Chandler jerked awake on the couch, flinging covers to the floor. Dear God, what was that...?

"Morning's here! Sunshine is here! The sky is clear, the morning's here! The morning's here!"

Ahh, yes. His new alarm clock -- Phoebe and Joey *both* singing along with The Morning Man.

Rachel's door banged open, and she emerged, hair askew and scowling. Clearly she appreciated Joey and Phoebe's new hobby as much as he did.

"Coffee," Rachel growled, then smiled when she saw Chandler. "Ha, ha -- you're as pissy in the mornings as I am!"

"C'mere, grumpus," he grinned, and she belly-flopped on top of him, kissing him on the nose.

Joey and Phoebe came into the living room, wide-awake and smiling.

"What are you guys doing up?" Joey asked, grabbing the coffee bag and the filters.

"Ah, Rach and I thought we'd start off the day with a little choir practice... oh wait, wait, that was you!"

"Admit it," Joey grinned, pointing the measuring cup at Chandler. "You missed me and Morning Guy."

"Joe," Chandler laughed, "I can honestly say I missed everything about living with you *but* that."

"So how did it go with Richard last night?" Phoebe asked, pouring water into the coffeemaker.

"Not bad," Chandler sighed, disentangling himself from Rachel and wiping his eyes. "Freaky and surreal, of course, but I got a big check... oh, and those."

He pointed to a stack of wedding invitations perched on the edge of the foosball table.

"Oh my god," Rachel laughed. "What the hell are you going to do with 200 invitations to a wedding you're not having?"

"Well, I paid for 'em," Chandler shrugged. "And apparently, whiting out my name and scrawling 'Richard' above it in red crayon wasn't Monica's style." He sighed. "I dunno. I guess I'll have the world's most expensive scratch paper, you know." He blocked out an imaginary letterhead with his hand. "From the Failed Marriage of... Chandler M. Bing."

"Did Richard say when the wedding was?"

"Same date... they're using the same booking."

"Oh my *god*," Rachel gasped. "They're getting married in a month?"

"Well, there's not much to do," Chandler smirked. "New invitations, and, of course, painting a little moustache on the groom cake-topper."

"Have you told your parents?" Phoebe asked.

"Nope," Chandler grinned. "Hadn't actually told them about the wedding yet. And you people said family estrangement was a *bad* thing."

"You were getting married in a month, and you hadn't told them yet?"

"Well, I..." Chandler sighed. "I didn't want to give either of them time to think up an outfit, okay?"

***

Rachel pushed the restaurant door open nervously, looking at Phoebe with a sigh.

"Look, Pheebs... I don't know what's going to happen in there... so please don't be offended if I use you as a human shield."

"Okay, but you can't be offended if I stab you with my salad fork," Phoebe replied.

"What?"

Phoebe shrugged. "Getaway diversion."

"Right," Rachel sighed, and walked resolutely over to the table where Monica and Wendy were waiting.

"Hello, ladies," Monica said stiffly, hands clenched in her lap.

"Monica," Rachel and Phoebe said in unison, sitting down at the table.

"Isn't this nice?" Wendy chirped nervously, then trailed off. "Or something."

Phoebe spread her napkin in her lap. "So, let's plan."

"Oh, that's right, you're *great* at 'plans'," Monica spat.

"See, this is going to be *fun*," Phoebe replied sarcastically.

"Let's get down to business," Monica said, pulling out a file folder full of papers. "Here's a list of changes made to the wedding that affect you. There are four bridesmaids instead of two now, so you'll notice that you all have a lot less duties than before. Michelle couldn't be here, but she has her list."

Monica passed crisply Xeroxed sheets around. Rachel noted sadly that every duty she and Phoebe'd had which had required them to actually speak to Monica had been swapped over to Wendy or Michelle.

Monica cleared her throat. "There's also the matter of the apartment. Richard and I have decided to live at his place, and Ross wants to stay where he is... so... as my two ex-roommates, I'm offering my sublet to you two, if you want it."

