Monica folded the egg whites into the cheese mixture, then carefully spooned that into a blini pan. She set the pan into the oven and closed the door. Immediately she turned to the sauce, her agitation growing. It was too soon, too soon, it was all going to be ruined.

To her relief the door opened. Monica looked over her shoulder at Chandler. "My God, where have you been?"

Chandler blinked at her. "Wrestling alligators in the sewer for change so I could afford the subway ride home. I would have just torn apart a parking meter if I'd known there was a deadline involved."

"Well, set the table." She'd been so involved in the meal prep she'd had no time to do anything else. "We have to eat in ten minutes."

Rushing to the cupboard, Chandler spoke in a voice meant to resemble a computer. "There are now ten minutes to total destruction." Then in a tone of faux-panic, "Get the plates on the table, now, by God, or we're all gonna die!"

Monica wavered on the verge of yelling at Chandler. How a man in his early twenties could still act like a kindergartener she'd never know. After a brief struggle, she managed a terse, "Get the salad out of the refrigerator."

Chandler nodded as he grabbed napkins from the drawer. Monica went back to her sauce, keeping an eye on the clock.

A minute later Phoebe came home. This was almost enough to make Monica relax; there'd be enough people here to make the preparation worthwhile. After greeting Chandler, Phoebe commented, "That's the prettiest salad I've ever seen."

"Yeah. Y'know, Mon, you should consider having it laminated and used as a centerpiece."

"It's a cucumber salad, not a piece of art." Monica looked through the oven window, trying to judge the readiness of the soufflé.

"Could have fooled me," Chandler said. "I've never seen a salad that looked so symmetrical. It's like you individually aligned every single item into the bowl."

That was unfortunately close to the truth, so Monica didn't reply.

Phoebe, meanwhile, wandered over to the window. "Hey, Cute Naked Man is using gravity boots."

"You have naked people living across from you?" Chandler went to the window and did an exaggerated double-take. "Cute? You call that cute?"

"I think she means that what he does is cute rather than that he looks cute," Monica interjected.

"Well, whatever it is, it's not improved by looking at it upside down." Chandler patted Phoebe on the shoulder. "Enjoy the show, I'd rather watch Monica squat in front of the oven."

Monica glared at Chandler, then growled and looked back through the oven window. Almost time. "Go ahead and sit down, this is best when served hot and fresh, so don't go anywhere."

Chandler walked towards the door. "Let me go get Kip quick."

"No!" Monica's shout perfectly coincided with Phoebe's. Monica pressed her lips firmly together as Phoebe continued, "Kip's not invited."

"He's not? He, he and Monica... they... when, when did this happen?"

"Over the weekend." Phoebe's voice was uncharacteristically subdued. "She's still in a bit of shock, so be nice to her."

"Okay!" Monica's voice came out more loudly than she meant. She tried to bring it down a few decibels as she put on her oven mitts. "It's done, sit down."

Chandler, she was relieved to notice, made no further comments as he sat at the table. Monica drizzled the sauce over the soufflé and served Phoebe and Chandler generous portions. After serving herself, she sat down and took a bite. It was quite hot, but reasonably good.

Dinner passed in relative silence, which was quite unusual. Monica didn't mind, since any conversation would surely be about topics she preferred not to discuss. Afterwards she shooed the others out of the kitchen as she committed herself to the task of cleaning up.

Phoebe and Chandler went to the living room but, in another unusual event, didn't turn on the television. They sat and Chandler described with increasing animation the shows he had seen in Atlantic City. Monica listened as she did the dishes and found his comic descriptions and Phoebe's delighted responses to be quite soothing.

Monica finished up and went into the living room. She sat on the couch next to Phoebe and watched Chandler mimic a showgirl's dance routine. Phoebe was laughing hard and Monica smiled, enjoying Chandler's antics for once.

Behind her the door opened and Ross called out, "Hey, sorry I'm late."

"Too bad for you, the soufflé is cold now." Monica rose and turned as she spoke. "But if you want to heat-"

She stopped. Standing next to Ross was Kip. They'd evidently come in together. Kip was looking straight at her, his eyes were on her face, and she felt her skin crawl as a result. She shuddered once, mumbled, "Excuse me," and walked quickly towards her bedroom. She stepped inside, closed the door, and immediately leaned on it, her heart racing and her knees weak. Inwardly she berated herself. You're stronger than this, don't let him get to you, he's still Chandler's roommate, no reason to let him affect you like this.

