Chapter 4

A/N: Five days and counting. I think I might make it.

Crap, hope I didn't just jinx myself.

Also, wanted to clear up a little misunderstanding. Of course they don't celebrate Thanksgiving in England. I said that Ross and Emily use their vacation time to visit her family since the Gellers get Christmas.

Oh, and, yes, I didn't reveal who Chandler's wife is yet (little bit of evilness on my part, hehe). But I think the first line will give you a clue…

"Oh…my…God!"

Chandler winced, his usual reaction lately to hearing his wife's voice. Sneaking through the front door, at first he was horrified that she had caught him.

However, a second look proved that she had been on the phone in the kitchen of their apartment, her back turned to him.

Counting his blessings, Chandler made his way into the bedroom. At a rapid speed, he grabbed a towel, undressed, and turned the water on as he jumped in the shower.

"Ah! Holy crap!"

He'd made the mistake of only turning on the cold water. Shivering, he added some heat with the other knob and tried to calm himself down.

A minute later, the bathroom door was opened and Janice Bing poked her head in. "Chandler? What was that shout?"

"Um…I…ran out of hot water," Chandler lied. Going along with it, he switched off the water – both at the same time – and reached for his towel. "Sorry if I scared you."

"No, I'm just glad you're here! You've been in there for so long I was afraid you'd snuck out on me or something," Janice joked, letting out her usual grating laugh. However, there was a note of accusation in her tone – this wasn't the first shower he'd taken that lasted longer than a half hour.

The sound like nails scratching on the chalkboard of his mind, Chandler gritted his teeth. "No, no no, I was just…making sure I washed thoroughly. Dirt between your toes can be a real bitch if you don't keep up on it."

"I'll take your word for it," Janice wrinkled her nose at the image. "Get dressed quick, okay? Ma said she's gonna be here in ten minutes."

"Oh, in that case…" Chandler mockingly wrapped the towel around his waist in a flash and leaped out of the tub.

Janice only gave him an exasperated glance before going back to the kitchen, closing the door behind her.

"'Get dressed quick, okay?'" Chandler mimicked, securing the towel around his waist and getting out his toothbrush with deliberate slowness.

Finishing getting dressed five minutes later, he paused as he went to put on his sock. There was something about the fact that he had two toes that made him stare for a moment. Come to think of it, it did feel like he had been walking a little strangely all day. Shaking his head, he put on his sock, got on his shoes, and prepared himself for a day he predicted would be a walk in the park.

If that park was located in hell.

"Do need me to do anything?" Chandler asked, with a voice that clearly conveyed that he was offering against his will.

As usual, she took no heed of his reluctance and gestured to a full and tied garbage bag sitting in the corner. "Take that down to the dumpster. And since you're going to be out anyway, run down to that deli on the corner and get me some milk, eggs, and cinnamon."

"At your service," Chandler grunted, picking up the heavy bag and slinging it over his shoulder. He went into the living room, and was so startled he dropped the bag.

A German shepherd rested on one of the couches, his head on the arm. When Chandler entered, he let out a round of barks. "Whoa there…uh…"

"Aaron. Honestly, I know you don't love him, but I would think you'd remember his name after a few years," Janice chided, then continued to cook without bothering to quiet the dog down.

Chandler glanced from Janice, to the dog, and back. "Wha…when did I agree to get a dog?" Giving the shepherd a wary look, he inched his way towards the kitchen.

"Oh, don't even go there. After we got married, I wanted to have a baby, then get a dog when the baby was older. But oh no, Mr. Issues over here begged me to settle for Aaron," Janice ranted.

Not responding for a minute, Chandler thought about that, and the state their marriage was in. What happened to us?

He supposed it started with the fact that he hadn't really wanted to marry her in the first place. About right years ago, he was living in an apartment with Ross. They had both established that it would only be temporary though – they both agreed that they could not live together without it resulting in murder.

During that time he met Janice. They hit it off at first, but after a while her mannerisms got on his nerves. The two got together and broke up several times. Finally, they were together, and it was going pretty well. Months passed, and they got closer than they ever did before. A big help was that Ross and him were arguing almost every day over stupid apartment stuff, and Chandler would hide out at Janice's.

Eventually he was faced with their first anniversary. It got to the point where Chandler, not really having any other friends to spend his time with, was almost living at her apartment. He got to thinking how lonely he would be without her, how he seriously doubted he would ever be able to find anyone else. With the fear of becoming one of those housebound old men whose only company was his cat, Chandler forced himself to pop the question.

And has regretted it ever since the day they got home from their honeymoon.

Their relationship went downhill from there. It became very give-take, with Janice on the give side. She would constantly shower him with affection and urges to make their marriage more equal. When he always resisted, she gave up. She didn't even ask him if he was ready for a child anymore, even though they had been together for years.

Now they were simply two people living under the same roof, and they both knew it. It was only a matter of who would drop the atomic bomb that was a divorce request first.

Sighing, Chandler tilted his head as he studied her, guilt building up inside. This is all my fault. Yes, she's annoying, but I was the one who led her to believe I loved her. Swallowing his pride, he silently went over and gave her a passionate kiss. A kiss that left her speechless while he picked up the garbage bag again and, carefully, walked a wide circle around the dog and out the door.

