Finally, Family

There have been a few occasions throughout the years when Monica thought that she might actually murder her husband. This was not some empty hyperbolic reaction. She contemplated literally murdering him. When she did have these fleeting, momentary homicidal fantasies, she wondered if anyone would turn her in or if any judge and jury would ever declare her to be guilty, if they found out exactly what he did to deserve his fate. She was certain that all she had to do was put his demise in context and everyone would nod in agreement that he brought it upon himself.

Chief among his many transgressions were the numerous times she had caught him smoking, long after he swore to her that he would quit. He tried to hide the evidence of his nicotine habit with innumerable sticks of gum and a seemingly endless supply of deodorant aerosol spray cans, but the stench of cigarette smoke was always there, no matter what he did. She would find that foul scent on the collar of his shirt or deep in the fibers of his jacket. She could smell it in his hair and even on the tips of his fingers. No matter how hard he tried to scrub it away, she always found out. Each time he would promise her it was the last time, but that vow would only last until the next time he was caught. No matter how much she cajoled and bribed him or threatened strict punishment, he would eventually break down and smoke again. It was infuriating and made her blood boil.

Shortly after they started to live together, she made a habit of searching the apartment when he was gone. She knew all of his favorite hiding spots, and she prided herself on being able to discover his new one too. Even when they moved out to Westchester, she located his emergency pack taped to the back of the washing machine. Outthinking her husband when it came to his meager attempts to conceal his dirtiest habit was fairly easy. Getting her husband to quit smoking though, was her white whale.

There was also the aggravating habit Chandler had of making jokes at the most inappropriate times that could earn her ire. It did not seem to matter the venue or the audience, if he was feeling uncomfortable, his mouth would start working overtime. Funerals, doctor's visits, in front of her parents, around her coworkers, when they were having dinner with his boss, while they were meeting with the people from the adoption agency, and when they went over their mortgage application with the loan officer at the bank. He simply could not help himself. It was a compulsion, and Monica found that often, it was infuriating.

She would try to block it out at times, and turn his poorly timed jokes into white noise. She would often encourage anyone else present to do the same thing. Yet, every now and then, one of his terrible jokes would get through to her, and most of the time that would happen, those were the jokes that were the most personal and embarrassing. All she could do in the moment was share a quick. mortified glance with whoever they were with and then shoot an admonishing glare at her husband to communicate her frustration with his poor sense of tact.

Then there were the rules he would constantly break. No shoes on the table. Fasten the garbage can lids tight before putting them on the curb so raccoons can't get into them. Don't drink from the milk carton, even if you are finishing off the last of it. Don't sit down on the couch while you are still wearing your sweaty gym clothes. And above all else, always make sure to put the lids of things that you use back on tightly. Each and every one of these sensible and well thought out rules seemed impossible for him to follow consistently, which led to today's transgression, and resulted in Monica wondering if she could get away with smothering him just slightly with his pillow tonight. Not enough to actually hurt him, but just enough to send a message.

Before she had discovered this latest trespass from her husband, Monica was having a wonderful afternoon. She brought the twins to the gymnastics center this morning all by herself, which was a feat unto itself. Two diaper bags, two separate snack bags and sets of bottles. Extra clothes, face wipes, hand wipes, and a few small toys to keep them occupied if one of them lost interest in what the gymnasium had to offer before the other one. Just packing everything up before they left felt like a herculean task.

When she arrived at the gym, she was able to get them both out of their car seats and into the building with relative ease and minimal fussing. The twins ran into the play area with enthusiasm, stumbling around on their stubby little legs as they tried to touch everything in the room. They played wonderfully with each other and the rest of the children who were there today, and Erica even shared a wedge mat she was using as a slide with another little boy. When it was time for a snack and water break, they both sat down next to her patiently and finished everything she offered them to eat and drink before going back out to play once more.

