AN:  It's the uber-long, final chapter!  I've decided to wrap this one up, so I can finish up the other twenty million series I've got going on.  Bad writer! [Slaps own hands]

This one's for Sal, who is my biggest supporter, and for Chris, who just rocks more than anyone.

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Head Over Heels

Nine: Heart Shaped World

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Sunday

Rachel stood outside of Ross' apartment door, shifting from foot to foot, waiting for him to answer.  Unsure as to whether he had heard the initial knock, she tried again, this time rapping her fist against the door with slightly more force.

Still, there was nothing.

Sighing heavily, she shook her head, and turned to leave.

She paused, and stole a last look at the door.

It stood silent and unmoving—mocking her, it seemed.

Shaking her head, she reluctantly walked back toward her apartment.

She thought about all that she and Ross had been through, and all of the things that irritated her about him.  Then she thought about all of the reasons she loved him, and began to realize the error of her ways.

She loved him, more than anything: so what was she afraid of?

Maybe it was the prospect of being with someone who was so certain of their future together.  Maybe it was because, now that she had her freedom, freedom from her family, and from her first would-be husband, she'd rebelled against the very idea that anyone wanted to hold her down.

Maybe it was because she had never loved anyone, the way she loved him.

She shuffled up the steps to her apartment, her heart heavy, her eyes weighed with thought and grief.

The door across the hall flew open, startling her.

"Oh, hey Rach," Chandler smiled casually, his face turning crimson.

"Hey Chandler," Rachel smiled, "did you think I was Monica?"

"No, I thought you were…the…pizza guy," Chandler shrugged.

"It's like, 10 in the morning," Rachel laughed.

"I was…whatever." Chandler shook his head, "Aren't you worried about Monica?  Or—or did she call you?" Chandler asked hopefully.

Rachel smiled sympathetically, "No.  She usually doesn't call if she stays out all night with the guy—not that she does it often!" Rachel corrected herself quickly.

"Oh," Chandler replied flatly, "well, I was just…Izzy was asking for her, is all," Chandler stuttered.

"Where is she?" Rachel asked, and stepped toward Chandler's apartment.

"She's um—napping now, but…she was…asking…earlier.  Anyway, you wanna come in for a while?"

"Okay," Rachel smiled slightly, and followed Chandler into his apartment.  She closed the door behind her and followed him into the living room, where she joined him on the sofa.

For a moment, they were silent; both pondering what was, and what could have been.  Finally, after a long moment, Chandler looked over at Rachel and spoke.

"How did everything go with Ross?" he asked tentatively.

Rachel's face fell, "He wasn't home," she muttered.

"Oh," Chandler nodded.

"Can I ask you a personal question?" Rachel asked quietly.

"Sure."

"When you got married, did you freak out at all?  I mean, about the future, and what was going to happen?"

Chandler thought for a moment, then looked over at Rachel again.

"Honestly?  Not really.  I can't really describe what I was feeling in the weeks leading up to our wedding.  I just knew that I loved Caitlin with all my heart, and I wanted to be with her forever.  I guess I didn't really start freaking out about the future until—until…she got sick."

"What was she like?  Caitlin?"

"She was…she was the kindest person I've ever met.  She…she never had an unkind word for anyone.  She truly believed that there was good in every person, and she made me believe it too.

When she found out she was pregnant…I've never seen anyone so happy.  She had that natural instinct—she was born to be a mother.  The day Izzy was born, she just held her and cried for hours.  She loved her so much."

Chandler took a breath, and surreptitiously wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.  He looked over at Isabelle's door, and smiled sadly.

"When she found out that she was sick, she was…she was devastated.  All she kept saying was that she couldn't leave Izzy and me behind.  That she didn't want us to be alone.  When she was too sick to see Izzy, she would still hum her bedtime song, determined to be a great mother to the very end."

"She sounds wonderful, Chandler," Rachel said softly, and took his hand in hers.

"It's funny, you know?  Monica and Caitlin could not be more different.  Caitlin was so soft spoken, yet she had this quiet confidence.  Monica is so…boisterous, yet insecure at the same time, you know?  They are so different.

"But Monica has that instinct too…she was just born to be a mom, I can see it, the way she just loves my daughter unconditionally.  That's what I love about her most, I think."

Rachel smiled, and squeezed Chandler's hand.  He looked over at her, perplexed.

"What?" he said.

"You really love her, don't you?" Rachel replied, and Chandler reddened again.

