Monica was crying by the time she reached the stairs. She was taking deep, shuddery breaths and barely holding in outright sobs by the time she hit the lobby. She pushed open the door with her shoulder, her head ducked down, collar pulled up around her chin, just as Joey stepped up to the building with Rachel and Phoebe.
"Monica? What's wrong?" Rachel asked, stopping Monica in the doorway and grabbing her by an elbow. "What's going on?"
"I told him everything," Monica said, her voice choked. "Now he hates me. I had to leave. He wanted me to leave. Oh my God, he'll never forgive me."
"Mon, calm down," Joey said, shepherding the women into the lobby and out of the cold. "What did you tell him? And who's him? Chandler?"
"I told him about Ted," Monica said, wiping at the tears on her face.
"That guy you have a crush on? You told Chandler about him?" Joey asked, his eyes wide in horror. "What? Why? Why would you tell him about that guy? Is this about that honesty crap you guys talk about? What's up with that? Why can't you guys just lie like normal people?"
"Because we almost kissed last night," Monica said flatly.
Rachel and Phoebe stared at her in shock, their eyes wide and mouths open.
"But you kiss Chandler all the time," Joey said, clearly confused.
"Not Chandler," Monica said. "I almost kissed Ted last night."
"Nice," Joey drawled, and then stopped. "No. No, no, no. Not nice. What about Chandler? How could you do that to him?"
"I don't know," Monica said, and she started crying again. Rachel and Phoebe wrapped their arms around her, Rachel stroking her hair.
"Come on, Monica, Chandler will get over this," Phoebe said. "He may have his faults. He may have a totally inappropriate sense of humor. He may be a big geek. He may have no sense of style at all. Maybe his job is boring. May-" She stopped when she saw three glares shooting her way. "OK, OK, but the thing is, he loves you. Like a lot. And he won't give you up."
Monica nodded, fresh tears brightening her eyes.
"Mon, hon, let's just go upstairs, talk this over, give Chandler some time to himself. And then you guys will work all this out. OK?" Rachel said. "We'll just hang out at Joey's for a little while."
Monica nodded again and let them lead her back upstairs. When they reached the hallway between the two apartments, she stopped and looked longingly at her door. Then she turned to Joey.
"Will you go in there and talk to him, Joey?" she asked. "You don't have to persuade him to forgive me. Just make sure he's OK. He shouldn't be alone. He's still sick, and he was so quiet when I left. I don't want him to be alone."
"Yeah, of course," Joey said, opening the door to his apartment so the women could go inside. Before he closed the door, he gave Monica a stern stare.
"You know, I never expected something like this from you, Monica," Joey said, and Monica stopped and turned to look back at him. "I mean, Rachel or Phoebe, maybe. But you, I never thought you'd hurt him like that."
"Hey," Rachel and Phoebe said at the same time, pushing themselves in front of Monica. But Monica interrupted them before they could finish their thoughts.
"No, he's right," she said. "I didn't think I was capable of something like this either. I'm a terrible person."
"Well, yeah, he's right about that," Rachel said. "But what do you mean, you'd expect this from me or Phoebe? I'd never-"
"Actually, no, he's right," Phoebe interrupted. "We'd totally cheat on our boyfriends."
"I would not!" Rachel said indignantly. Phoebe gave Joey a knowing look then faced Rachel.
"Right, of course not," she said, and wrapped an arm around Monica again to guide her the rest of the way into the apartment.
After they had closed the door, Joey walked over to Chandler and Monica's apartment and knocked softly. He let himself in before Chandler could answer. Chandler looked up and mumbled a quick "hey."
"Hey," Joey called back. He crossed the room and sat at the end of the couch, near Chandler.
Chandler was sitting stony-faced in his recliner, his feet planted on the floor, his hands still balled into fists in his lap. A blanket that had been covering his legs now was in a heap at his feat. The chair was upright, but he was leaning back into it, the back of his head resting against the top section, his eyes fixed on some point on the coffee table. His cheeks were still flushed pink from the fever.
"So, you enjoying your day off?" Joey asked, his eyebrows arched and a hopeful look on his face. Chandler just scowled at him. "Look, we ran into Monica in the hall," Joey said. "She was real upset. She told us everything. I'm sorry, man."
Chandler glanced at his friend, opened his mouth as though to speak, and then closed it and looked away. He didn't know what to say.