When they got back home, she prepared lunch and tried a few new food items for them to eat; she was pleasantly surprised that they both took to the sliced avocado rather well. After they ate, she took them into the backyard and they took turns on the toddler slide that she and Chandler had purchased over the summer. Once it appeared as if they were losing steam and the two of them started to flash her their half-moon eyelids, she put them both down for a nap. Neither child struggled to stay awake as they normally would, worried that they might miss some earth-shattering event, and instead, they quietly drifted off to sleep.

While Jack and Erica took their nap, she was able to take some time and prepare dinner; salmon with dill sauce, carrots and roasted potatoes. Everything was ready in short order, and all she had to do was heat it up once Chandler got home. She then focused on some meal prep for the twins, ensuring that there was enough food for the two of them for the rest of the week while she was at work. Each container labeled with what meal it was, and how much of it to feed each child.

She took some time and called her mother while she did her work in the kitchen. They talked more about her and Chandler's decision to try and adopt another baby. She was pleasantly surprised at how supportive her mother has been to the idea of them bringing another child into their home. She was certain she would receive the usual Judy Geller passive-aggressive criticisms that seemed to come with every choice she made. She wondered as she hung up the phone, if maybe her mother was finally starting to accept that Monica wasn't some kind of screw up that needed to be saved from her own poor judgment.

Lastly, as naptime came close to an end, Monica started working on putting together her monthly packet for Erica. Every month she would go through photos and pick a few to send to the twins birth-mother with a letter on how they were doing and what milestones they may have achieved. Erica herself was about to start college, and she asked for some advice from Monica and Chandler during the summer, since she didn't know anyone else who had ever gone to college. She had no plans to visit with Jack and Erica, and Monica never pushes her to in any of her letters. Erica has told them that she loves receiving the updates. They have tried to discuss what to do if the kids ever want to meet her when they were older; and the only answer the three of them have been able to come up with, is that they would all talk about it when that day came. Monica was proud of how well she kept in touch with Erica, and she felt as if they were all on the same page for the most part. The three of them, committed to working together, to do what was best for the twins when it came to their adoption. She silently hoped that with whoever the birth mother of their next child would be, that they have just as easy a time getting along with them as they do with Erica.

Just as Monica was about to sign off on this month's letter, she heard a thumping sound coming from upstairs which she assumed was one of the twins waking up and shifting around in their crib. It was just a small noise, but Monica was always on alert, and it was enough to get her attention. Knowing her children and how long it takes for them to wake up from a nap, she had assumed that she had time to finish meticulously packing up the packet for Erica.

Once she was done, she put the envelope aside and made her way to the stairs. When she reached the top step, she heard a shuffling sound that made her nervous. It no longer sounded as if one of the twins was moving around in their crib and more like they were stumbling across the floor.

She nervously flung open the door and her eyes went wide in shock and horror as Jack turned around to face her. He was down on the floor, wrist deep into a tub of Desitin. Her eyes darted around as she noticed little white, creamy handprints all over everything in the room. There was Desitin on the window sill, the walls, the cribs, the floor, the closet door, and on toys that were spread across the room. The worst sight of all was Jack's little face, covered in the sticky white substance. It looked as though he had taken a bath in it.

"Jack! How did you get out of your crib?"

Jack looked up at her and reached out one of his chubby little hands, which was covered in the white, creamy diaper rash lotion.

"Oh Jack. Oh no. This is going to be take forever to clean up! Mama is going to be working on this all night! Who left the lid so loose that you could get into it?"

Jack looked over at the changing table where he retrieved the tub of Desitin and then back at Monica. "Dada."

"That's right. Dada. Because he never…." Suddenly Monica cut herself off and she looked back down at Jack. "Wait. What did you just say? Did you say 'Dada'?"

Jack looked back over towards the changing table and then back at his mother. "Dada."

"Jack, I don't know what I am prouder of, that you just said your first word or that you sold your father out to me, proving that you are on my team!"

Every time the door to Central Perk opened and a new customer walked in, Chandler turned his head to see who it was. He found it odd that he was slightly on edge, but ever since Phoebe called him at his office and asked him to meet her and Mike here, his mind was racing. While he and Phoebe were good friends, she rarely called him up, let alone arranged to meet with him by himself. Most of their interaction was when they were part of a group. The fact that she added the very cryptic condition, "I need to talk to you before I talk to Monica", led him to worry that something might be wrong.

