
"Chandler? I just want you to know something."
"What's that, hon?"
"I'm gonna do a really great job at this. You'll see. I'm gonna... work on everything."
Chandler gave her his sweetest smile. "I'm gonna work on everything too, babe."
***
"Hey," Rachel said, sticking her head out the window. "You couldn't sleep either?"
"Not really," Chandler sighed, cracking his back against the brick of the balcony. "I thought I'd come out here for a while."
"Mind if I join you?"
"Not at all." Chandler smiled as Rachel pulled herself through the window. "Kinda makes it feel like Days of Yore."
"Yeah, I miss the Days of Yore, too."
Chandler waited until Rachel had settled herself beside him. "Hey Rach... can I ask you a question? Like, a private, balcony-only question?"
"Sure..." she winced, mentally begging him not to ask her about Richard.
"When you chose between Joey and Ross... how'd you do it?"
Rachel looked out at the lights, hugging her knees to her.
"That was the hardest choice I ever made, you know."
"Yeah, I... kinda guessed... I was just sort of wondering what went through your mind."
"Well, basically... *Emma* was what went through my mind. If it was just me, I... I would have liked to have given things with Joey a chance, at least. But Ross was Emma's father, and if I had a chance to fix that, I had to take it... for Emma. And Ross and I... we make it work, we work hard to make it work."
Chandler watched her face. Rachel sighed.
"I guess the thing is... with Joey, I thought maybe... maybe that could be something I wouldn't have to work so hard at. I don't know if that's good, I mean... maybe I'm just lazy. But Joey and I... we just... *flowed* better than Ross and I do. I liked the person I was with Joey... he made me feel, I don't know. More mellow, more fun. Less uptight, less nervous. It's like... Ross was like caffiene, you know? Made me all hyped-up and twittery. And Joey... well, he was sort of like human Prozac."
She bit her lip. "Everyone teases him about being stupid, right? Well, sometimes... sometimes I think he's the *least* stupid of all of us... when it comes to the stuff that really matters."
Chandler smiled. "I know what you mean."
"It's just... here I was, with this decision. And I knew, I mean, this sounds horrible, please god don't ever repeat this, but... but I knew Joey could handle it and Ross couldn't. I knew Joey would *understand*. You know how he feels about families. And he did, y'know, he was so great, he just backed away, never put me on a guilt trip, was always supportive, even when I knew... I *knew*... that it was hurting him. And Ross, well... you saw Ross... I mean, it didn't matter that he'd been kissing Charlie like, five seconds earlier, he was all flipping out and screaming. It's just... I mean, it's kinda ironic... one of the reasons I picked Ross was because I knew Joey could handle it... but *watching* Joey handle it just made me want him more. Is that crazy?"
"No, I think I'd feel the same way..."
"It's just... Joey is so... Joey. You lived with him, you know what I mean... probably better than anyone. Whenever you're with him, he just... adores you, right? It's like... every time I walked into a room he was in, I just felt this... rush of warmth from him. And Ross, Ross is sweet too, god, he's done so many really, really sweet things, but he's... prickly, you know? Sometimes I get so tired of walking on eggshells. Joey was always... well... if Joey was mad at you, you really did something wrong... you know? Sometimes I'm so frustrated, so angry, trying so hard to keep it in... and I walk in Emma's room, and there's Hugsy, on a chair or something... and I wonder if I did the right thing."
She hugged her knees harder. "But I did. I did do the right thing. Joey's gonna meet some actress, he's gonna forget all about me, he's gonna be really happy."
Chandler found himself almost telling her what Joey had called Megan, but he swallowed it down. Rachel didn't need that... didn't need that at all.
"Do you still think about him? Does it still hurt?"
"You want the truth? I get the feeling you're not gonna like it."
"Yeah, gimme."
"Okay, then... every day. And like hell."
"But you have your family."
"Yes," Rachel said firmly. "I have my family. That's worth it."
"And hey," Rachel added sarcastically, "I mean, living out in Hollywood, surrounded by famous actors, going to movie premieres... how miserable would I have been, huh? It's *way* better that I'm living on campus at Harvard, where I have *so* much in common with *everyone*."
"You hate Boston."
"I don't hate *Boston*. I hate *living* in Boston. God, I just... I just miss you guys so much."