"Oh my god," Rachel breathed.

"Woo-hoo!" Phoebe shrieked, throwing her fist into the air.

"Not woo-hoo," Rachel cried, smacking Phoebe's hand back down. "Didn't you hear her? She's moving away!"

"Oh, right," Phoebe said. "Bummer."

"Monica, *please* don't go," Rachel begged. "Can't you and Richard live at your place?"

"Yeah, right!" Monica cried. "Cause *that* wouldn't be weird at *all*!"

"It won't be weird forever! Ross and I were weird, remember? You get over it! You move on!"

"Ross cheated on you with someone *outside* the group, Rach... you both went on to date people outside the group. How much harder would it have been if he'd cheated on you with Phoebe?"

"Don't put *me* in this," Phoebe said in horror.

"You put *yourself* in this, Plotty Plotterson," Monica snapped.

"Oooh, yes, Monica, I'm *reeeeally* sorry that I got you out of the engagement you were bitching about and back with the love of your life. Can you *ever* forgive me for the *terrible* thing that I did?"

"And hey, while we're yelling?" Rachel slammed her wine glass down. "Chandler did not *cheat* on you, okay?"

The girls began to screech at each other while heads whipped around to stare at them. Their noise stopped abruptly when Wendy threw her dinner napkin in between them and shoved her chair back.

"Where are you going? We're not done yet!" Monica cried.

"I'm sorry, you guys, but count me out," Wendy said, grabbing her purse from the back of the chair. "I'm not going through two more weeks of this crap, no way."

"Sit back down," Rachel soothed. "We'll just talk about wedding stuff, we swear."

"Um... lemme think about it... no," Wendy replied. "Look, Monica, I'm flattered that you want me to be a bridesmaid... but I'm not getting sucked into this. I've got too many friends with real problems to sit around listening to you guys bicker and whine over the mechanics of how you all became ecstatically happy."

"Wendy... Wendy, wait," Monica said, grabbing her arm. "Hang on, okay?"

Monica turned to Phoebe reluctantly. "Thank you for what you did. I might think your methods suck... but... I really am a lot happier now." She turned to Rachel and took a deep breath. "And thank you... for taking care of Chandler. I'm... I'm glad he's happy, I really am."

"I'm sorry I went behind your back," Phoebe replied, eyes downcast.

"I'm sorry I'm dating your ex-fiancee," Rachel mumbled.

Wendy turned on her heel and headed away from the table.

"Wait... wait... you're still leaving?"

Wendy turned around with a grin. "Yeah, I really have to pee. But now, I'm coming back afterwards."

***

"This place looks *so* weird," Joey said, setting a box on the table and looking at the empty blue shelves with a shiver.

"Not on the table," Monica called, marching through the living room with a dresser over her head. "That's leaving next."

"Do you guys own *any* furniture at all?" Wendy asked Rachel, wrapping glasses in bubblewrap and staring at the cavernous open space where Monica's meticulously arranged faux clutter used to be.

"Not really, no," Rachel sighed. "There was a fire, and... it's a long story."

"It'll be cool, though," Phoebe added. "We can have raves." She began to dance horribly as a demonstration.

"You know, if you want, Richard might sell you his furniture," Monica offered.

"Uh-huh, yeah, 'cause you know how I *dig* leather," Phoebe joked.

Monica's face fell. "Just trying to be nice," she muttered under her breath.

"I was just kidd--" Phoebe began, but Monica brushed past her and headed for the bedroom.

"Well, thank God, 'cause I was worried we might have awkward moments," Chandler quipped, flinging his sweaty hair out of his eyes and hefting a box.

"Sweetie, you're drenched," Rachel smiled, putting a hand to his clammy forehead. "Why don't you take a break for a minute?"

"I think there's only two more boxes in..." Monica stopped in the bedroom doorway, staring intently at Chandler and Rachel. They froze in place, guilty expressions on their faces.

"Only two more boxes in there," Monica finished awkwardly. "But I'll get 'em."