"She feels terrible," Joey continued. "She was all crying and upset. She feels really bad about what happened." When Chandler still didn't say anything, Joey finally asked, "What are you gonna do?"
"I don't know," Chandler said, his voice soft and hoarse. He cleared his throat and said again, "I don't know."
Chandler looked around the room then, as if hoping the objects he saw might give him some answers, like the silver candlesticks might tell him to just forgive her or the throw pillow on the couch might tell him to just throw something at her. But then he closed his eyes, tilting his head up toward the ceiling.
"I know she didn't cheat on me," he said. "I know I should be glad at least for that. But this changes everything."
He stopped and looked at Joey and leaned forward in his chair. His eyes were bright and watery, with heavy dark shadows under them. The effect made them look very blue.
"It's like, it's like before we were this fantastic, amazing, incredible couple," he said. "We were in love and it was so easy. I never doubted my feelings for her, and I never, I never doubted her feelings for me. You know those horrible things couples do to each other? Cheating and lying and hurting? We didn't have any of that. We were better than all that. And now we're not. Now we're, we're just one of those couples, those couples that do shitty things to each other. Those couples that doubt each other. And I hate that."
Joey looked honestly shocked at Chandler's words.
"God, Chandler, that's so not true," he said. "You're right, you guys are totally great together. But you're also real people, and real people screw up. And sometimes they screw up big time. But look at how much she loves you. She couldn't stop crying, Chandler. I've never seen her like that before. And she didn't even kiss the guy. She didn't do anything."
"I know," Chandler said sharply.
"Then what are you gonna do?"
He sighed and closed his eyes again. "I don't know."
Joey stayed for another 30 minutes before Chandler asked him to leave, insisting that he would be OK and that he really needed some time to himself. Back at his apartment, Joey saw that Monica had curled up on his yellow couch and was staring into space. Rachel and Phoebe sat at the kitchen counter. Monica, they said, wouldn't talk to them.
Monica returned to her apartment about two hours after she had left. It was after 5, dusk outside, and with no lights on in the apartment, the kitchen and living room looked dusty and colorless. She turned on the light in the kitchen and glanced at the recliner. Chandler had fallen asleep in the chair, his head turned toward the door.
She set her keys on the table, careful to not make any noise, and walked around the couch to him, studying his face. He looked tired and sick and even in his sleep he was frowning. She saw the blanket bunched up at his feet, and picked it up to cover him again. Once she had draped it lightly over his shoulders, she rested the back of her hand over his forehead. It was too warm again. She realized he hadn't taken any aspirin for the fever since his shower that morning. She was toying with the idea of waking him, making him take the medicine, when he opened his.
In the dim room, Chandler squinted at Monica, blinking his red-rimmed eyes several times. He looked confused.
"You should take some more aspirin," she said. He nodded, his eyes never leaving her face. She went to the bathroom to gather two aspirin for him, and then returned to his side, handing him the pills and the half-empty glass of water left from his lunch. He swallowed the pills, coughing after the first sip, and then handed the glass back to her.
"I'm so sorry," she started.
"It's OK," he said.
"No, it's not OK. It's not OK at all."
Chandler sighed, but kept his eyes on her. "You're right," he said. "It's not OK. But it will be."
"Will it?" she asked. She sat down on the couch and rubbed her hands, her hair hanging in her face.
"You didn't kiss him," he said.
"No," she said, shaking her head, uncombed hair swaying in front of her face. "But what happened, what I did, it's horrible. If the situation had been reversed? If you'd done this to me? God, I don't know what I'd do. I feel awful. I hate what I did."
"I know," he said. He leaned forward and took her hands in his own. "Tell me what happened."
So Monica told him everything, from the first day she saw Ted, when he told the dinner crew to behave, to their long nights chatting and laughing and how Rachel and Phoebe told her it was a crush. She told him about the previous night, and all the things Ted had said to her: that she'd been flirting, that he thought she'd liked him, that she'd never mentioned Chandler before. She told him how he tried to kiss her.
She went on for 10 minutes, staring at her hands the whole time she was talking, refusing to look up at him. When she stopped, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes.
"This is all my fault," Chandler said, and her head popped up. He could see wet streaks running down her cheeks and her eyes were still watery. "I knew you were a dangerous flirt. And I let you do it. Hell, I told you to do it."
And, to Monica's amazement, Chandler smiled at her.
"You're just too hot," he said. "That's the problem with having a hot girlfriend. What would you say to putting on a few of those high school pounds? Or shaving your head? How do you feel about facial tattoos?"
