2008
"Are you sure this is necessary?" Chandler asked, downshifting and watching Monica out of the corner of his eye. "I mean, the three of us can take care of you... help you get stuff..."
"I appreciate it, Chandler," Monica smiled, rubbing her new Aircast, "But I want to go home. Your house has all those stairs... that deck is so slippery..."
"... you want to start decorating the nursery..."
Monica laughed. "Okay, you know me too well."
Chandler tapped the steering wheel lightly, working up his courage. "And what about... what about later? Won't you need someone later?"
"I'll always be sorry Richard missed this, Chandler. But I think he'll be with me, you know? I think that now more than ever. And hey, look at it this way... I get to *totally* run my own baby-show. Make all the decisions, pick *everything* out, no compromises... it's like Monica's Ultimate Thing, run Monica's Ultimate Way."
Chandler chuckled. "At least until the kid can talk."
"I'll cross that bridge when I come to it," Monica grinned, putting her hand over his. "Seriously, Chandler... don't worry about me. I've never been in a better place to do this. I'm doing fine financially, I own my own apartment, I can afford to take the time off work."
Chandler kept his smile at low wattage, careful not to let his overwhelming relief show. "Well, if you need anything... call me."
He pulled in front of the airport, waiting in line for the drop-off area.
"Actually... there is one thing I would like."
"Anything."
"Can I keep this?" she held up a photo. "I swiped it from that box you have. Don't worry, it's a double."
Chandler held out his hand, and Monica slid the photo into it. He held it up to the light.
Him and Megan, during a particularly violent game of Drunken Scrabble. Becca had taken this one, he remembered... he and Megan were on the couch, him pinning her down, her attempting to shove Scrabble tiles up his nostrils, both of them laughing to the point of tears.
"You... of course you can have it, but... why do you want this?"
"You don't look this happy in any of my pictures," Monica said simply, taking the photograph back and sliding it into her purse before grabbing up her crutches and reaching for the door handle. "Thanks for everything, Chandler."
***
Rachel hit her "power" button repeatedly, a low growl of frustration coming out from between her lips.
Joey leaned over from the other side of the cab's backseat. "Don't hit me, Rach, but I think you killed it."
"Wonderful," she snapped. "Breaking a $300 cellphone during my temper tantrum... that's going to cheer Ross up, totally." She grabbed the window knob and cranked the window down. "I was really *hoping* to give him some more *ammunition*."
She launched the broken cellphone out the window, watching it curve in a graceful arc over the guardrail and out towards the lake.
"Rach, that's *littering*," Joey protested.
"Oh, yeah? Well then, watch *this*," Rachel spat, snatching off her wedding ring and holding it up to the window.
Joey closed his hand over hers, wrapping hers tightly around the ring and pulling it away from the wind. "Rach. You'd never forgive yourself. C'mon, put this back on." He slid the wedding ring back onto her finger.
"Do that again."
He ignored her. "This isn't Ross' grandmother's ring, is it?"
"No, he..." she leaned her head against the vinyl and looked out the window. "He didn't want to marry me with a ring I'd agreed to marry you with."
"Understandable," Joey said, fighting the wince and settling back into his own side of the seat.
Rachel twirled her wedding ring around her finger, staring into her lap. "You know... I snuck up on Emma the other day. I'd made brownies, actual edible brownies, you know? For a surprise. And she was in her room, playing with her Barbie dolls."
Joey nodded in confusion, watching the reflected light play against Rachel's profile.
"She had Barbie and Ken... in a fight, you know? And Barbie was whining and whining and whining, and Ken was getting mad and stomping around and calling Barbie names. But when Skipper came down the stairs of the dreamhouse, Barbie and Ken pretended everything was fine."
Joey reached out and touched Rachel's hand lightly.
"And suddenly, suddenly... *I* could remember doing that. *My* Barbies, *my* dream house. You know, my parents stayed married for so long, Joey... and I was so upset when they got divorced, even as old as I was. But sometimes I wonder... what would my life have been like if they were happy and apart? You know, my mom's with Michael now, they're so awesome together... and Cindy's a way better fit with my dad. What if I'd had two happy places to be a kid... instead of one miserable mooshed-together one?"