"We miss you too, Rach. It's just... *sucked* since everyone moved away. Do you know there are new people on our couch at the coffeeshop? They're all 'young' and 'hip' and I pretty much want to punch them every time I go in there."
"Chandler?"
"Yeah?"
"Were you indirectly asking me for advice?"
"Yeah."
"And did you get any out of what I said?"
"Yes, I did."
Rachel reached over and squeezed his hand. "You're going to be a great daddy."
Chandler swallowed. "I'm gonna do what it takes to be one."
***
"Hello?"
Monica's hand tightened around the receiver. Just hearing his voice made her heart ache.
"Richard... it's Monica."
"Hey, hon."
"Hey," she whispered, pressing her hand up against the glass of the door, watching the raindrops pool on the metal.
"You're calling me from a payphone."
"Yes..."
"So you're back together with Chandler."
"I'm pregnant."
"Well, that explains a lot."
"Richard... I..."
"Mon... I expected this. It's not like it hasn't happened before. Don't beat yourself up about it."
"Richard... I didn't... I didn't want to hurt you..."
"Monica. Mon. Honey. Congratulations. You're going to be a great mom, I just know it."
"I... I don't know what to say..."
"I think... traditionally... the word most often used in these situations... is 'goodbye'."
"Goodbye, Richard."
"Goodbye, Monica."
Monica hung the receiver up and began sobbing into her hands.
***
Megan walked between the fluffy pastel displays, trying to ignore what was currently violating her eardrums... a crappy, synthesized, Muzak version of "You've Got To Hide Your Love Away", by the Beatles.
"Irony is alive and bleeding in the diaper aisle at Target," she muttered to herself, pulling her purse higher up on her shoulder and plucking a tiny pink hoodie out of a rack.
Somehow, she just couldn't imagine a child of Chandler's wearing fluffy pink with bunnies, but she wasn't sure how well the black "Foolish Mortals, I Will Destroy You All" onesie she'd salivated over at 'Hot Topic' would go over with Monica.
She slid the hoodie back amongst the others, sighing to herself. It had been so much easier picking out things for her friends' babies... she'd basically run through the aisles throwing everything cute or amusing that caught her eye into her buggy on a doped-up estrogen-induced smallness spree.
But this gift... this had to speak volumes. This had to say "I couldn't be more ecstatic about your pregnancy, yet I'm maintaining a polite and disinterested distance!"
And quite frankly, she hadn't found a pair of small socks that said that yet.
"Megan?"
She whirled, hands full of hippo booties, towards the source of the voice. "Hey, Keith."
"Something you're not telling me?"
"I'm picking up something for Chandler's kid," she said, setting the booties down and tucking a strand of hair behind her ears. "Haven't really found anything yet."
"Are they registered here?" Keith asked, leaning against a rack of teeny-weeny sunglasses.
"No... but we don't have any of the stores they're registered *at*."
"What's his wife like? I've never met her."
"She's..."
The luckiest woman on the face of the earth...
"Really pretty," Megan finished.
"Pretty, huh?" Keith said, smiling a little. "That's all I get? Pretty? You usually leak adjectives... you must hate her."
"I don't hate her," Megan said.
"But you don't like her."
"Well, she doesn't like me," Megan snapped, blinking hard and pulling out a small sweater to focus on.
"C'mon," Keith said kindly. "Put the baby stuff down, okay? I'll buy you a cup of coffee."
***
Chandler painted a last white line of primer across the wall of his old study, wiping sweat from his nose with the hem of his t-shirt and examining his handiwork with a hypercritical eye.
Painting a wall was one thing. Painting a wall for a room that would be used by Monica's *baby*... quite another.
Monica had gone to the airport to pick up Keith, who was flying in from Georgia to paint a mural in here. Chandler hadn't had the heart to warn Keith about the pressure he'd be under.
Chandler carefully put the lid back on the primer and picked up a sheet of newsprint to hold under the paintbrush, carrying it to the kitchen sink.
He had to laugh a little as he passed. Their living room had been turned into a shrine to Pottery Barn Kids... it was a damn good thing 'Noon Shadow' was doing so well.
Monica was obsessed, but what had he expected?
He just wished she seemed happier. Not that things weren't better between them... they were, a million times better. Of course, they were both on their best behavior at all times. Monica had thrown herself headlong into baby preparation, nesting with a vengeance, reading a million books on pregnancy, childbirth, and child rearing. Now it was this mural thing... she was determined that everywhere the baby could possibly focus their eyes in the room would be educational.