He was joking. Monica was speechless. When she didn't say anything, didn't even smile at him, just gaped at him, Chandler stopped smiling and started speaking in a soft, even voice.
"Look, I'm not saying I'm OK with this," he said, studying their clasped hands. "It hurts, what you did, what you just told me. And we're going to have to talk this over, figure out what this means, where it came from. But I know you love me-"
"Yes," Monica said, nodding. Chandler smiled again.
"And I know I love you," he continued. "And I know we can deal with this."
Monica nodded again. Chandler leaned forward and kissed her, breaking contact after only a second to cough. Monica let go of his hands and rubbed his back, and when he had recovered, he wrapped her into a hug.
"So what are you going to say to this waiter guy when you see him tomorrow?" Chandler asked after they had broken their embrace. He leaned back in his chair and pretended to inspect his fingernails.
"I won't be seeing him tomorrow," Monica said. "In fact, I won't be seeing much of him at all. I told them I can't work nights anymore."
"What?" Chandler said, dropping his hands and lifting his eyes.
"When I called in sick this morning, I told them the dinner menu is done," she said. "I told them I had to take the rest of the week off, and I'd come in Monday to go over the menu with the regular night chef. I'll still have to work nights from time to time like I always did, but starting next week, I'm back on the lunch shift."
"Thank God," Chandler said, closing his eyes in relief. "I mean, it's not that I don't trust you with this guy, but, well, I don't. I mean, you did almost kiss him."
"Almost," Monica said.
"Almost," Chandler repeated. "Anyway, that's not the point. I've missed you. And I'm damn tired of paying for Joey's dinner every night."
Chandler was sleepy after their talk, and when Monica saw him blinking rapidly and yawning, she suggested he try to nap again. He didn't argue, and was asleep within a few minutes. As she was watching him sleep, his chest lifting the blanket with each even breath he took, she was hit with a sudden pang of hunger and realized she hadn't eaten all day. And then it occurred to her just what a long day it had been.
She and Chandler didn't return to their conversation for the rest of the night. Chandler was still wiped out from the fever and the general weariness from being sick, so he gave up on the recliner at about 8 and returned to bed. He didn't fully wake up again until early the next morning, when he found Monica clinging to him in her sleep. He was still angry, he decided, but he nonetheless pulled her closer to him and went back to sleep
Later that morning, Ross, Rachel and Phoebe gathered at Joey's apartment, talking in hushed, somber tones about what they'd seen the day before, Rachel and Phoebe filling Ross in on the fight. The three of them had persuaded Joey to go across the hall and find out what was going on and now, 15 minutes later, were waiting for his return with fresh gossip.
"I told you these crushes were a bad idea," Ross said. "If you're in a committed relationship, why do you need to look around?"
"What, like you never notice good looking women when you've got a girlfriend?" Phoebe asked. She was perched on a stool in front of the counter, buttering a slice of toast.
"Nope," Ross said.
"Oh, please," Rachel said, filing her nails as she sat in Joey's recliner. "I still say it's fine as long as you don't act on it. Everyone looks."
"OK, fine, you can look, for like a second, but you shouldn't dwell on it, not to the point where it jeopardizes your current relationship," Ross said. "And, and a crush? That's always a bad idea. That's taking it too far."
"You had a crush on me while you were dating Julie," Rachel said. "In fact, you even cheated on her."
"That's exactly my point," Ross said. "When you're in a committed relationship, you shouldn't be looking. I mean, what if you find someone better?"
"Then you dump his ass and go with the new guy," Phoebe said.
"But if you're constantly looking at the better guy, um, girl, whatever, then you're not even in a committed relationship," Ross said. "Eventually, you've got to just be happy with the person you're with."
"Ross, if you'd done that with Julie, you and I never would've gotten together," Rachel said softly.
Ross stopped and locked eyes with Rachel. He nodded shortly. Then he turned away and opened Joey's refrigerator to search for some juice. After a few minutes of silence, he said, "So, Monica really was crying in the lobby?"
"Sobbing is more like it," Phoebe said, agreeing to the change of subject. "I haven't seen a mascara disaster that bad since the day I met Rachel in her wedding dress."
"My mascara wasn't messed up then," Rachel said. "You think I didn't check when I locked myself in that bathroom?"
"I wasn't talking about you. So self-centered," Phoebe said. "No, yeah, my friend Rebecca. Her dad died that day."