Monica went into box-carrying overdrive, studiously avoiding Chandler and Rachel's eyes. The others followed suit, moving in sweaty silence.

"Last trip," Ross announced, wiping his face with his shirttail before picking up the ottoman.

"Oh, hey -- It's so cute!" Wendy picked something up out of an open shoebox. "You guys, what's this?"

"That would be... a sock bunny," Chandler scratched his nose awkwardly.

"Which, um, you might want to wash your hands after touching, really..." Monica added.

Chandler and Monica shared a mischevious glance, and Rachel swallowed hard.

"You, um... you keeping that?" Chandler asked lightly, looking into Monica's eyes.

"Yeah, I... I thought I would," Monica replied. "You mind?"

"No, I... I don't mind. I'm kinda glad."

They smiled at each other warmly. Rachel became very interested in the packing tape on a box of fancy guest towels.

Ross watched the moment linger, his unease deepening. "Hey, let's get this last load down to the truck before it gets dark, okay?"

***

"So... uh..." Phoebe said softly when the last of their friends were gone. "You wanna flip for the big room, or what?"

Rachel hugged her arms around herself. "Y'know what? You take it."

"But the closet's so much bigger... and you have three times more clothes than I do..."

"So I have too many clothes," Rachel snapped, then softened. "Sorry, Pheebs... it's just... that was *their* room. For over a year. And I... maybe... I'm not handling that as well as I could be."

"It'll be weird for a while," Phoebe said reassuringly.

"It's just... I guess I didn't think about it all the way through. How weird it would be. How much I'd end up comparing myself to Monica."

"C'mon, Rach, you can't compare yourself to..."

"But it's right there in my face, Pheebs. I mean... what if he dates me just as long as he dated Monica... and shows zero interest in marrying me? God, how would I feel then? I've just... never dated someone whose last relationship I had a, you know, front-row seat and freakin' backstage pass for."

"Is that why you haven't...?" Phoebe asked gently.

"Partly," Rachel said, wiping at her eyes with her sleeve. "And, I mean, the longer we put it off, the more freaked I am about it, y'know? I mean, Monica and Chandler actually tried not to have a relationship, right? And they 'just couldn't stay away from each other'. What does it mean that he *can* stay away from me?"

"It means that he knows how weird this is, and that's all it means! Come on, Rachel, look at how you two have spent your first month together! Which would have been the more magical night for you two to consummate your relationship, huh? The night you got home from your bridesmaid's dress fitting, or the night Monica gave his stuff back? Or huh, maybe after the big party at Monica's parents, oooh, where everyone called Wendy 'Rachel'? C'mon, you guys have been up to your ears in emotional baggage."

Phoebe wrapped an arm around Rachel. "The wedding's in two days, and after that, you guys will have some time that's all about you." She grabbed Rachel by the hand. "C'mon, let's get you some tissue."

Phoebe pulled Rachel into the bathroom, then stared in annoyance at the empty toilet paper holder. "Damn, when she moves out, she really moves out."

"Did you see that look, though?" Rachel sniffed, dabbing at her eyes. "With the sock bunny? I mean, what the hell was that? I just... I just don't think they're really over each other, you know?"

"Tissue, tissue," Phoebe mumbled, and finally plucked one out of the trash can. "Here you go."

Rachel accepted it and blew her nose loudly. "Thanks... are there any more?"

"Um... sure..." Phoebe stuck her hand deeper into the trash.

"It's just like... there's still something between them, you know? A connection. Maybe it's just history, you know, or familiarity, but it feels like it's more than that..."

"Oh shit," Phoebe said loudly, looking at a white stick in her hand.

"What?" Rachel said. "Oh gross, did you get that out of the trash?"

"Look at it," Phoebe shrieked.

"Oh my god," Rachel whispered. "Is that Monica's?"

"No, it's mine, I like to come over here and pee on sticks! Of course it's Monica's!"

"Oh my god. Oh my god! If she just found out she was pregnant, then it could be..."

"Either one of them," Phoebe finished.