Parking in front of Pete's building, Monica turned off the ignition. However, she made no move to open the car door. Instead, she laid her head back and closed her eyes.

Do I really need to get this Id?

Yes, I do, Monica told herself, letting out a very deep breath. This wouldn't be the first time seeing him since they signed the divorce papers, but that's not to say a sharp knife wouldn't have a good deal of difficulty cutting through the tension. With her eyes closed, Monica could almost see the huge fight that led to their separation.

They had just gotten back from one of Pete's charity functions. Monica was exhausted. Her shoes were killing her, and it was all she could do to prevent herself from ripping off the dress she wore, undoubtedly worth more than the rent for her old apartment.

Giving Pete a quick kiss on the cheek, Monica headed into the bedroom. 'Well, I'm beat. You coming?"

"Monica, wait." When she turned, he began, "Look, honey, I saw you eyeing some of the other men at the event tonight. Now, before you say anything, know that this is not the only instance this has happened. It bothers me a great deal, but I'll let it go. Just apologize and promise you won't do it again, and we'll be fine."

Her jaw dropping, Monica sputtered, "Wh-what? I wasn't…why would you accuse…"

"Don't bother arguing. I know you've been losing some weight lately and you've been getting some attention from the other men, but that doesn't mean you should return it," Pete stated, his gaze showing that he was still waiting for her apology.

Ready to knock that smug little attitude right out of him, Monica mentally counted to ten. Don't let him get to you, she reminded herself, remember why you love him.

After a minute of struggling for an answer, Monica was startled to realize that she didn't have one. While she had liked Pete when he asked her to marry him, she mostly agreed because of lack of future economic and romantic prospects. Sure, she guessed she'd grown to love him over the years, but there'd always been that tiny voice telling her that this marriage was totally false.

She'd try to deny it. After all, what woman would leave a man who could buy her an entire department store, and wouldn't hesitate to do so if she asked? But eventually she couldn't contain her lack of passion for him. It was only a matter of time before Pete's intuition, the one that enabled him to do so well in business, picked up on it.

She could tell he didn't want to acknowledge it either. Unfortunately, all his pent up frustration came to translate into paranoia. Feeling guilty about her apathy, when he admitted he couldn't stand it when she had male friends, she'd dropped the few she had. Still, the situation got worse. His jealousy and protectiveness grew whenever she was in a room alone with one of her friends' husbands, when she paid too much attention to one in particular…even when she so much as made eye contact with a member of the opposite sex.

Now, now she had a decision to make. She could back down like she always did. Or she could finally stand up for herself. "Pete, I'm…"

"Yes?" Pete replied, wearing a knowing smirk.

That was it. She'd been about to apologize again, but that all-knowing, "you can't live without me/ I'm always right" smirk drove her over the edge. "I'm not going to take this any more."

"Excuse me?" Pete retorted, obviously not expecting to hear that.

Gaining a little more confidence with each passing second, Monica seethed, "I'm not going to take this any more. This insane jealousy…it's not working. I am not your possession. I am an independent woman who can speak to or look at whoever she wants to. And for the record, don't think I don't see you checking other women out too."

"My eyes are always focused on you. It's ridiculous for you to – "

"Is it?" Monica interrupted. "Why should I trust you when you obviously don't trust me?"

"Because I love you," Pete snapped. There was a silence, then he started towards the bedroom. "If you love me, come to bed. If not…this pent house does have several guest rooms."

He gave a dramatic pause. When she stood there, he went into the bedroom, purposely leaving the door open.

After only a second of deliberation, Monica got her purse and dashed out of the pent house.

The memory still brought on waves of pain when she chose to relive it. Taking several deep breaths and letting them out slowly, Monica stepped out of the car. She approached the door, thanking her lucky stars that some guests were heading up and she didn't need to have him buzz her in. He must be hosting Thanksgiving for our…his friends.

She had to admit that only made her more nervous. She'd been secretly hoping that he would be somewhere else for the holiday and one of the staff could let her in.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she entered the pent house with the guests, and went off on her own in search of her Id tag. If fate decided to be nice to her she could get it without Pete ever knowing she'd stop by.

Of course, when was fate ever nice to her?

"Monica? What are you doing here?"

Plastering on a smile, she turned around. Her ex-husband was facing her wearing a confused expression. Several of the guests had stopped what they were doing to watch what was sure to be fodder for gossip.

Ordering herself to stop shaking, Monica calmly replied, "Hi, Pete. I-I just had to stop by to pick up something I left here. I would have waited for a better time, believe me, but I really need it today."

"Oh." Pete sent her a meaningful glance. He obviously knew she was referring to her Id tag, but didn't want all of New York's elite to know she was now a waitress. "Well, feel free to look around for it. And, um, if you're not in a hurry, you're welcome to stay for dinner. Though I'm sure you have your own plans."

"I do, but thank you anyway. I'll just…go."

With that, she turned around and headed in any opposite direction that would lead her away from the scene. She weaved her way through the crowd, desperate to find a bathroom or somewhere she could be alone…"

"Oh my God, Monica? I haven't seen you in months!"

If the voice had belonged to anyone else, she would have kept going. But instead she smiled with sincerity. "I guess we're not really in the same circles anymore. It's great to see you, Rachel."