"Oh, that's sad," Rachel said.
"What? Yeah, I guess," Phoebe said. "But that's not why she was crying. That was the day she forgot how to whistle. She was never the same after that."
Ross, exchanging a bemused look with Rachel, started to speak up when the door opened and Joey walked in, carrying a loaded plate and mumbling a muffled "hey" around a mouthful of French toast. Everyone waited a minute for Joey to say something more, but he just went back to eating and didn't look up from the plate.
"So, Joe, what's going on?" Ross finally asked.
"Monica makes incredible French toast," Joey said after swallowing a bite. "Did you know that? Crunchy on the outside, light and chewy on the inside. She even puts a touch of nut-"
"What's going on with her and Chandler?" Ross blurted out.
"Oh, right," Joey said, setting down his fork but hanging onto the plate. "They're OK, I guess. Chandler was asleep, but Monica said they talked last night and she thinks they'll work things out."
"Man, I hope so," Ross said, and then nodded a head toward Joey's plate. "That smells good. Why'd she make you French toast anyway?"
"Yeah, no offense, Joey, but that seems a little extravagant for you on a Friday morning," Rachel said.
"Monica was cleaning out the refrigerator when I got there, so she had a bunch of food she wanted to get rid of and offered to make me-"
"Wait," Ross interrupted. "Monica was cleaning out the refrigerator?"
"Yeah, so she had eggs and milk and-"
"What do you mean, cleaning out the refrigerator?" Rachel asked, getting up from her chair.
"What?" Joey asked.
"Describe the scene. Describe it exactly," Phoebe ordered, throwing a nervous glance at Ross and Rachel, who were now standing at her side.
"Well," Joey started, his brow creased in confusion. "She had all of the food on the kitchen table, and all of the drawers lined up on towels on the floor, and she was scrubbing the inside of the door."
"Was the refrigerator unplugged?" Rachel asked.
"Did she move it away from the wall so she could reach behind?" Ross asked.
"Was she wearing her kneepads?" Phoebe asked.
Joey looked panicked for a moment, his eyes darting between the three of them as he tried to keep up with their questions.
"Yes. Yes, yes, yes!" he finally yelled. "Why? Why does it matter?"
"Oh, no," Phoebe said, lowering her eyes as a depressed frown crossed her face.
"Yeah, it must be bad," Rachel said.
"What's bad?" Joey asked, still trying to catch their eyes.
"Maybe one of us should go be with her?" Ross asked, looking at the two women, who shook their heads.
"No, she has to do this on her own," Phoebe said, and Rachel nodded at her.
"Why? Why does she have to do it on her own?" Ross asked.
"Do what on her own?" Joey asked.
"She just does," Rachel said. "She has to work things out with Chandler, and then she'll come to us when she needs us."
"Look, I'm sure they'll be fine," Phoebe said, nodding sharply. "They just need to talk about it. Clear the air. But first, she'll clear the refrigerator."
"Exactly," Rachel said.
"If you guys say so," Ross said, sounding decidedly unsure.
They all finally looked back to Joey. He had given up on them and was munching happily at his French toast.
Chandler and Monica did in fact spend much of Friday talking things over.
Monica knew that she didn't like Ted, per se, but had simply liked the attention she got from him. She had liked knowing that she could still reel in the men, even if she hadn't been consciously trying to catch this one. And, when she thought about it, she had liked the flirting.
She tried to explain all of this to Chandler. She described to him again the circumstances that led to the near-kiss, the late nights she spent with Ted and how she enjoyed his company. It wasn't that she preferred Ted's company over Chandler's, she said. It was just something new and different a feeling she hadn't experienced since the two of them had hooked up in London. Except in this case, she never wanted the romance. She hadn't even wanted a kiss.
Chandler figured he had two choices. He could doubt her intentions with Ted and question whether she truly loved him. He could dwell on the fact that she had misled him, that she had practically lied to him about Ted by never mentioning him. He could be angry and hurt and mistrustful.
Or he could take her word for it. He could push this information behind him and trust her again.
The first option would be easier, he knew. After all, he wasn't used to the unconditional love he got from Monica, and he would have no trouble at all punching holes in that, punishing himself with worries that she could leave him at any time, that none of her feelings were real, or at least very strong.
But he chose the second option. He would forgive her and put all of this mess behind him. For the next few weeks, he knew he would have to keep nudging those dark thoughts out of his mind, fighting with the doubts and the questions. But when she looked at him, and he swore he could see her eyes soften with a smile that was just for him, he thought he would be OK. That they would be OK.