"I don't…I mean I'm not in love with her…I just…"

"Then why is her not being home driving you mad?  You're jealous!" Rachel laughed.

"I'm not…I am not…whatever," Chandler shook his head.

"Chandler," Rachel sobered, "I think it's great…if you do love her.  I know how much she cares about you, and about Isabelle.  You can't deny your feelings forever.  What's meant to be is meant to be."

Chandler laughed, and pulled Rachel into a hug.

"You sound like my friend Phoebe," he said, as he pulled away.

"Call it women's intuition.  We know about these things."

"And what does your intuition say about your relationship?" Chandler arched his eyebrow knowingly.

It was Rachel's turn to redden.  She shrugged and let out a sigh.

"I don't know.  I guess that all depends on Ross," she replied quietly.

"What about that other guy?"

"He's…he's a great guy…but you can't fight fate, I suppose," Rachel shrugged again, "I've discovered that everything I hate about Ross is everything I love about him."

"Funny how that works, huh?" Chandler grinned.

"It is."

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Monica waved to Pete, as the limousine pulled away from the curb.  She had insisted that he not walk her all the way up to her apartment, but she wasn't entirely sure why.

No, she knew why—she didn't want to risk running into Chandler.

She looked at her watch, as she ascended the stairs to her floor, and took a sharp breath.

It was nearly six.

She had been gone almost twenty-four hours.  No doubt Rachel would be worried sick.

She wondered if Chandler had noticed.

As quietly as she could, she walked into her apartment, closing the door softly behind her.

To her dismay, Rachel was standing in the kitchen, her eyebrow arched and a sly smile on her face.

"That must have been one hell of a date," she said wryly.

Monica sighed and shook her head.

"He took me to Italy…Italy!  Can you believe that?"

"You mean Little Italy, right?" Rachel queried.

"No.  The actual country!  Can you believe that?  He asked me if I was up for Italian food, and I said I was, and the next thing I know he is whisking me off to Italy on his jet!" Monica laughed excitedly.

"Wow!  That's like, the best first date ever!!  So, how was it?  Were there sparks??" Rachel asked with equal enthusiasm.

Monica's smile faltered, and she shrugged slightly.

"I mean, he's a really nice guy, ya know?  I just…I dunno.  I'm just not attracted to him.  Is that weird?"

"Hell yes it's weird, the man is a billionaire!" Rachel yelled.

"Rach!"

"Well, are you gonna see him again?"

"We're going out again Saturday night."

"Well, there must be something, if you are going out again, right?" Rachel asked.

"I…I don't know," Monica looked at the floor, "I suppose."

"This doesn't have anything to do with a certain single-dad-neighbor of ours, does it?" Rachel winked.

"No!  Look Rach, Chandler has made his feelings perfectly clear," Monica shook her head, as she turned and walked toward her bedroom.

"Yeah, I wouldn't be too sure about that," Rachel mumbled to herself.  Out loud she said, "I'm going over to Ross'."

Monica turned.  "Did you two work things out?"

"No, he wasn't home this morning.  But I'm going back over, and this time, I'm not leaving until he answers the door," Rachel said, determined.

"Right, well…what am I supposed to do if my brother takes out a restraining order on my roommate?" Monica laughed.

"Ha ha.  Oh, Chandler was looking for you this morning," Rachel smiled sweetly, and walked out of the apartment.

Monica's smile faded as Rachel left.  Deciding that she was too tired to deal with Chandler at the moment, she turned and walked into her bedroom, closing the door firmly behind her.

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Ross slowed his pace, as he neared his apartment building.  He wondered briefly if Rachel had been back to his apartment since he'd left earlier in the day.

He had heard her knocking on the door, but something inside him told him that he just wasn't ready to hear what she had to say.

He was convinced that she was going to sever all ties with him—that she had moved on with Joshua, and that it was really over.

He wasn't ready to hear any of this.  So he let her knock, then waited until she was safely away, before slipping out the door.

But now he was making his way up to his apartment, his heart heavy and his hands shaky.

If she was there, waiting, would she be angry?  If she wasn't there waiting, would he ever see her again?

He rounded the corner to his hallway, and immediately, he saw her.

She was curled against the wall, her arms wrapped protectively around her legs; her head slumped to the right.

She was sound asleep.

He walked over to her slowly, and couldn't help but take in how utterly beautiful she was.

He crouched down in front of her, his eyes welling up with tears.  Slowly, he ran his index finger down her cheek, rousing her slowly.