She played with the lock on the door. "Ben's Barbies *never* fought."
Joey took her hand, squeezed it.
"It's just... sometimes I wonder if Emma is all that Ross sees in me now. If he married me to make sure he would always get to be around her. He went through so much, never getting to see Ben, y'know?"
"That's not it, Rach. Ross loves you." Joey moved a piece of Rachel's bangs back from her forehead.
"I *know* he loves me, Joey. But I think, sometimes... I think he loves me like we all love each other. I mean... if I had to marry Chandler, or you had to marry Mon... you know we could do it, we've been friends for years, there's love, real love there. But that's not how Ross and I used to feel about each other."
She swallowed hard, looking into Joey's eyes. "And it's not how I feel about you."
"It's not how I feel about you either, Rach," Joey whispered. "But okay -- say everything you just said is true. How much would Ross hate us for taking his children away?"
"But..."
"And would you be okay with giving him custody? I don't think so."
"I know," Rachel whispered.
"So there ya go."
"There I go," she sighed, her engagement ring tapping against the window as she stared out at the cornfields.
***
"He's *really* sweet," Megan begged, arms full of ginger cat. "He does the cutest thing... he'll climb up when you're reading and bite your nose..."
The elderly couple recoiled, and Megan realized she'd made a tactical error. "Not hard, I mean... it's cute... um, how about a dog? Snoozer makes a wonderful companion, he's *really* loving, he..."
"You know, when we read in the paper that you were giving away twenty animals, we thought it was a misprint," the old lady said, looking around the dirt yard in distaste. "Whyever do you have so many?"
"They found me," Megan said helplessly.
"Do any of them have papers?" the man queried, examining Snoozer like a particularly offensive store display.
Yes, asshole, they crawled up to my house with their dog show trophies in their mouths!
Megan took a deep breath. "No sir. But I am a vet tech, and I can vouch for the excellent health and personality of every animal."
"A vet tech," the woman said pointedly. "In other words, not a real vet."
"No, ma'am. Not a real vet."
"We were hoping for something a *little* more... pedigreed."
For free? In the paper? On *this* side of town? Megan felt her Irish rising and struggled to force it back down.
The woman shrieked, and Megan whirled. Raquel had run out onto the stairs and was regarding the visitors with her typical mischevious eye-glint.
"There's a raccoon, there's a raccoon on your stairs!"
"Yes. That's Raquel."
"Horrid, filthy creatures."
"You know what?" Megan burst out. "None of the animals are up for adoption. I've just decided, I'm keeping them all."
"Excuse me?"
"That's right. These are very special animals, they deserve very special treatment, and quite frankly..." Megan drew herself up to her full 4'10", "... I was hoping for owners a *little* more... pedigreed."
"Well!" the woman gasped, herding her husband towards the car.
Megan watched them go, sinking down onto the stairs and giving Snoozer a hug. "I didn't want you living with those pompous pricks anyway."
Snoozer howled in appreciation for her concern.
Megan kicked her "Various Loving Animals -- Free To Good Home" sign with the corner of her shoe. She'd been at this since seven a.m., and only managed to give away two kittens.
Not that she'd *wanted* to give away Rosencrantz and Goldenstern, but at least the little girl and her parents had seemed nice.
The screen door banged. "So what was wrong with *those* two?" Keith drawled. "Looked at 'em funny? Twitchy eyes?"
"Shut up, Keith," Megan said flatly, gathering Tabitha into her arms.
"Megan, you have to be realistic, honey. You could have given them all away by noon if you weren't being so friggin' picky. How many have you gotten rid of?"
Gotten rid of. Oh God, she could punch him right now.
"Rosencrantz and Guildenstern."
"Somebody *took* the Inbred Duo?"
"Don't *call* them that!"
Keith leaned against the railing. "What's in the folder?"
"Joey's divorce papers. I'm notarizing them for him."
"And let me guess. Even though he's a super-rich movie star, you're not charging him."
"Joey's always been very nice to me."
"Uh-uh. I've heard about how 'nice' he was to you."
"That was years ago, Keith."