Chandler rinsed out the brush carefully. He'd always thought Monica was a little crazy to think that having a baby would magically fix everything... but hell, it seemed she was right. Even Jack seemed to get better faster at the prospect of another grandbaby... he was recovering at home with Judy, who'd been considerably nicer to Monica since the news.
And he'd been doing a lot better at not thinking about Megan... or at least, not thinking of her in any terms other than the extremely efficient assistant she'd threatened... and turned out... to be.
He was a dad now. And that meant everything. As much as he loved Charles... he wasn't making the same mistakes. No pool boys, or swim coaches... or redheads... for him, no way.
"Hey, honey!" Monica called cheerfully from the doorway, arm around Keith, who looked a little dazed. Chandler imagined he'd gotten an earful of what Monica's expectations were in the Porsche on the way over.
"Hi, Chandler," Keith said, and Monica poked him in the ribs.
"Tell him your good news, Keith!"
"I'm engaged," Keith said, giving Chandler a strange look.
"To... tell him...!"
"To Megan."
Keith looked almost afraid, like Chandler would spring over and punch him. Chandler crossed the kitchen and shook his hand heartily. "Congratulations, man!"
"I know it's kinda soon... but I really wanted it, I mean... we've been friends so long, it just seemed silly to wait."
"No, it's great!" Chandler cried. "I like you *way* better than that Brent freak."
"Yeah, he is a freak," Keith said, obviously relieved. "Anyway, I brought you guys an invitation... seemed kinda dorky to mail it when I was coming up here anyway."
He pulled it from his backpack and handed it to Monica, who opened it cheerfully. "Well, Keith... we will *definitely* be there. I know Chandler would love to get out in the country again!"
Monica grinned at Chandler. "Well how do you like that, Chandler? Your assistant and your illustrator. You're like Cupid!"
"Actually, I do owe you one," Keith said. "I didn't really get to spend a lot of time with Megan until I started working on the project."
"Well, that's *wonderful*," Chandler gushed. "I mean, that's just *awesome*."
Suddenly, he could hear Rachel's voice in his head. 'Well, isn't that just kick-you-in-the-crotch, spit-on-your-neck fantastic?'
***
"I still can't believe they registered at Wal-Mart," Monica laughed, reaching over the copy of 'Spiritual Midwifery' propped on her swollen stomach to plump up the bow on Keith and Megan's wedding present. "I mean, seriously, I need to take that girl under my wing. You gotta milk it better than that! What'd we pay for this, seven bucks?"
"Something like that," Chandler said quietly, changing gears on the rental car. "I just don't think Megan's really into china patterns and stuff."
"Where is this church, anyway? We've been driving forever."
"It's not a church. It's a park."
"Oh, outdoors? That's nice." Monica chewed her lip. "I hope there's a place I can pee."
"I'm sure there is." Monica went back to her book, and Chandler turned down a gravel road, passing picnic tables and iron grills before pulling up in a large, chaotic clearing.
The picnic tables had been covered in white tablecloths, but otherwise, the place was a mass of color... children running around shrieking, people laughing and talking, live bluegrass music floating over from a little raised stage.
"That's Megan's dad's band," Chandler said, pointing for Monica.
"Is it a wedding or a hoedown?" Monica laughed.
"Knowing Megan? Probably a little bit of both."
"Hey, you made it!" Keith cried, coming towards them with hand outstretched.
Chandler couldn't help but glance at Monica's face for her reaction. Keith wasn't wearing a tux, or even a suit... just a white dress shirt, open at the collar and rolled up at the sleeves, and black dress pants above his neon green Doc Martens. Chandler noticed that a discreet bobby pin kept his bangs from flopping. To her credit, Monica merely smiled politely.
Chandler shook Keith's hand heartily, and Keith grinned at them both. "Come say hi to Megan -- she'll be so happy that you made it!"
"We can say hi to her? Isn't she hiding somewhere?" Monica asked.
"She'd miss half the party if she did," Keith laughed, leading them towards the swarming mass of people.
A woman moved towards the teeming buffet, and Chandler got his first glimpse of Megan.
Breathe, dammit, breathe. Monica is *right* next to you. Breathe!