Her eyes fluttered open and widened as her brain registered recognition.

"Ross," she whispered softly.

"Shh, it's okay.  Come on," he whispered in reply, and lifted her into his arms.  He carried her toward his door, and fumbled with his keys, though his eyes never left hers.  Eventually, he unlocked the door, and swung the door open, then carried her into the apartment in silence.

He set her down slowly, then sat down next to her on his brown leather sofa.  For a moment, they stared at each other silently, neither wanting to shatter the preciousness of the moment. 

"Ross," Rachel whispered finally, "I'm so sorry."

"Y-you're sorry?" Ross asked, taken aback.

"I-I thought I knew what I wanted…but…but I was wrong.  What I was trying to tell you last night was that…Joshua is…he's not you."

"Is-is that good, or bad?" Ross asked hesitantly.

"It's…it's both, I guess.  I thought that I wanted a relationship where the future wasn't clear—it just seemed like you had everything planned out for me…and it scared me, you know?  I ran out on Barry to get away from that.  I left the security of my parent's money to get away from that."

"Rach, I didn't mean to trap you like that…I…I guess I just thought that we both wanted the same things."

"But you never asked me.  I was never a part of this future you had laid out for us."

"I didn't think I had to ask," Ross muttered darkly.

"Ross, please—"

"So what does Joshua have that I don't?" Ross asked sadly.

"He's…he's different in a lot of ways, Ross.  He's in a place in his life, where he doesn't know what he wants, and he isn't ready for a commitment to one person."

"And that's what you want?  Someone who won't commit?" Ross asked incredulously.

"I thought I did.  But then I realized that maybe I'm not ready for marriage, and kids, and the suburbs.  Maybe I want a few more years to focus on my career."

Ross nodded along, preparing himself for what was inevitably coming next.  He fought back tears, and was surprised when Rachel moved toward him, and took his hand in hers.

"But I do want you.  And when I am ready for all of that, I want it all with you.  I love you Ross, so much."

Ross' eyes lit up, and he smiled broadly.

"I love you too, Rach, so much."

"And you're okay with putting off the future for a while longer?" Rachel asked slowly.

"Anything, as long as I have you," Ross whispered, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

"I love you," Rachel whispered.

"I love you," Ross replied, then kissed Rachel with all that he had.

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Tuesday

"So he actually flew her to Europe?" Chandler asked with disdain.

"Well, I mean, they only went to Italy…" Rachel smiled sympathetically.

"Oh, well that makes it better then," Chandler replied sarcastically.

"And she's seeing him again on Saturday," Rachel added quickly.

"What?  Is that why she's been avoiding me?" Chandler asked, hurt.

"No!  She's been…busy…with work," Rachel offered weakly.

"Right," Chandler shook his head.  "She really likes this guy, then?"

"She also likes you," Rachel said, "and I think you should go for it.  The only reason she's dating this guy is because she thinks that you just want to be friends.  Make her believe otherwise, and I guarantee she'll drop the billionaire like that," Rachel snapped her fingers to emphasize her point.

"And how, do you suggest, I go about topping Italy as a first date?" Chandler asked incredulously.

"Try thinking with something other than this," Rachel tapped Chandler's forehead with her finger.

Chandler arched his eyebrow knowingly.

"No, gutter boy!  I meant your heart," Rachel rolled her eyes.

"Fine…she's going out with him Saturday?"

"Yeah."

"So I have…four days."

"Three and a half, actually," Rachel pointed out.

"Don't you have to go…make out with Ross or something?"

"Jealous?" Rachel laughed.

"Not really," Chandler replied flatly, as Rachel floated out of his apartment.

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Wednesday

"Okay, remember honey, you need to make cookies for your whole class, okay?" Chandler said, as he straightened Isabelle's dress.

"But Daddy, Miss Harper didn't tell me anything about—"

"She told me, honey," Chandler interrupted quickly, then smiled sweetly, "Ready?"

Isabelle nodded and Chandler took her hand and led her out the apartment and across the hall.  Isabelle knocked loudly, and Chandler unconsciously ran his hand through his hair.

Monica opened the door slowly, an uncomfortable smile on her face.  She avoided Chandler's gaze, and there was a long moment of heavy silence.

"Hi Monica!" Isabelle finally yelled, breaking the tension.

"Well hello, Isabelle!  How are you?" Monica crouched down to hug the little girl.

"I have to make cookies!"

"What?" Monica glanced up at Chandler quizzically.