"We're not moving to California with the traveling cast of 'Babe', Megan. Get rid of them by tomorrow, or they're going to the pound."
Slam.
Megan gritted her teeth and opened Joey's folder, flipping through the results of his "Do It Yourself Divorce Kit". She seriously needed to replace her black ink cartridge before...
You. Are not. Chandler's assistant. Anymore.
She scrawled her name blurrily across the line, reaching next to her for her embossing stamp.
"You're free, Joey," she whispered, pressing down on the metal handle. "I wish like hell I was."
"Excuse me, miss? I'd like to adopt a raccoon... preferably one that likes to chew cable wire and knock over my beer bottles?"
Her head snapped up. "Chandler?"
"Yeah, could I also get, um, about seven dogs? Oh, and eleven cats, and a parrot, and a one-eyed gerbil named 'Mad Moody'?"
"What are you doing here?"
"I'm interested in your various loving animals. I have a *very* good home."
"Seriously."
"I just dropped Mon off at the airport, and I thought I'd stop by. You do know I'll take any of these guys you can't find a home for, right?"
"You'd do that?"
You dropped Monica off at the airport?
"Of course -- you took care of my poultry! I have to rebuild the deck railings anyway, I thought I'd build up the bank a little bit, make a fenced-in thing."
Tears sprang to her eyes. "Chandler... I... I don't know what to say..."
"Shove it, Snoozer," Chandler laughed, gently moving Snoozer off the stair next to Megan and taking his place. "So I have some awesome news."
"I could use some awesome news."
"Monica's pregnant."
Megan's hands quit working completely, and the entire stack of Tribbiani vs. Tribbiani went flying down the stairs. She leapt up and began gathering them, grateful for the excuse to avoid Chandler's gaze.
"Well, that's great! That's wonderful! Are you guys gonna, are you guys gonna get married again?"
"No, I was gonna offer, but..."
Megan dropped every paper she'd managed to collect.
"... she really wants to raise Richard's kid all by herself, you know? The Monica Way."
"Richard's kid."
"Yeah, Richard's..." he paused. "Oh god, Meg, you didn't think it was mine?"
"I did, a little."
He laughed, hopping up to help her pick up paper. "I heard a rumor that sex was required for that."
The papers flew again. Chandler lunged for them, laughing.
"Anyway, you should have seen her. She just found out today -- she fell off the deck, I didn't tell you that, we've been at the E.R. all morning. That's where they told her. And she immediately wanted to go back to New York and start decorating... that's Monica for you, right? It's a lucky thing the airline lost her luggage on the way down, I don't think she would have let me go back to the house for it. I took her straight from the hospital."
"The airline lost her luggage?"
"Yeah, she's had to wear my clothes all week. I think she was bummed she didn't get to unpack, though. Monica *loooooves* to pack. I think she likes it better than sex, which doesn't say a hell of a lot for me, but... it's too bad you couldn't take her up on her offer to help you pack, seriously, you'd have the whole house color-coded and labeled in like, five minutes."
He looked up, blushing a little. "I'm rambling, I'm sorry, I... what's wrong?"
"I'm an idiot."
"No you're not... we took that I.Q. test on the Internet, remember? Together we are a genius."
"I just... misunderstood a bunch of stuff. I'm a dork."
"You're a cute dork. C'mon, put the depressing sign away and I'll take you to Waffle House."
"Why, Mr. Bing," Megan drawled, putting her hand to her chest.
"Yeah, I know, I like to go all out. You wanna see if Keith wants to go?"
"No," Megan said flatly.
"Oooo-kay then," Chandler laughed awkwardly. "You don't have to make up your mind right away, take your time..."
"Get me outta here and buy me a Waffle."
"Your wish is my command," Chandler replied, gesturing gallantly towards his truck.
***
"I'm gonna miss this," Chandler said, pulling the menu out of its holder.
"I'm gonna miss this, too."
"You know what we should do? For old time's sake?"
"What?"
"Come up with an evil plot."
"Oooh, we're *good* at evil plots. We just suck at execution."
"Yeah, well, you're sort of woefully un-evil."
"Yeah, well, *you* never bought the laser cannon."
"True, true. Okay, you ready? It's a doozy."