Finally, as the door opened again for what felt like the one-hundredth time since he got to the coffee house, Mike entered and he smiled when he saw Chandler, offering him a head nod as a greeting. Phoebe was close behind him. She shuffled her feet as she reached the chair next to the couch Chandler had been seated at.

Mike settled down on the arm of the couch and looked over at Phoebe. "I'm telling you that was him!"

"I'm telling you, that I don't really know who you are talking about."

Chandler looked over at the two of them, a slight expression of confusion danced upon his brow. "Hey guys."

Mike spun around to face Chandler, his tone seemed serious, yet excited. "Hey, Chandler. You know who Paul Williams is, right? I think Phoebe and I just walked past him on our way here."

Chandler sat up straight and allowed a giddy chuckle to escape his lips. "Paul Williams? Are you kidding me?"

Phoebe looks at the two of them, completely dumbfounded. She then turned her attention to Chandler as she jabbed her thumb in Mike's direction. "You know who he is talking about?"

Mike shared a condescending look with Chandler and shook his head. Chandler slid over to the edge of his seat and he bounced up and down excitedly. "Are you kidding? You ever hear of an epic movie musical called 'Phantom of the Paradise'?"

Phoebe stared back at him, blankly.

Chandler waved her off and then started to sing. " Roll on thunder, shine on lightning… "

Mike smiled as he nodded and then cut Chandler off as he began to sing the next part. " The days are long and the nights are frightening. "

The two of them shared one more excited glance at each other as they start to sing together. " Nothing matters anyway and that's the hell of it! "

Chandler began to play air guitar as Mike pretended that he was playing keyboards. The two men exaggerated their movements by humming the tune to the song together. Chandler nodded and smiled at Mike. "Oh man, you would have been great in our band back in college."

Phoebe, finally becoming annoyed, slaps her hands down on her legs. "Oh my God! You two have to stop this. Monica was right." Both men looked over at Phoebe, their faces filled with confusion. She exhaled sharply, sat back, and folded her arms. "I just think maybe you two should see other people."

Chandler looked nervously at Mike, but then shook his head at Phoebe. "I can't believe you don't know who Paul Williams is. He wrote so many great songs."

Mike, joined Chandler in his enthusiasms as he tried to tick off the names of the songs he has written. "Evergreen"

Chandler nodded and then held his hand out. "Talk it over in the morning."

Both men looked at each other again and nodded as they each started to sing again. " We've only just begun. "

Chandler rubbed his hands together and sat back. Mike patted him on the shoulder and then looked over at Phoebe. "We should totally have a listening party one day at our place. I can bring out my old record player."

Chandler started to bob his head up and down enthusiastically. "You know what? I still have a whole bunch of vinyl's that Monica made me put in the attic. I bet we could find some real gems there."

"Ooo! We should rent Phantom of the Paradise and watch it!"

Phoebe, finally having enough of their conversation and watching the two men bond of shared interests, huffed out loud. "Mike! Maybe you can get us some coffee and I can talk to Chandler alone for a minute?"

Mike nodded quickly and stood up. "Oh, yeah, okay. Sure. Decaf?"

Phoebe nodded in response. "Yes please."

"Chandler? Anything?"

"No Mike, I'm good. Unless they got a copy of the soundtrack to the Secret of Nimh back there!"

Phoebe shook her head and started to look around the room incredulously. "What did I marry into?"

Mike walked away towards the counter and Chandler sat up on the edge of the couch again. "So, uh, Pheebs, you wanted to talk?"

Phoebe got up from the chair and sat down next to Chandler on the couch. "Yes. Look, I know what you and Monica went through…and well…"

Chandler broke eye contact with Phoebe and nodded slowly. "Yeah. I know."

"Anyway, I didn't know how to talk about this, or how to tell you guys, but, well, I'm pregnant again."

Chandler sat back as he turned his eyes up to her again. "Oh. Uh, wow. So soon?"