"Um, yeah, she wanted to see if you could…it's for her class…and I don't really know…" Chandler stammered nervously.

"You need my help?" Monica turned her attention to Isabelle again.

"Yeah!"

"Okay!  Come on in," Monica took Isabelle's hand, and led her into the kitchen.  Chandler followed quietly, closing the door behind him then standing nervously in Monica's entryway.

"I think that we need to teach your dad how to make cookies, don't you?" Monica asked, and looked over at Chandler, smiling.

Chandler relaxed slightly, then made his way into the kitchen.

"Yeah, so I don't have to bug Monica anymore," he smiled, and winked at Isabelle.

"You're not bugging me," Monica replied softly, "I love to cook."

Chandler smiled slightly, and shoved his hands into his pockets.  He held Monica's gaze for a moment, but she broke it and turned her attention to Isabelle.

"Okay, let's get all of the ingredients we'll need!" she said, and told herself that the way Chandler was looking at her was all in her mind.

"No, Daddy, you are making them too big!" Isabelle whined, as Chandler slapped a large chunk of cookie dough onto the cookie sheet.  Both Isabelle and Monica were meticulously placing evenly sized chunks onto the sheet.

"What, I like big man-sized cookies!" Chandler replied in an exaggeratedly deep voice.

Isabelle laughed, and to Chandler's delight, so did Monica.

"It's too big, it messes up the system," Isabelle whined.

"Okay, you've been spending too much time with Monica," Chandler said, horrified.

"Hey!" Monica laughed, and tossed cookie batter at Chandler.

Laughing, Chandler tossed some back.

"You're making a mess!" Monica squealed.

"You started it!" Chandler laughed, and pressed a large piece of dough into Monica's face.

"Oh, you are so dead!" Monica screamed, and grabbed the 'man-sized cookie' that Chandler had made.  She moved to shove it into Chandler's face, but he grabbed her wrist before she made contact.  Giving her a wicked smile, he grabbed a large hung of dough from her hand with his teeth, inadvertently licking her palm as he did.

She pulled away in shock, but quickly masked her feelings with an indignant stare.  She stood silently, and moved to wash the remainder of the dough off in the sink.  Chandler turned his attention back to Isabelle, who was still dutifully placing dough onto the sheets, and as he turned, Monica pulled back the collar of his shirt, and dropped the dough down his back.

"I win," she whispered in his ear, sending a jolt of electricity through him.  Unable to reply, he instead focused on Isabelle, ignoring the chunk of dough that was sliding down his back.

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Thursday

Determined not to blatantly use his daughter to win over Monica (again), Chandler instead decided to stop into her restaurant to surprise her for lunch.

He hadn't yet been to the new restaurant—he supposed that it was his own form of denial—this restaurant was Pete's world, and one he shared with Monica.  Swallowing heavily, he opened the door, and was met with the pleasant smell of Monica's innovative cooking, and the warm sounds of the afternoon lunch rush.

"Can I help you, sir?" a bubbly blonde asked, as he approached the hostess podium.

"Um, actually I'm looking for Monica Geller," Chandler smiled his most charming smile.

"Okay…let me see if she's on the list," the blonde looked down at the reservation list in front of her.

"Um, no-no, she's…a chef?" Chandler corrected, and the girl looked up at him, momentarily confused.

"Oh!" she finally replied, "I'm sorry…I'm new.  Are you her boyfriend?"

"Um, no," Chandler said quietly, "I'm her…neighbor."

"Oh, okay, well, follow me," the girl said blankly, and began walking toward the kitchen.  Chandler smiled slightly, and realized that he could have told the girl he was here to rob the place, and she would have probably led him to the kitchen.

As they approached the kitchen, Chandler could see Monica rushing between the counter and the stove.  Her was face flush with heat, and strands of hair that had escaped her once-neat ponytail were sticking to her cheeks and forehead.  The hostess pushed open one of the swinging doors, and stepped halfway into the kitchen.

"Monica, your neighbor is here to see you!" she called out, though it was clear that the girl had no idea which person Monica was.

Monica spun around, looking thoroughly aggravated and confused, and the hostess quickly excused herself. Monica quickly wiped her brow with the arm of her uniform, and approached Chandler quickly.

"Chandler, what's wrong?" Monica asked, panicked.

"What?  Oh, nothing, I just wanted to see if you had time for a break is all," Chandler smiled.

Monica furrowed her brow, then looked over her shoulder.