Megan laughed. "You sure it's not a humdinger?"
"It might just be at that. Hang on, I've got to put on my..." he dropped two octaves, "Plotting Voice. Come, let's hide stealthily behind our menus."
***
"This spells trouble for Operation Pet Evacuation," Chandler smiled, turning on his windshield wipers.
"I don't care. It's perfect," Megan declared, rolling down her window and sticking her hand out. "It *had* to rain, it just had to. It's my last night with author Chandler Bing, the most rain-obsessed writer since Hemingway."
"Hey, Hemingway's characters didn't do it in the rain. They just died in it. Often."
"So have you ever? Actually? Done it in the rain?"
"Nope. Monica was totally against it, and I'm pretty sure most of my other girlfriends would have melted. You?"
"Nope."
"You think it's actually as awesome as I make it sound?"
"I think it's a metaphor, don't you? Being so... caught up in passion that you don't even notice or care about your surroundings."
"I guess so," Chandler whispered, pulling into her driveway.
"This is me, I guess," Megan said. "Give me a hug or something."
They unhooked their seatbelts and met in the middle of the bench seat, arms wrapping around each other, faces burying into necks.
"I am really... really... really gonna miss you," Megan sighed. "This just... sucks... so much."
"So get famous and come back, be a recluse like me," Chandler said, tucking a curl behind her ear with his fingertips. "I promise I'll give your raccoon back."
"You'd better." She cleared her throat, broke the mood. "Are all systems go on our evil plot?"
"All systems go."
She fingered the door handle reluctantly. "I guess... I should go."
"Megan, I..."
She turned, eyes wide. "Yes?"
"I-I'll call you."
"I'll call you, too. The minute we get there."
"The second."
"The second. I swear." She kissed his cheek, then the corner of his mouth, and pulled herself back with an effort.
"Goodbye, Chandler."
"Goodbye, Megan."
He put the truck into gear, pulling slowly out of her driveway, easing back onto the wet road.
He hit the steering wheel with his hand.
Apparently, someone had let Hemingway write this rain scene.
It certainly *felt* like he was dying.
"Are you sure this is necessary?" Chandler asked, downshifting and watching Monica out of the corner of his eye. "I mean, the three of us can take care of you... help you get stuff..."
"I appreciate it, Chandler," Monica smiled, rubbing her new Aircast, "But I want to go home. Your house has all those stairs... that deck is so slippery..."
"... you want to start decorating the nursery..."
Monica laughed. "Okay, you know me too well."
Chandler tapped the steering wheel lightly, working up his courage. "And what about... what about later? Won't you need someone later?"
"I'll always be sorry Richard missed this, Chandler. But I think he'll be with me, you know? I think that now more than ever. And hey, look at it this way... I get to *totally* run my own baby-show. Make all the decisions, pick *everything* out, no compromises... it's like Monica's Ultimate Thing, run Monica's Ultimate Way."
Chandler chuckled. "At least until the kid can talk."
"I'll cross that bridge when I come to it," Monica grinned, putting her hand over his. "Seriously, Chandler... don't worry about me. I've never been in a better place to do this. I'm doing fine financially, I own my own apartment, I can afford to take the time off work."
Chandler kept his smile at low wattage, careful not to let his overwhelming relief show. "Well, if you need anything... call me."
He pulled in front of the airport, waiting in line for the drop-off area.
"Actually... there is one thing I would like."
"Anything."
"Can I keep this?" she held up a photo. "I swiped it from that box you have. Don't worry, it's a double."
Chandler held out his hand, and Monica slid the photo into it. He held it up to the light.
Him and Megan, during a particularly violent game of Drunken Scrabble. Becca had taken this one, he remembered... he and Megan were on the couch, him pinning her down, her attempting to shove Scrabble tiles up his nostrils, both of them laughing to the point of tears.
"You... of course you can have it, but... why do you want this?"
"You don't look this happy in any of my pictures," Monica said simply, taking the photograph back and sliding it into her purse before grabbing up her crutches and reaching for the door handle. "Thanks for everything, Chandler."
***
Rachel hit her "power" button repeatedly, a low growl of frustration coming out from between her lips.