Megan was barefoot, wearing an embroidered white Ao Dai, clutching a can of Diet Coke and laughing at something one of her bridesmaids had said. She leaned down, and Chandler saw the reason... a small girl had approached her, offering up a clover chain.
"Thank you!" Megan said. "It's gorgeous! Put it on my head, okay?"
Megan bowed her head, and the little girl did so, sticking out her tongue in concentration, moving Megan's curls aside studiously to get the placement just perfect.
Megan swooped the little girl up in her arms. "Thanks, sweetie. You know, I knew my outfit was missing something, but I just didn't know what it was."
"I got popsicle on you," the little girl said mournfully.
"Honey, I'm gonna eat *barbecue* in this. Believe me, in twenty minutes, nobody's gonna notice some teeny-weeny-tiny popsicle spot... I'm gonna be red from *here* to *here*."
"You should use your napkin," the girl said solemnly.
"You're right! I should! Very wise."
"Hey, honey," Keith said, kissing her on the cheek. "Chandler and Monica are here."
Megan set the little girl down and ran over to them, bare feet swishing in the grass. "Hey, you guys! I'm so glad you could make it!"
She pointed at Monica's stomach. "Look at you! Big Momma!"
"Hopefully not *too* much bigger," Monica grinned. "I already feel like a whale."
"Then make this lazy bastard do stuff for you," Megan laughed, hitting Chandler lightly on the arm.
"Oh, I already do," Monica smiled.
"Good," Megan said, turning to Chandler for the first time. "Hey, you big lug."
"What's up, midget," he replied, giving her a carefully brief hug.
"When's the ceremony?" Monica asked.
"I guess whenever the minister gets here. He's a little late, but..." she looked past their shoulders. "There he is! Joey, get over here!"
"Joey?" Chandler asked incredulously, spinning around.
"Hey, man!" Joey cried, making his way across the grass in an outfit that could only be described as Neo from the Matrix meets the Chiquita Banana lady.
"You look *awesome*," Megan gushed.
"This weird enough for ya?" Joey grinned, doing a model turn.
"Definitely."
Joey hugged Chandler tight, then Monica more gingerly. "Dude, you're huge," he laughed.
"Shut up," Monica grinned.
"Make the minister do a keg stand!" somebody screamed from across the field.
Joey raised an eyebrow at Megan, and she waved him onwards.
"Okay, so the wedding may be a little later," she laughed, watching him run, his freakish headdress bobbing up and down.
"Keg stands?" Chandler asked.
"Why not? Why do you think I chose a wedding dress with pants underneath?"
"Megan?" Monica asked. "Are there... bathrooms around here?"
Megan pointed Monica towards a low brown building towards the back. "Right by the keg. You know, for efficiency's sake."
Monica waddled off, and Megan turned her attention back to Chandler. "I'm so glad you're here."
"I'm glad I'm here, too," he lied quietly.
Becca sauntered up and tapped Megan on the shoulder. "Hon? They need you to go get into place."
"Oh, okay. Thanks, Becca."
With a last glance at Chandler, Megan ran off.
"So," Becca drawled, blowing a smoke ring. "Is this the shittiest wedding ever or what?"
"I think it's very pretty," Chandler said politely.
Becca snorted. "Right. Do you have any idea how stoned the bride is?"
"Megan's high?"
"Yup. I gave her three Percocet from when I got my wisdom teeth taken out... she's feelin' nothin', right about now."
"Why would you do that?"
"Well... considering that she spent her bachelorette party crying... and this morning crying... but she's too much of a pussy to get herself out of this situation... I thought it might be best."
"What situation?"
Becca stomped on her cigarette butt. "You know, every time I think you're pretty cool, you say something deliberately dense like that. She's in love with *you*, moron."
"But why would she marry..."
Becca seized his left hand, holding it up in front of his face. "Um, three guesses."
"That doesn't mean *she* has to get married."
"She's thirty-five years old, Chandler... with a seventy year old mother who loudly bursts into tears at "I Love My Grandma" t-shirt displays and sticks clippings about increased risk of birth defects in aging mothers into her birthday cards. What do you expect her to do, pine for you in a nunnery? Keith is sweet, he's been her friend forever, *and* he proposed to her in front of about a hundred of their friends and relatives."
"Ouch," Chandler sighed.
