A/N: Thanks for the awesome reviews! You've no idea how much I appreciate them :) And yeah, I've never read a fic with a C&M hook-up just after Ben's birth, either. I've always wondered why people didn't do this often. Personally, I consider it to be the best time they could have gotten together, you know, no Kathy, Richard or Pete and just a very little dose of Janice...

Okay, so now, this is the second chapter. Before you read it, I need to make this clear: Monica did not date "Young Ethan" (or anyone else) according to this story. At least, she didn't date him any time near Ben's birth (not in less than 3 months, to be on the safe side), because that just messes up my system.

Just as long as we're clear on that, on with the story!

Forever and a Day

Chapter 2

Present

She remembered his kisses. She remembered his touch. And she detested herself as she thought how much she had enjoyed them. He was her best friend, and now, they'd ruined everything in one stupid night, with one stupid mistake.

But it hadn't felt like a mistake when they'd made love, when he'd held her. It'd felt right. Disturbingly so. This brought tears to her eyes.

It was a mistake, and whether or not it'd felt right was inconsequential.

He was sitting still with his hands covering his face, his distress eminent from his demeanor. He suddenly lifted his face to look at her.

Tears still streaming down her face, her face red from crying, his arms ached to hold her close to him and comfort her, but he sat unmoving.

After a few seconds, he couldn't take it anymore. "Was I that bad?" he asked her slowly.

She looked up at him, surprised that he'd even said something. "What?"

"You've been crying for like the past fifteen minutes. Was I really that bad in bed?" he asked her again.

If the same question had come from any other man, she'd have thought that the guy was joking, but from Chandler, it came out as a genuinely curious question. She wanted to laugh out loud. On the contrary.

"No, not really." She shook her head, wiping away the tears that still kept falling.

"Then why are you crying?" he asked her softly, looking like he was on the verge of tears himself.

He knew exactly why she was crying.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Chandler, for how long have we been friends?"

He looked at her quizzically, not realizing the significance of the question. "Counting the day you cut my toe off, it's been six years." He smiled wryly, remembering that particular day.

"Six years, Chandler. We've risked six years of friendship for one drunken night. That's why I am crying." She wiped her cheeks again. "This friendship," she motioned between them, "means the world to me. I don't know if I've ever told you that in these six years. If I haven't, it just means that I am not good at expressing myself. I can't imagine my life without you, Chandler; without us." It was her deepest fear, and she hoped she'd effectively conveyed it to him. She didn't bother to brush her tears away this time as she met his eyes.

He was never good with words when he had to voice them. But now, he couldn't voice them as emotions choked him up.

Not knowing how to show her that her words had affected him so profoundly, he moved forward and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her hair softly. "Ditto, Mon. Ditto," he whispered into her hair. "I have no idea what I'll do without you, either," he sighed, stroking her arm gently. "But you know what, it won't come to that." He drew back to look at her with sudden conviction. "This was a stupid, one-time, drunken mistake, and I'll not let it ruin our friendship. We should not let it ruin our friendship." He looked at her, his eyes pleading. "So please don't let it, Monica." His voice low and unsure, it caught in his throat.

He wanted her to brush this night aside, act like nothing had happened. And he was right. What they meant to one another was a lot more valuable than one night of drunken sex.

She nodded. "It was a mistake," she repeated his statement and watched him as he too nodded.

They sat in perfect silence as they contemplated their next move. After few seconds, he broke it. "You know, whenever one of my colleagues says that he'd gotten so hammered that he hadn't even remembered whom he'd slept with, I always used to think, 'How could anyone possibly get that drunk?'. Now, I know exactly what they mean. Trust me, I am never going near alcohol again." He shook his head, chuckling.

She felt the smile forming on her lips and turned to look at him. But as she looked at his own smiling lips, her mind flashed with a vivid recollection of how they'd felt on her skin. She turned away, just as abruptly, a flush creeping up her face.

This 'pretending like nothing happened' thing was going to be a lot harder than she'd thought.

At that instant, he knew whether or not they liked it, this night had changed their friendship irrevocably.

"Maybe I should leave," she said slowly, venturing a look at his face again.

He nodded. "Let me just go check whether Joey's in." He clutched the sheets tightly around his waist, leaned across the bed and fetched his boxers from the floor. With some maneuvers under the sheets, he had his boxers on. He got off the bed and picked up his T-shirt from the floor and pulled it on on himself and reached the door. He stopped and turned back to look at her. "You should probably, um…" he finished his sentence by motioning to her clothes on the floor. She nodded as he left the room, closing the door behind him.

She dressed slowly, recovering her bra from its precarious position on the night stand and her panties from underneath the sheets. As she buttoned up her dress, she realized two buttons were missing. The sex sure had been passionate.

She sat on the bed, trying to collect herself physically and emotionally, waiting for him to come back.

He came in a few minutes later, after knocking the door twice, looking tired and spent. "Joey's asleep," he said in a low, hushed voice, as if he were scared that Joey would hear him if he spoke louder.

"Okay." She got off the bed, and brushed past him as she left his room and entered the living room. When she neared the door to his apartment, he called out for her.

"Mon, Mon, wait." He went to the counter and searched a drawer containing hundreds of keys. He pulled out one and handed it to her. "It's the spare key to your apartment. You might need it. Rachel may have locked the door."

"Thanks," she murmured, meeting his eyes before she turned to leave again.

"Mon..."

She turned around to look at him.

"I am sorry," he whispered, not quite understanding for what he was apologizing.

But she seemed to understand. She looked at him for a long second before she whispered back, "I know." Her eyes glassy from unshed tears, she looked into his eyes one last time. "Me too," she murmured before she left his apartment, closing the door softly behind her.

~.~

He had been right. Rachel had locked their apartment, probably thinking that she was already asleep in her room.

Monica closed the door gently behind her so as to not wake Rachel up, and locked it again. Making sure that her footsteps weren't making too loud a noise, she slowly went into her bedroom, closed the door and crawled into her bed.

She pulled the sheets closer to her, covering herself up to her chin, seeking solace in its warmth.

She closed her eyes, trying to ignore the random words and memories of the night that kept flashing in her mind. She hoped the sinking ship hadn't signified her friendship with Chandler.

She fell into a fitful sleep, oblivious to the life growing in her womb.

Your blue eyes are all I'd want for my baby.

You know what they say, be careful what you wish for.

~.~.~

A/N: A-woo-hoo! You won't believe how much I enjoyed writing this. Reading and writing Mondler romance and Mondler angst give you unrivaled pleasure :)