Joey leaned over from the other side of the cab's backseat. "Don't hit me, Rach, but I think you killed it."
"Wonderful," she snapped. "Breaking a $300 cellphone during my temper tantrum... that's going to cheer Ross up, totally." She grabbed the window knob and cranked the window down. "I was really *hoping* to give him some more *ammunition*."
She launched the broken cellphone out the window, watching it curve in a graceful arc over the guardrail and out towards the lake.
"Rach, that's *littering*," Joey protested.
"Oh, yeah? Well then, watch *this*," Rachel spat, snatching off her wedding ring and holding it up to the window.
Joey closed his hand over hers, wrapping hers tightly around the ring and pulling it away from the wind. "Rach. You'd never forgive yourself. C'mon, put this back on." He slid the wedding ring back onto her finger.
"Do that again."
He ignored her. "This isn't Ross' grandmother's ring, is it?"
"No, he..." she leaned her head against the vinyl and looked out the window. "He didn't want to marry me with a ring I'd agreed to marry you with."
"Understandable," Joey said, fighting the wince and settling back into his own side of the seat.
Rachel twirled her wedding ring around her finger, staring into her lap. "You know... I snuck up on Emma the other day. I'd made brownies, actual edible brownies, you know? For a surprise. And she was in her room, playing with her Barbie dolls."
Joey nodded in confusion, watching the reflected light play against Rachel's profile.
"She had Barbie and Ken... in a fight, you know? And Barbie was whining and whining and whining, and Ken was getting mad and stomping around and calling Barbie names. But when Skipper came down the stairs of the dreamhouse, Barbie and Ken pretended everything was fine."
Joey reached out and touched Rachel's hand lightly.
"And suddenly, suddenly... *I* could remember doing that. *My* Barbies, *my* dream house. You know, my parents stayed married for so long, Joey... and I was so upset when they got divorced, even as old as I was. But sometimes I wonder... what would my life have been like if they were happy and apart? You know, my mom's with Michael now, they're so awesome together... and Cindy's a way better fit with my dad. What if I'd had two happy places to be a kid... instead of one miserable mooshed-together one?"
She played with the lock on the door. "Ben's Barbies *never* fought."
Joey took her hand, squeezed it.
"It's just... sometimes I wonder if Emma is all that Ross sees in me now. If he married me to make sure he would always get to be around her. He went through so much, never getting to see Ben, y'know?"
"That's not it, Rach. Ross loves you." Joey moved a piece of Rachel's bangs back from her forehead.
"I *know* he loves me, Joey. But I think, sometimes... I think he loves me like we all love each other. I mean... if I had to marry Chandler, or you had to marry Mon... you know we could do it, we've been friends for years, there's love, real love there. But that's not how Ross and I used to feel about each other."
She swallowed hard, looking into Joey's eyes. "And it's not how I feel about you."
"It's not how I feel about you either, Rach," Joey whispered. "But okay -- say everything you just said is true. How much would Ross hate us for taking his children away?"
"But..."
"And would you be okay with giving him custody? I don't think so."
"I know," Rachel whispered.
"So there ya go."
"There I go," she sighed, her engagement ring tapping against the window as she stared out at the cornfields.
***
"He's *really* sweet," Megan begged, arms full of ginger cat. "He does the cutest thing... he'll climb up when you're reading and bite your nose..."
The elderly couple recoiled, and Megan realized she'd made a tactical error. "Not hard, I mean... it's cute... um, how about a dog? Snoozer makes a wonderful companion, he's *really* loving, he..."
"You know, when we read in the paper that you were giving away twenty animals, we thought it was a misprint," the old lady said, looking around the dirt yard in distaste. "Whyever do you have so many?"
"They found me," Megan said helplessly.
"Do any of them have papers?" the man queried, examining Snoozer like a particularly offensive store display.
Yes, asshole, they crawled up to my house with their dog show trophies in their mouths!
Megan took a deep breath. "No sir. But I am a vet tech, and I can vouch for the excellent health and personality of every animal."
"A vet tech," the woman said pointedly. "In other words, not a real vet."
"No, ma'am. Not a real vet."
"We were hoping for something a *little* more... pedigreed."