"And if you can't... be... with the one you love, honey," Becca sang, "Love the one you're with... love the one you're with..."
"I hate that fucking song," Chandler snapped. "I've always hated that fucking song."
"You don't act like it," Becca snapped right back. "Enjoy the wedding, Chandler. I know I won't."
And with that, Becca stomped off towards the picnic tables.
***
Chandler took a seat on the picnic table bench and put his arm around Monica, watching the dusk fall as people clambered for a place to sit.
I have a great wife. I have a baby on the way. I'm going to be a father. I do not need or want anything else. I'm going through a midlife crisis and that's all it is. All it is. Anything else is just crazy, totally crazy...
And then Megan's father's band changed instruments and struck up "The Imperial March".
Chandler's eyes bulged. He'd forgotten.
"What the...?" Monica whispered.
Megan came walking in between the picnic tables, alone, her clover wreath still perched on her head, carrying a bouquet of the same orange daylilies that grew thickly by the house.
"Ohhh, that's so sweet," Monica breathed in his ear. "Look at her... she's so overwhelmed, she's crying."
"That's really sweet," Chandler replied tonelessly.
Megan met up with Keith in front of Joey, and they held hands and turned towards him.
"I haven't known Megan a long time," Joey began, "And I don't know Keith at all, really. But they asked me to do this, and I'm flattered."
Megan smiled up at Joey.
"As long as I've known Megan, she's always been laughing. Well, once she was naked and unconscious, but that's a whole different story..."
The crowd guffawed, and a few people hooted.
"Anyway, she's always laughing. And that's how I like to think of her and Keith living their lives together. Laughing a lot and having fun. So I'm happy that I'm marryin' them... to each other, I mean... and Megan told me to keep this really short since she couldn't get barbecue on her dress until after the ceremony, so..."
Joey cleared his throat, waiting out the laughter, and proceeded on to the official words. Monica squeezed Chandler's hand.
"I'm glad he didn't say anything about me being naked and unconscious at *our* wedding," she whispered into his ear.
"You may now kiss the bride," Joey declared.
Chandler watched, stomach in knots, as Keith leaned down and gently kissed Megan on the lips.
"FIREWORKS!!!!!" someone screamed, and suddenly, there were explosions going off everywhere.
"Oh my god, this isn't safe," Monica blurted.
"Don't worry," Becca drawled, leaning over the picnic table, "They almost never hit anybody. But still, duck!"
A roman candle went whooshing over Monica's head.
"Chandler, this is insane," Monica breathed, hands going instinctively to her stomach.
"All right, everybody!" Megan's dad said into the microphone. "You know what it's time to do. But go easy on her, okay? That's my baby girl." He cleared his throat and grinned. "Get the bride!"
Chandler's jaw dropped as one guy after another... and several of Megan's 'friends in uniform'... took the opportunity to give Megan juicy smacks on the lips, many of them actually picking her up and passing her to the next person in line.
Keith didn't seem to mind, either... he'd grabbed a cup of beer and was watching the whole thing indulgently, pausing only once to yell out, "Yo, Thomas! No tongue, man! I give you people *one* rule!"
"What the hell are they doing to her?" Monica shouted over the noise.
"It's good luck!" Becca shouted back, jumping off the picnic table and going to stand next to another guest. "Get in line, y'all."
"Oh, I'm not kissing a girl," Monica sputtered.
"It's for *luck*," Becca insisted. "Well, I do it recreationally."
The linebacker-sized man next to Becca passed Megan to her, and Becca grabbed her by the face and planted a passionate kiss on her, shoving her towards Monica.
"Um... hi," Monica said awkwardly, giving Megan a little peck on the cheek. "Chandler, your turn."
Chandler swallowed hard. Megan looked up at him, a little dazed and swaying.
"C'mon, man, hurry up... after this we get cake," the guy next to him said.
Chandler leaned in, brushing his lips lightly against Megan's, before the guy next to him yanked her away and proceeded to violate Keith's one rule pretty much completely.
"That's a... weird tradition," Chandler said lightly, watching Megan get passed towards the buffet table.
"Joey's head must be exploding from all this girl-on-girl action," Monica smiled.
"Nah... I think he's signing autographs."
Sure enough, a circle of people... Chandler spotted Megan's mom among them... were flanking Joey, shoving wedding napkins at him.