"I really don't, I'm sorry.  This is just not a good time," Monica said, her voice hurried.

"Oh.  Sorry, I just—"

"I'll talk to you later, okay?" Monica said shortly, and turned back toward the kitchen.

"Sorry," Chandler muttered, and exited the kitchen hurriedly.

Monica walked into her apartment and was surprised, and slightly relieved, to find it empty.  She assumed that Rachel was at Ross', as the couple had been nearly inseparable since their reunion on Sunday.  Sighing deeply, Monica walked into her bedroom to change out of her chef's uniform.  Changing quickly, she walked to the bathroom to freshen up, before walking over to Chandler's.  She felt she owed him an apology for being so short with him earlier in the day.

She turned on the water, and splashed her face a few times, before glancing up at her reflection in the mirror.  She sighed heavily, and shook her head—why did she care so much how she looked?  Why did she care what Chandler thought anymore?  Looking at herself again, she felt a small rush of guilt course through her.

Why was she going out with Pete again, when she hadn't given him a second thought all week?

Sighing again, she patted her face dry, and adjusted her hair, before walking across the hall to Chandler's.

She knocked, and shortly, she heard footsteps.  Chandler opened the door, and smiled tightly.

"Hey," Monica said softly.

"Hey," Chandler replied, "come on in."

"Thanks," Monica walked into the apartment, and Chandler closed the door behind her.

"I'm sorry, for coming over to your place today…I should have realized—"

"No, Chandler I'm sorry.  I was so rude—"

"It was my fault, I was being an idiot—"

"No, you weren't.  I thought it was sweet.  None of my other friends have come down to the restaurant yet," Monica smiled.

Chandler's face fell, but he covered it quickly, "Well, you know, my office isn't that far away…"

"Well, then you should come by more often!  Just, um, not between 12 and 2," Monica laughed.

"Right," Chandler chucked, "Anyway, the place looks nice."

"Thanks.  I really like it, and Pete lets me do whatever I want."

At the mention of Pete's name, Chandler took a small step back, and looked at his shoes.

"He sounds like a cool guy," Chandler said, "for a billionaire."

"Yeah," Monica said, "you okay?"

"Yeah, I just…I should go check on Iz.  I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"Um, yeah, okay," Monica replied, confused at Chandler's sudden change in mood, "See ya."

She watched, as he turned toward Isabelle's room, before turning and walking out of the apartment.  Suddenly, she felt frustration flare up inside her, and she turned and walked back into Chandler's apartment unannounced.

He was closing Isabelle's door, and looked up, wide-eyed, as she walked in.

"Are we friends, Chandler?" Monica asked.

"Yeah," Chandler replied, confused.

"Are we friends even if I am dating Pete Becker?" she asked pointedly.

"Y-yeah," Chandler repeated, with slightly less enthusiasm.

"Are we?" Monica walked toward him, "because your answer didn't seem very sincere."

"Monica, what are you—"

"Chandler, if we are friends, then we are friends no matter what.  If we aren't…then we should stop pretending that we are, okay?"

"Y-yeah, I guess."

"Good.  So, you're okay with me dating Pete then?"

No!  No, tell her no! Chandler screamed at himself, Tell her!!

But he looked down at her, and saw that her eyes were pleading for the right answer.

Reluctantly, he gave her what he thought she wanted.

"Yes, I am totally okay with you dating Pete," he lied, and well.

He could have sworn he saw disappointment in her sapphire eyes, but she smiled quickly, and nodded, before leaving silently.

You idiot.

He shook his head, and shuffled toward Isabelle's room.  She was already sound asleep, but he walked in and crouched down over her, and ran his fingers through her hair.

"I think I just made a horrible mistake," he whispered to his daughter's sleeping form, "because I think that Monica is our second chance.  You need a mommy, you know?  And as much as I tried to fight it, I need someone to love too.  Your mom is very special to me, honey, but I can't do this alone anymore.  And I know that she would want us to be happy.  And I think Monica could make us very happy," Chandler kissed Isabelle softly on the forehead, before standing up, and retreating to his own bedroom for the night.

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Friday

Monica sighed as she wiped the stainless steel countertop, her back and legs aching from chaos of the dinner shift.  She sighed, and rinsed out the cloth, before laying it on the sink and pulling her apron and hat off.