For free? In the paper? On *this* side of town? Megan felt her Irish rising and struggled to force it back down.
The woman shrieked, and Megan whirled. Raquel had run out onto the stairs and was regarding the visitors with her typical mischevious eye-glint.
"There's a raccoon, there's a raccoon on your stairs!"
"Yes. That's Raquel."
"Horrid, filthy creatures."
"You know what?" Megan burst out. "None of the animals are up for adoption. I've just decided, I'm keeping them all."
"Excuse me?"
"That's right. These are very special animals, they deserve very special treatment, and quite frankly..." Megan drew herself up to her full 4'10", "... I was hoping for owners a *little* more... pedigreed."
"Well!" the woman gasped, herding her husband towards the car.
Megan watched them go, sinking down onto the stairs and giving Snoozer a hug. "I didn't want you living with those pompous pricks anyway."
Snoozer howled in appreciation for her concern.
Megan kicked her "Various Loving Animals -- Free To Good Home" sign with the corner of her shoe. She'd been at this since seven a.m., and only managed to give away two kittens.
Not that she'd *wanted* to give away Rosencrantz and Goldenstern, but at least the little girl and her parents had seemed nice.
The screen door banged. "So what was wrong with *those* two?" Keith drawled. "Looked at 'em funny? Twitchy eyes?"
"Shut up, Keith," Megan said flatly, gathering Tabitha into her arms.
"Megan, you have to be realistic, honey. You could have given them all away by noon if you weren't being so friggin' picky. How many have you gotten rid of?"
Gotten rid of. Oh God, she could punch him right now.
"Rosencrantz and Guildenstern."
"Somebody *took* the Inbred Duo?"
"Don't *call* them that!"
Keith leaned against the railing. "What's in the folder?"
"Joey's divorce papers. I'm notarizing them for him."
"And let me guess. Even though he's a super-rich movie star, you're not charging him."
"Joey's always been very nice to me."
"Uh-uh. I've heard about how 'nice' he was to you."
"That was years ago, Keith."
"We're not moving to California with the traveling cast of 'Babe', Megan. Get rid of them by tomorrow, or they're going to the pound."
Slam.
Megan gritted her teeth and opened Joey's folder, flipping through the results of his "Do It Yourself Divorce Kit". She seriously needed to replace her black ink cartridge before...
You. Are not. Chandler's assistant. Anymore.
She scrawled her name blurrily across the line, reaching next to her for her embossing stamp.
"You're free, Joey," she whispered, pressing down on the metal handle. "I wish like hell I was."
"Excuse me, miss? I'd like to adopt a raccoon... preferably one that likes to chew cable wire and knock over my beer bottles?"
Her head snapped up. "Chandler?"
"Yeah, could I also get, um, about seven dogs? Oh, and eleven cats, and a parrot, and a one-eyed gerbil named 'Mad Moody'?"
"What are you doing here?"
"I'm interested in your various loving animals. I have a *very* good home."
"Seriously."
"I just dropped Mon off at the airport, and I thought I'd stop by. You do know I'll take any of these guys you can't find a home for, right?"
"You'd do that?"
You dropped Monica off at the airport?
"Of course -- you took care of my poultry! I have to rebuild the deck railings anyway, I thought I'd build up the bank a little bit, make a fenced-in thing."
Tears sprang to her eyes. "Chandler... I... I don't know what to say..."
"Shove it, Snoozer," Chandler laughed, gently moving Snoozer off the stair next to Megan and taking his place. "So I have some awesome news."
"I could use some awesome news."
"Monica's pregnant."
Megan's hands quit working completely, and the entire stack of Tribbiani vs. Tribbiani went flying down the stairs. She leapt up and began gathering them, grateful for the excuse to avoid Chandler's gaze.
"Well, that's great! That's wonderful! Are you guys gonna, are you guys gonna get married again?"
"No, I was gonna offer, but..."
Megan dropped every paper she'd managed to collect.
"... she really wants to raise Richard's kid all by herself, you know? The Monica Way."
"Richard's kid."
"Yeah, Richard's..." he paused. "Oh god, Meg, you didn't think it was mine?"
"I did, a little."