Chandler wondered idly if Delores Mitchell, a soap opera freak, had any idea just what her daughter had *done* with 'Dr. Drake Ramoray'.
Perhaps it was best she didn't know.
***
"What number piece of cake is that?" Chandler asked sternly, popping his head up over Megan's shoulder.
"It's number two, thank you very much," she answered primly before smiling and setting her plate aside. "You having fun?"
No, this is probably one of the worst days of my life... but thanks for asking!
"Yeah, sure, this is great. You totally succeeded in your plan."
"Thanks for the music suggestion," she smiled, popping a rosette in her mouth.
"How's the book coming?"
"Slowly. We've mostly been concentrating on moving. You guys are sleeping at the house tonight, right?"
"Yup."
"I put new linen sheets on the bed and closed the window. I've also had a dehumidifier running in there for about four days."
"Damn... you don't stop being my assistant for one second, do you?"
"Well, considering the way you *grossly* overpay me, I'd better."
"Where'd you move to?"
"We got a little trailer. We're gonna build a house eventually, but we don't know what we want yet... so we're just gonna save up. It's cute, though, and the light's good, which is important for Keith... and I got my own computer, finally. We've basically turned the den into The Creativity Room."
Somehow, the thought of Megan and Keith cosily cohabitating... her writing, him painting... hurt almost as bad as watching them kiss.
"How long are you going to be in town?"
"Just tonight," Chandler sighed. "Monica has an ultrasound Monday, and she wants to put the baby in one of those private schools with a four-year waiting list, so we have interviews."
"The baby's a *fetus*," Megan choked.
"Which means we're running out of time to get on the list."
"New York is weird," Megan declared.
"You just got married in the middle of a ring of pickup trucks, shooting fireworks at your head... and you think New York is weird?"
"Hey, we don't interview fetuses," she laughed. "Or feti? Which is it?"
"Chandler! Chandler!" Monica cried, running over to him. "Put your hand on my stomach! The baby kicked!"
A nanosecond's worth of pain flashed over Megan's face, and Chandler felt a perverse vindication. He pressed his hand to Monica's stomach. "I can't feel anything."
"Well, maybe it was the barbecue," she sighed disappointedly.
"Hey, you guys," Joey called, striding over to them. "I'm stayin' with you tonight, right?"
"It's a wedding, Joe," Chandler laughed. "Shouldn't you be off in the woods with a bridesmaid by now?"
"I didn't tell you!" Joey said. "I got a girlfriend! She's really cool, she reminds me a lot of..." he paused just long enough for Chandler to realize that 'Rachel' had been the last word in that sentence, "You guys."
Joey perked up, throwing his arms around Monica and Chandler. "You, me, Dick and Yasmine! It'll be almost like old times."
***
Monica lay on the exam table, trying not to wince as her obstetrician spread cold goo across her stomach.
"Yeah, I know... gross, huh?" Dr. Peters said sympathetically. "It'll warm up in just a second, though."
She pressed around with the hand-held plastic thing, frowning a little before rolling back to the machine and messing with knobs.
"Something wrong?" Monica asked, raising herself up on her elbows.
"I'm not getting volume like I should," Dr. Peters said. "Stupid thing." She flipped more switches, turned a few dials.
"Oh, well," she sighed. "Watch the monitor, okay?"
She rolled her stool back and began pressing Monica's stomach again.
"Is that my baby?" Monica asked, pointing at the screen.
"Yes... that's your baby..." Dr. Peters replied... but her voice was strained.
"Wow. Hi, baby!" Monica waved at the monitor. "I'm your mommy!"
"Hang on," the doctor said, "I'm just gonna..."
She hit a button, switching off the overhead television, and stared into her computer screen.
"Awww... I wanna see too!"
"Hang on just a second." The doctor began to push Monica's stomach with her other hand, while pressing down even harder. "Let me just get my..."
She returned with a stethoscope, putting it in her ears and pressing it to Monica's stomach.
"What's wrong?" Monica asked weakly.
"I'm just checking..."
"What's *wrong*?" Monica demanded. "I know something's wrong, so just tell me what it is!"
Dr. Peters folded her stethoscope, staring down at Monica sadly. "I can't detect your baby's heartbeat."
"Well try again!"
"I couldn't detect it with the ultrasound, either."
"It's broken," Monica said weakly.