"What?"

"Didn't you just have Fiona?"

"You mean Fee Bea?"

"Yeah."

"She'll be a year old in a couple of months, and we didn't plan for this, but, well, I guess I'm just really fertile. You know, I was born during the goddess moon."

Chandler rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Oh, well, sure, that explains it."

"Anyway, I wasn't sure how to tell Monica. She means so much to me. You know how much I lover her, and I want to share this with her but I'm worried that she might, uh.."

"Get sad?"

Phoebe reluctantly nodded as she looked down. "Yeah."

Chandler took her hand in his and gently pat it. "Well, Pheebs, she probably will be sad at first, but she loves you, and in the end she'll be really happy for you just like I am right now."

Phoebe let out a slow smile, displaying a vulnerability that Chandler had not seen often in all the years that they have been friends. "Really?"

"Yes." Chandler gave her a tight hug and Phoebe smiled at their embrace. "Congratulations Phoebe, I am really happy for you guys." They pull apart and Phoebe quickly wiped away a tear that had started to form under her eye. "You know what. Why don't you and Mike come over for dinner this weekend. You can bring Fiona…"

Phoebe sternly cut him off. "Fee Bea!"

Chandler sighed and shook his head. "Fine. Fee Bea. Anyway, you could tell Monica that night over dinner."

"Yeah? You think that's a good idea?"

"Sure I do. Anyway, we will probably have a laugh about it once we realize what you guys are in store for. You and Mike will be joining our club and having two little ones at the same time. It'll be so much fun watching the both of you lose your minds."

Phoebe laughed and pat his hand with her own. She let her hand linger on his as she smiled up at him. "Thanks. I didn't know who else to talk to." The two of them sat quietly for a moment as they waited for Mike to return with their drinks. Phoebe looked around the room and then turned back to Chandler and smiled. "You know, I really hope you two get to adopt again soon. I'm so happy you both decided to do that. Any baby would be lucky to have the two of you as their parents."

"Thanks Pheebs. The idea of adding another baby with the twins is kind of scary, but it feels right to us."

"It's nice, isn't it?"

Chandler flashed a quizzical look at her. "What's nice?"

"To finally have a family. You and I, we never really had that before."

Chandler smiled and nodded. "Yeah. It is nice."

When Chandler walked into the front door, he could immediately smell the delicious aroma of whatever Monica had been cooking for dinner. He took off his suit jacket and placed it on the back of the chair in the living room as he slowly made his way towards the kitchen. "Mon?"

He then heard his wife's voice call to him from upstairs. "Chandler? Is that you? You have to come up here now!"

Chandler looked around the room nervously and then jogged upstairs. "Where are you?"

"The twins' room. Hurry!"

Chandler briskly walked over and gently pushed open the door to Jack and Erica's room. He quickly made eye contact with Monica and tilted his head in confusion. "What's going on?"

Monica lifted Jack from the changing table and looked over at Chandler. "Jack, do you know who that is?" Jack remained silent as he looked at Monica. "Come on Jackie boy, you said it before." She then turned her attention towards Chandler. "He did it earlier today and I wanted to surprise…" her eyes dropped down as she stopped talking and she fixated her stare at her husband's shoes. "Why are you still wearing your shoes?"

Chandler looked down at himself. "What?"

Monica started to gesture angrily at his feet. "You're still wearing your shoes. We agreed, no shoes on the second floor. Now you probably tracked dirt all over the carpet."

"I'm confused. Is this what you called me up here for?"

Monica huffed as she blew some hair out of her face and shifted Jack in her arms. "No. I wanted to show you that Jack knows who the messy one in the house is, the one who can't seem to follow all the rules."

Chandler smirked and began to remove his shoes. "Oh yeah? Who might that be?"

Jack, gripped at Monica's shirt and then turned his head towards his father. "Dada."

A/N – Just some timeline stuff: Phoebe gave birth to her first daughter in December of 2004. Monica had her miscarriage at the beginning of June 2005. So, in this story, it is now mid-August 2005.