But she couldn't, she just couldn't. Couldn't look at him, couldn't stand to be in his presence, couldn't bear listening to that voice. She'd invested too much of herself in what had turned out to be a false persona, and every little reminder of that hurt her deeply.

With her head next to the door, she could actually hear the conversation in the living room fairly well. It started with Phoebe saying, "Get out."

"What? Why? What, what, what did I do wrong?"

"Not you, Ross. It."

"Uh, 'it' being?"

"You know who." Phoebe's voice sounded acerbic.

"Kip and Monica broke up." Chandler, in a serious tone of voice.

"They, they did? What..." Ross's voice got dark, threatening. "What did you do to my sister?"

"Nothing. I swear to God, nothing. We, we just had a fight. I was hoping I could apologize to her."

"There are some things you can apologize for." Phoebe's tone matched Ross's perfectly. "But you can't apologize for being what you are. And that is a slimy despicable human being that's not worthy of a wonderful woman like Monica."

"Hey, look, I don't know what she told you, but I did everything I could for her. She came after me, don't forget."

"So that gives you the right to treat her however you want to?" Chandler's voice was low but not as angry as the others. "I don't know the specifics of whatever fight you two had, but I saw the way you were with her. It felt like you were clubbing a cavewoman over the head and dragging her off to your lair. Monica's a beautiful and intelligent woman and she deserves a hell of a lot more than to be simply your latest conquest."

"Oh come on, man, it wasn't anything like that. I, I liked her a lot, she-"

Phoebe interrupted him, spoke words with the force of bullets. "The very fact that you said you liked her rather than loved her shows how little she meant to you. Now, we're done trying to explain exactly how unworthy of Monica you were. Get out before I make you get out."

Silence dragged on for a minute. Then Monica heard the front door open and close, and she slid down the down and sat, weak with relief.

"I, I'm sorry, I saw him in the hallway and, and sort of led him in, I, I, I didn't know-"

"Of course you didn't." Phoebe's voice was much more friendly now. "It's his fault, not yours.

"When did this happen?"

"This weekend. She caught him in a big lie and finally realized what a phony he is."

"Well, I can't say I'm unhappy. I, I never really thought he was that great a guy. I, I'm sorta glad they broke up."

"Easy for you to say, I still have to live with him."

"Stop it, both of you. I don't care how Monica's breakup affects you guys. I only care about how it affects Monica."

"Sorry Pheebs, you're right. How's she been?"

"She'll be fine. She's been exercising a lot, and when she's not exercising she's cleaning. Or cooking. Too bad you missed dinner, Ross, it was a treat."

"I, I met Carol for dinner, we, we hadn't eaten together since- but, but is Monica really fine? She's not overdoing all of that?"

"Well, she is, but in a good way. Her aura gets murky and then she works extra hard at something and gets less murky. In time he won't be able to poison her aura anymore and she'll be over him. Just, just treat her normally, she needs that. After dinner she was almost back to normal, and that after only a couple of days. This is kind of a setback but I think she'll recover quickly. Just, just don't ask her a bunch of questions about him. She needs to get her mind off of him."

"Fair enough. Phoebe, thanks. Thanks for being there for my sister. I, I would have been useless to her."

"Me too. I would have tried to tell jokes then stuck my foot in mouth. I feel very good knowing that you're her friend. She's in good hands."

"Oh my." Phoebe sounded slightly flustered. "Oh, oh don't- I mean, anyone could have- I, oh, I'm nobody special, I just happen to live here."

"Stop that." Ross spoke with a kind of chiding amusement. "You are special. Don't try to tell yourself any differently."

"Yeah, what he said. No one makes my head spin like you do, but also no one cares for the people around her as much as you do."

"Th-thank you." Phoebe sounded deeply embarrassed. "Uh, let's, let's turn on television and watch stuff until Monica feels like coming out to talk to us again."

"Good idea. We can watch turtles doing jujitsu, that always cheers me up."

"That is so unrealistic.What kid of oozecangive turtles that kind of flexibility?"

"The same kind of ooze that makes your hair a shiny bulletproof thing of beauty, my man."

"Ha ha. What is that growing on your chin? Some kind of algae?"

"It's a goatee, man, it makes all the ladies swoon. Right Phoebe?"

"Well, y'know, only certain women. Like maybe marine biologists."

"Oooh, ouch. Score one for the Pheebster!"

Monica smiled and looked up at the ceiling. Thank you, God, for putting these people in my life.

Monica stood, turned, opened the door, and rejoined the world.

(to be continued)