"Mrs. Bing... the machine isn't broken. Your baby should be considerably bigger than it was at your last appointment, and it's actually... smaller."
"Smaller? How can it be smaller?" Monica's voice broke. "How can it be smaller? Babies don't shrink! Why is my baby shrinking??"
"Oh god, I don't want to tell you this," the woman said, and Monica could see that tears were running down her cheeks as well. "Mrs. Bing... your baby is... decomposing."
Monica jerked upright. "My baby is dead?"
Her obstetrician swallowed hard. "From your ultrasound, I would guess that your baby has been dead for about two weeks."
The woman tried to give her a hug, but Monica sprang back. "I have a... I have a... I have a decomposing *corpse* in me? That I've been reading 'Goodnight Moon' to?"
"Mrs. Bing... this actually happens a lot, especially to women with your condition. Usually, the body expels the fetus immediately, but in some cases... like yours... that doesn't happen."
"I have something dead inside me?" Monica sobbed.
"It isn't safe for it to be in there this long," the doctor continued. "There's a serious risk of infection, honey. We're going to have to get it out... and we're going to have to do it today."
"What are you going to do to me?"
"We're going to do a D&C."
"An abortion?"
"It's the same procedure."
"Oh my god, oh my god," Monica moaned, putting her head in her hands.
"Mrs. Bing? I'm gonna give you some Valium, okay?"
"I don'wannit..."
"Yes you do, hon."
"I need my husband. Can you call my husband?"
"Of course, we'll call him right away. Honey, take these. I swear to God, they'll make you feel better."
"Nothing's gonna make me feel better," Monica moaned, rocking back and forth. "Nothing. Ever."
***
"Monica," Chandler said gently.
Monica was staring off into the parking garage blankly.
"Monica, honey."
She didn't move. She didn't blink.
"Monica... sweetie... I need the car keys."
Chandler finally just lifted her purse off her arm. Monica didn't move an inch.
"Honey... let's go to the car, okay?"
She continued to stare at the concrete zoo of SUV's.
Chandler slung Monica's purse over his own arm and hauled her into his arms, carrying her to the Porsche. He leaned her against the car, folding her awkwardly and getting her into the passenger seat.
He drove for a few blocks in silence. "Mon? Have you eaten at all today?"
No answer.
"I'm gonna get you some food. Could you eat it for me? You think you could do that?"
He double-parked in front of a deli, running in and back out with a sandwich and a can of diet soda. He tried to get Monica to take them, and ended up just placing them in her lap.
He restarted the car, shooting worried glances at his wife. "Honey? Could you at least take a bite? Or maybe drink something? Just a little bit?"
"I can't have this," Monica said dully, knocking the soda can off of her lap and onto the floorboard.
"Why?"
"It's bad for the baby."
"Monica... you're creeping me out, really really bad. Would you please... *please*... eat something? I don't know what they gave you, but I think maybe it was too strong..."
"Bad for the baby," Monica whispered.
***
Chandler put the bowl of soup onto the tray and picked it up, careful not to spill the milk, which he'd overfilled a little.
"Monica?"
Their bedroom was dark, the air heavy and stale. Chandler nudged a window open with his elbow before setting the tray on the bed.
"Mon? I brought you some soup. Will you please eat it?"
Monica lay on her back, staring at the ceiling, barely blinking.
He reached out, holding her up, and stuck pillows behind her head.
"Mon, you've gotta eat, or I'm going to have to check you back into the hospital."
He reached out, opening her jaw gently with his thumb, then raised a spoonful of soup and placed it in her mouth.
"Monica... swallow it."
She didn't move.
"Monica... please, honey... swallow it. I can't make you swallow it."
Chandler burst into tears, rolling over to the side of the bed and putting his head in his hands. "Jesus. Jesus."
"I saw our baby," Monica said hoarsely, swallowing the soup.
"Drink some milk," Chandler said, raising the glass to her lips. Monica complied, mostly... milk dribbled from her mouth and down her chin. Chandler wiped it with a napkin.
"I saw our baby," Monica repeated.
"Have some more milk."
"They didn't want me to see him, but I saw him anyway."
"Who didn't want you to see it, Mon?"
Monica blinked. "The doctors who took him out of me."
"You... saw it?"
"Him," Monica said, a beatific smile stretching her pale cheeks. "It's a him."