He laughed, hopping up to help her pick up paper. "I heard a rumor that sex was required for that."
The papers flew again. Chandler lunged for them, laughing.
"Anyway, you should have seen her. She just found out today -- she fell off the deck, I didn't tell you that, we've been at the E.R. all morning. That's where they told her. And she immediately wanted to go back to New York and start decorating... that's Monica for you, right? It's a lucky thing the airline lost her luggage on the way down, I don't think she would have let me go back to the house for it. I took her straight from the hospital."
"The airline lost her luggage?"
"Yeah, she's had to wear my clothes all week. I think she was bummed she didn't get to unpack, though. Monica *loooooves* to pack. I think she likes it better than sex, which doesn't say a hell of a lot for me, but... it's too bad you couldn't take her up on her offer to help you pack, seriously, you'd have the whole house color-coded and labeled in like, five minutes."
He looked up, blushing a little. "I'm rambling, I'm sorry, I... what's wrong?"
"I'm an idiot."
"No you're not... we took that I.Q. test on the Internet, remember? Together we are a genius."
"I just... misunderstood a bunch of stuff. I'm a dork."
"You're a cute dork. C'mon, put the depressing sign away and I'll take you to Waffle House."
"Why, Mr. Bing," Megan drawled, putting her hand to her chest.
"Yeah, I know, I like to go all out. You wanna see if Keith wants to go?"
"No," Megan said flatly.
"Oooo-kay then," Chandler laughed awkwardly. "You don't have to make up your mind right away, take your time..."
"Get me outta here and buy me a Waffle."
"Your wish is my command," Chandler replied, gesturing gallantly towards his truck.
***
"I'm gonna miss this," Chandler said, pulling the menu out of its holder.
"I'm gonna miss this, too."
"You know what we should do? For old time's sake?"
"What?"
"Come up with an evil plot."
"Oooh, we're *good* at evil plots. We just suck at execution."
"Yeah, well, you're sort of woefully un-evil."
"Yeah, well, *you* never bought the laser cannon."
"True, true. Okay, you ready? It's a doozy."
Megan laughed. "You sure it's not a humdinger?"
"It might just be at that. Hang on, I've got to put on my..." he dropped two octaves, "Plotting Voice. Come, let's hide stealthily behind our menus."
***
"This spells trouble for Operation Pet Evacuation," Chandler smiled, turning on his windshield wipers.
"I don't care. It's perfect," Megan declared, rolling down her window and sticking her hand out. "It *had* to rain, it just had to. It's my last night with author Chandler Bing, the most rain-obsessed writer since Hemingway."
"Hey, Hemingway's characters didn't do it in the rain. They just died in it. Often."
"So have you ever? Actually? Done it in the rain?"
"Nope. Monica was totally against it, and I'm pretty sure most of my other girlfriends would have melted. You?"
"Nope."
"You think it's actually as awesome as I make it sound?"
"I think it's a metaphor, don't you? Being so... caught up in passion that you don't even notice or care about your surroundings."
"I guess so," Chandler whispered, pulling into her driveway.
"This is me, I guess," Megan said. "Give me a hug or something."
They unhooked their seatbelts and met in the middle of the bench seat, arms wrapping around each other, faces burying into necks.
"I am really... really... really gonna miss you," Megan sighed. "This just... sucks... so much."
"So get famous and come back, be a recluse like me," Chandler said, tucking a curl behind her ear with his fingertips. "I promise I'll give your raccoon back."
"You'd better." She cleared her throat, broke the mood. "Are all systems go on our evil plot?"
"All systems go."
She fingered the door handle reluctantly. "I guess... I should go."
"Megan, I..."
She turned, eyes wide. "Yes?"
"I-I'll call you."
"I'll call you, too. The minute we get there."
"The second."
"The second. I swear." She kissed his cheek, then the corner of his mouth, and pulled herself back with an effort.
"Goodbye, Chandler."
"Goodbye, Megan."
He put the truck into gear, pulling slowly out of her driveway, easing back onto the wet road.
He hit the steering wheel with his hand.
Apparently, someone had let Hemingway write this rain scene.
It certainly *felt* like he was dying.