"What are you thinking about?" Monica asked Friday night, as they sat at the kitchen table sipping at more soup. Chandler had watched her fidgeting with her spoon for the past five minutes while they ate in silence. He'd seen this question coming, but he took a few seconds to answer.
"How everything changes," he said, staring into his bowl of soup. He saw Monica nod, and thought she looked scared.
"Look, I'm not going to say I'm cool with what happened between you and that waiter guy," he continued. "I hate that bastard. I know it wasn't his fault, but I hate him. I mean, c'mon, he hit on you at work. What kind of an asshole does that?"
Monica gave him a small laugh. Like Chandler should talk.
"Anyway," he continued, "what happened, it's just made me think about where things stand with us."
"Where do things stand?" Monica asked. She raised her eyes to meet his.
"I'll be honest. This really shook me up," Chandler said. "I thought things were like, well, that they were perfect between us. I mean, I know that's not possible, but it's just been so easy for us, you know? And now, well, now they're not perfect, not at all. Now I feel pretty screwed up. And I have doubts and fears and I'm pretty mad. And I hate feeling that way. But you know what?"
"What?" Monica asked.
"I love you," he said, and gave her a half smile.
"I love you too."
By Saturday, Chandler was feeling well enough that they invited everyone over for dinner. It was uncomfortable for about the first two seconds after their friends arrived. And then Ross and Joey broke into an argument over cloning.
"Hey, Ross, you know about cloning, right? How far along are they with that now?" Joey asked.
"I don't know, I think they've done some farm animals and stuff," Ross said. "Why do you want to know?"
"Can they just do my head?" Joey asked, sitting down in Chandler's recliner.
"Your head?" Ross sputtered. "Why would you just want your head?"
"You know, I'm an actor, and I depend a lot on my looks. So what if like I get in an accident or something, and I lose an eye, or my nose is cut off or something."
"Why don't you just get parts of your head cloned?" Phoebe asked, sitting down on the couch with two beers. She handed one to Joey. "I mean, if they can clone your head, they can probably just clone your nose or your eyes."
"Are you guys kidding?" Ross said. "No, of course you aren't kidding. Joey, they can't just clone your head. It wouldn't work."
"Why not?" Joey asked.
"Well, it's like, they can't, you see, the brain won't, they just can't. Trust me."
"I don't know if you'd want a clone anyway, Joey," Rachel said, sitting down on the floor opposite of Phoebe. "I mean, look at Phoebs. She's got a twin, which is like a clone, and she hates it."
"That's true," Phoebe said.
"Twins are nothing like clones," Ross yelled, gripping the back of the couch now. "Twins are like, like two different people. Clones are the same people. The same person. They're like Xerox copies."
Phoebe shook her head and rolled her eyes at Joey.
"Just get the nose," she said. "And a couple eyes. But if you lose an ear, you might want to consider a new one altogether. Yours are a little too big."
"Really? Too big?" Joey asked, putting his hands over his ears. "Man, that reminds me. Better think about getting some other parts cloned. It's not just the face I should be protecting, know what I mean?"
In the kitchen, Chandler smiled at Monica as they listened to the conversation coming from the living room.
"Well, good to know they're not worried about us," he said, squeezing Monica's waist as he grabbed a bottle of wine from behind her on the counter.
"Yeah, it's like nothing's changed at all," she said, and immediately regretted her words. They both frowned a little. Of course things had changed. She knew that. Monica went back to studiously chopping tomatoes for a salad.
Chandler watched her for a moment, a frown still lining his forehead. And then, just as he'd promised himself, he pushed his dark thoughts aside and leaned over to swipe a piece of hair away from her face and kiss the corner of her mouth. The stubble from his face he still hadn't shaved tickled her lips and cheek and she smiled.
"Except it has changed," he whispered, and her smile disappeared. "I mean, check out this beard I'm working on. Talk about change, babe. Could I look any different?"
Monica laughed. She turned her face toward him, the smile back on it, and kissed him firmly on the mouth. He reached a hand up to the back of her head, and then set the wine bottle down so he could wrap his other arm around her waist and pull her close to him.
Neither of them noticed that their friends had stopped talking. Instead, they were all beaming at the couple. And then, turning to face each other, they went right back to fighting.
So, nothing had changed after all.
The end.
Final note: Thanks to jjaks for much help with the last chapter.
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