A wave of nausea rolled over Chandler, and he fought to keep himself steady. "Monica... take this pill, honey."
"What is it?"
"It's Zoloft, sweetie. Your doctor prescribed it."
"Is it bad for the baby?"
Chandler choked, and forced his voice to normalcy. "Of course not, sweetie. Your doctor wouldn't prescribe it if it it were. It's... it's *good* for the baby."
"Well, if it's good for the baby," Monica said, popping the pill in her mouth and dry-swallowing it.
"How about some soup, Mon?" Chandler said. "You should eat it... for the baby. The baby needs food, you know."
"Babies need food," Monica replied.
"Yes... yes they do."
Monica picked up the spoon and began to eat the soup mechanically. Chandler seized the opportunity and ran into the kitchen, stuffing a frozen dinner into the microwave.
When he returned, Monica had finished her soup and her milk, and was waiting patiently. She'd even folded her napkin neatly.
"This too," Chandler said, sliding the dinner onto the tray. "For the baby."
***
"Knock-knock," Phoebe called softly. "Chandler, are you in there?"
The door was flung open, and Phoebe found herself engulfed in a hug. "Phoebe... I am so, so glad you're here. Oh my god."
"Is she in the bedroom? How's she doing?"
"She's god-awful. I just now got her to eat. She's like a zombie. She doesn't know the baby's dead." He paused. "Pheebs... how'd you know? I haven't called anyone."
"Chandler, go to sleep. You look terrible. I'll take care of Monica for a while."
"I couldn't sleep."
"You will, though. You're exhausted. C'mon, lay down on the couch for a while... just rest your eyes." She pulled him by the wrist over to the couch, forcing him down and pulling the quilt over him. "Just rest your eyes. I'll be back in a minute."
***
"It wasn't just that she was fat, the woman smelled like garbage!"
Chandler's eyes cracked open, and he peered over the couch. Phoebe was at the stove, singing softly to herself, crumbling crackers into a casserole pan.
"Where's Monica?" he asked.
"She's in the shower."
"She is? Jesus, Pheebs. You're a miracle worker... how many weeks was I asleep?"
"The Pheebs have done it all in one night," Phoebe intoned, sliding the pan into the oven. "Okay, I'm going for a walk. I'll be back in about three hours."
"You... wh... Pheebs?"
"Bye," Phoebe said, grabbing her purse and ducking out the front door.
Not five seconds later, Monica emerged from the bathroom in her robe. Her eyes were red and bloodshot, but she looked a million times better.
"Hey, Chandler," she said softly.
"Hey, you," he replied, rolling up into a sitting position. "How are you feeling?"
"Like total shit," she replied, sitting down in the armchair. "I need to talk to you."
"God, Monica... you scared me so damn bad! You were... you were crazy last night!"
"I know," she said quietly. "I didn't take it very well."
"Well, that's to be expected... but damn!"
"It was guilt, Chandler," Monica stated.
"Guilt? Mon, you didn't do anything wrong... I mean, you were taking all those vitamins, eating everything you were supposed to... there's no way you could have prevented this!"
"I didn't want to be pregnant."
"What?"
"I didn't want to be pregnant."
"But... Mon... you love babies... you've always wanted babies... you were so upset when we couldn't have the babies..."
"Chandler... just let me talk for a second, okay? I have... a confession." She sighed deeply. "Right before I found out I was pregnant... while you were gone... I was planning on leaving you."
"You were?"
"Yes. For Richard."
She waited breathlessly. Chandler put his head in his hands.
"Oh, Jesus, Monica," he sighed, "I wish you had."
"Megan?" Monica asked sadly.
"I didn't do anything with her, Monica," Chandler said. "I swear to God. But you were right, you were always right... I wanted to. I just couldn't admit it to myself."
"Chandler... do you remember when I said I didn't believe in soulmates, and you said you didn't either?"
"Yeah, I remember."
"I lied."
"I did too."
Monica scooted off the chair and sat next to him. "Are we over?"
"It sure sounds like it, doesn't it?"
"Promise me..." Monica said fiercely. "Promise me you'll always be my friend. I couldn't lose you, Chandler. I would never want that."
"You'll never lose me, Mon," Chandler said, taking her in his arms. "Never. I swear."
"So what now?" she asked, head tucked beneath his chin.
"Now... I guess... I'm going home. And you are, too."