Her conversation with Chandler had been running through her mind all day.  He seemed truly sincere when he said that he was okay with her dating Pete, and though she tried to hide it, and to deny it to herself, she was disappointed.  She was certain that she had seen the signs over the past few days—signs that his jealousy over Pete had spurned him into action.  The intense way he had looked at her when they were making cookies; the surprise visit to her restaurant; the way his mood had darkened when she had inadvertently mentioned Pete—the signs were there, weren't they?

Or maybe it was all just wishful thinking—maybe it was all in her head.

She headed home, determined to keep her mind off of Chandler, so that by the time Pete came to pick her up on Saturday night, she would be completely focused on him.

Monica keyed into her apartment, and headed directly for the shower.  It had been a long night, and she felt grungy.

She took a long, hot shower, then pulled on her robe and walked out into the apartment, feeling refreshed.

She changed into track pants and an oversized sweatshirt, and decided that ice cream sounded absolutely perfect for dinner.

Smiling, she headed toward the kitchen.

That was when she noticed it.

She was certain it hadn't been there when she'd come in.

It was a single tea light candle, burning in a clear glass container, in the middle of her kitchen table.

Curious, she walked toward the table, and noticed a note, sitting under the candle.

She picked up the note, and opened it slowly, her hands trembling with anticipation.

I see the stars, and they shine only for you…

The note was so cryptic—what did it mean?  She looked around the apartment, trying to figure out what to do next.

"I see the stars…stars…" she muttered to herself.  Maybe she's supposed to go to the roof?  Shrugging, she grabbed her coat and pulled it on as she walked out of the apartment.  She closed her door, and glanced at Chandler's closed door.  The light in the apartment was on—he must be home.  A short wave of disappointment coursed through her, as she realized that Pete must have set this up.  She sighed, mentally scolding herself for her initial disappointment.  She turned, and walked toward the stairs that led to the roof, and she noted that each step had a similar candle sitting on it—a clear indication that she was headed in the right direction.

Wrapping her coat around her, she shuffled up the stairs, following the candles up to the roof.  Taking a deep breath, and forcing herself to want Pete to be standing on the roof, she slowly opened the heavy metal door.

The door opened with a creak, and Monica stepped out onto the roof.  It was pitch black, and completely quiet.  Confused, she looked up to the sky, hoping to at least see a few stars.  But as it had been all day, the sky was completely overcast, hiding any star that may be shining.

"Hello?" Monica ventured, her voice echoing slightly.

Behind her, she heard a switch being thrown, and moments later, the roof was alight with hundreds of shining white pearl lights.

They were draped around the perimeter of the roof, and in long, grand strands high above her head, sparkling like stars against the charcoal sky.

Music drifted into the air; a familiar tune, soft and low.

And despite the fact that she wanted the person behind all this to be someone else, she couldn't help but to smile.

It was utterly romantic, after all.

She heard footsteps crunching on gravel, and she took a deep breath, and turned to see Pete's silhouette before her.

She smiled, but as he stepped into the light, her heart, and the world around her stopped.

Dressed in a sharp black suit and striking blue tie, Chandler had never looked more dashing.

He smiled, and approached her slowly, a single red rose in his hands.

"Hi," he whispered, as he stepped in front of her.

"Hello," Monica managed, though her eyes were watering and her throat was closing in on her, "I was hoping it was you," she whispered, "I was hoping so much."

"It's me," Chandler smiled, and gently wiped a tear from her cheek, "Turns out I'm not okay with us being friends who date other people who are billionaires."

Monica laughed, and Chandler handed her the rose.

"I'm sorry I took so long to come around."

"I'm sorry I went out with Pete," Monica replied softly.

"I'm sorry that I couldn't afford Italy," Chandler smiled.

"I'd rather be here, with you," Monica looked up at Chandler, and he leaned down and kissed her softly.  He pulled away, and wiped the remaining tears from her face.

"I told myself that all I needed was a new city, and I would be okay.  Iz would be okay.  Turns out, I was wrong.  I love you, Monica.  I love you," he whispered.

"I love you too," Monica smiled, and Chandler kissed her again, deeply, and passionately. 

As they kissed, Monica felt something tickle her face.  She opened her eyes, and pulled away from Chandler, her face lighting up like the lights that surrounded them.

"It's snowing!"

Chandler looked up, then back down at Monica, who had her head tilted back, and her eyes closed, allowing the snowflakes to dance merrily off her face.

"It's gorgeous," he whispered, and wrapped his arms around her waist.  She opened her eyes, and looked up at him, smiling.

"Gorgeous," he whispered again, and kissed her softly.

AN: Epilogue up soon.