Rachel's heels echoed in the parking garage, the staccatto, angry tapping bouncing back at her from every angle.

How dare he. How dare he.

He was the one -- the one! -- who'd been so concerned about hurting Ross. And yet, when Rachel got stuck in a bad situation, what did he do? Nothing! How easy would it have been to make some distraction, hell, even just come out and invite them to the stupid-ass party... anything! But no, he'd rather sulk, and get mad, and go grudge-fuck her best friend... who he knew, he knew, had feelings for him!

It wasn't enough to play around with Rachel's heart... he had to mess with Monica's, too?

All the times she'd spent listening to him whine about how he couldn't get, or keep, a girlfriend... well, no fucking wonder.

She heard the slapping of bare feet, running up behind her. She didn't turn around.

"Go away."

"Rachel..."

"I said go away!"

"We need to talk..."

"No." She inhaled deeply. "No, we don't. This was stupid, Chandler. All of it. Stupid. We're completely wrong for each other, and we both know it. And this... this is the end of a stupid, horny, mistake I wish like hell I'd never made."

She heard him suck in breath. She'd hurt him.

Good.

"Is that why you came here?" he whispered. "To... to tell me that?"

She seized the pride-sparing, offered lie. "Yes. Yes, it was, actually."

"Well, that's it, then," Chandler spat. "Let the 'magical fairytale' begin! Exit geeky 'complication', stage left... just a little bit destroyed, but oh, who cares about him?"

She heard him turn, heard his footsteps recede... then stop.

"You know... it's almost funny," Chandler muttered.

"What is?" Rachel asked, teeth gritted.

"Everyone says I judge women too soon, right? Says I ought to get to know them first. But you know what? I judged you just fine."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You ran into that coffeeshop, more in love with a fucking gravy boat than your fiance, just so certain that Monica would be dying to let you move in with her, and I thought... spoiled little princess. And I kept being friends with you, thinking there must be something underneath... y'know, I'm so god-damned stupid, I convinced myself there was... and there isn't."

Rachel whirled. "Oh yeah? Well, I'm so stupid, I forgot for a whole week who you were! For a moment there, I actually convinced myself that you weren't a bratty, wiseass preteen in a sweatervest!"

Chandler nearly snarled. "Well, that's not your problem now, is it?"

"I guess it's not," she snapped.

Chandler stepped back, bowing, his arms held out. "Well... I hope you and Ross are very happy together."

"I'm sure we will be." She clutched her purse, lips tight. "I have to go now."

She turned, heading for the exit, making space between them as quickly as she could.

"I take that back!" Chandler bellowed after her. "I hope Ross is happy! And I hope you rot in hell!"

***

Rachel kicked the door of Apartment 20 open, struggling with her armloads of shopping bags. The apartment swung into view, Monica hopping up from the couch.

"Rachel... Rach... where have you been?" Monica cried.

Rachel dumped her sacks in a pile by the counter. "What does it look like?"

"How... how did you afford all this, Rachel?" Monica asked, peering at the heap. "There must be twenty bags there!"

"Turns out I still had a credit card of Daddy's," Rachel smirked. "Just like me, huh? I'm such a spoiled little princess."

She threw her coat onto the couch, stalking towards her room.

"You had a card of your dad's all this time and didn't use it?" Monica marveled. "Wow... I'm impressed, Rach."

Rachel froze. "Do not, do not be nice to me right now, Mon. I-I couldn't take it."

"Are... are you okay?"

"No, I'm not, and I swear to God, if you keep being sweet to me, I'm gonna sob all over you." Rachel took a steadying breath. "So just... just ignore me, okay? Yell at me for throwing my coat on the couch, or something."

Monica dropped into the couch, deflated. "Throw your trash on the couch. I don't care right now."

"Did..." Rachel bit her lip. "Did something happen with Chandler?"

"Yeah!" Monica cried out, pulling a pillow over her face. "I made the biggest ass of myself, ever!"

"He doesn't deserve you, honey," Rachel said flatly.

"Oh Rach, you weren't there," Monica moaned. "It was awful."

"What did he do to you?"

"He didn't do anything to me! That's kinda the point! God, Rach, I was so drunk, and you and Ross had just hooked up, and I thought, if it could happen for you guys, it could happen for me...!"

Monica balled up the pillow miserably. "So I tried to get him drunk, and he didn't wanna get drunk, and he kept trying to make me quit drinking, and I wouldn't... and he was all upset about Julie, y'know, thinking about Julie? I mean, how sweet is that? And I... I was trying to press the friends-who-hook-up issue, y'know? And I got really vulgar about it, I mean, like, humiliatingly vulgar."

Rachel sat down in the chair, and Monica continued. "I think I... god, I hope I'm remembering this wrong... but I think I... I think I actually referred to you and Ross as 'riding the baloney pony'."

"You. Um." Rachel swallowed. "You told him Ross and I were having sex?"

"God, I wish I'd told him you were 'having sex'! No, I told him you were 'playing the skin flute', and then I... god, I actually think I made some lewd reference to our family newsletter."

"He thought... he thought I was having sex with Ross."

"Wait-wait-wait! It gets worse! So now he starts drinking, I mean, goes nuts... he's actually drinking straight out of the bottle..."

Rachel's guts cramped, twisted, spun.

"So I'm thinking, here we go, tonight's the night, right? And I drag him over to the concierge, and I register us under some stupid damn name... I can barely talk at this point... and drag him upstairs..."

"Go on," Rachel breathed.

"And all he wants to do is puke. That's all he wants to do. Puke and be left alone. But no, nooooo, I can't take a damned hint, I start kissing him, he's pushing me off, and I... I misunderstand, I think he's embarrassed, because, well, Mr. Winky doesn't want to come out and play."

Monica sighed heavily. "So I grab him, well, you know where... and he pukes on me."

"Oh my god," Rachel said in horror. "That's why his pants were unzipped?"

"Yeah! God, Rach... I don't think I've ever been more embarrassed. And then you show up..."

"You knew I was there?"

"I heard you calling for us. Chandler told me you'd come to make sure we were okay. Y'know, when he came back up, to give me the aspirin you guys had gone to get?"

Monica reached out, touched Rachel's hand. "Thanks for doing that, by the way."

"You're -- you're welcome," Rachel stammered.

Monica leaned back against the couch, groaning. "God, Rachel... you should have heard me, I made such an ass of myself. Going on and on and on about you and Ross and how great that was... just hoping he'd take the hint, y'know? I went off on this drunken soliloquy about how you and Ross were like the love story in one of his mother's books and Julie was a complication..."

Suddenly, Rachel remembered what Chandler had said, the night before.

Exit geeky 'complication', stage left...

"Have you... um... talked to Chandler today?" Rachel asked carefully.

"No," Monica moaned. "That's the worst part."

"What... what is the worst part?"

"He's avoiding me."

"Well, I mean, he's just next door..."

"No-no, no. He went to Vegas to see his dad. He acted like he'd had it planned for weeks, but please... I know when someone's too embarrassed to look at me. He's hiding from me."

"How... how long is he going to be gone?"

"He didn't say. God, Rach, you have to help me -- how do I fix this? I have to fix this."

"I-I don't know, Monica," Rachel said miserably. "I... I don't know how to fix this."