Chapter 2: Five of One

The following evening was dark and overcast, much of the sun blotted out by the clouds. Unlocking the door to Apartment 20, Chandler dragged himself into the home he had made and shared with his wife of just two years, and his lover for five. His best friend for…. for…. he wracked his brain for the memory of when he and Monica first met and tried to bask in it, but the gooey warmth of Thanksgiving 1987 would not come. Instead, he flinched back from that singular moment with a hiss of mourning and outrage.

Sixteen years. Sixteen years he had known that beautiful, amazing woman! The woman who would become his bride and later bear his babies – the babies she had yearned for so badly - at the cost of her own life. Sixteen years that had been the happiest of his life, the past five in particular unfolding like some sort of dream, and Chandler had been astounded to find that there was no need to wake up.

Chandler only had to so much as look at the kitchenette, where Monica had been in her element and so many beautiful memories had been made, for him to turn into a puddle. He collapsed into a chair, his posterior nearly missing and sliding off the seat so that he was in danger of collapsing to the floor. Behind him, the girls, each holding a car seat, dashed towards the former guest room (it had each been Rachel's, and before that, Phoebe's, room in years past) that the Bings had joyously turned into a nursery. Aunties Rachel and Phoebe would be the ones to put the babies to bed. Sobbing uncontrollably, Chandler began to bang his head on the chestnut wood of the kitchen table, and was only stopped by Ross grabbing him.

"You're going to knock yourself out!" his brother-in-law admonished, tears lacing his voice.

Chandler wanted nothing more. Wait, actually he did – he wanted to see how many bangs it would take to achieve death by head-butting. The world was merciless and cruel, dark without his Monica's light. What had once been a fairytale land, give or take a few setbacks (read: fertility struggles) had since become a grotesque funhouse of mirrors, reality distorted into something nightmarish. If a world with Monica in it had been heaven, then a world without her was hell. Pure, unadulterated hell.

For the past just over 12 hours, Joey had taken on the countenance of a catatonic zombie, sleepwalking his way through this world turned upside down. He groped for his usual chair from where he had spent endless mornings eating breakfast, specially prepared by Mon, and placed his head in his arms. A muffled wail rose up from him, the sound similar to the one Chandler had once made during he and his friends' dramatic retelling of when Monica had been stung by a jellyfish on Montauk.

Rachel and Phoebe at last emerged from the nursery, weeping. Ross appeared lost, his daughter asleep in a backpack-like sling across his shoulders.

Everyone took their usual seats, frozen for a few moments as if expecting Monica to serve them. The reminder that she was not, and never would again, finally prompted Rachel to rise, sniffling, and turn towards the fridge. She wasn't the cook that Monica had been – no one was – but that didn't mean the fashion executive wouldn't try. Her best attempt was barely edible, though no one made mention of it. It probably tasted like ash because that's what everyone felt: ashen. Listless. Unmoored.

"What…. what do we do now?" Phoebe sniffled.

Chandler fixated on a scarring in the table's hardwood, imagining how and by whom the scarring had come to be. He hoped it was Monica, even as he was left anguished by seeing reminders of his wife everywhere in the apartment, everywhere he looked. "You guys don't have to stay, you know," he spoke dully.

"Tough. We're staying," Phoebe ground out, and Chandler lifted his head to find the masseuse's gaze burning into him, a mixture of anger and terror seated in her orbs.

"Pheebs….."

"I've already lost one person I loved to suicide, Chandler Bing!" Phoebe drew forth in a deadly whisper. "I'll be damned if I lose another!" Her vehemence oddly moved him, if also perturbed him in a way that was extreme, even for someone as quirky as Phoebe. She knew him too well – they all did.

Joey was running both his hands down his face; Chandler saw how his old roommate's nose was running with snot. "I feel like I lost a sister…"

"Speak for yourself," Ross grunted. "I did just lose my sister!" The paleontologist lifted his head, glowering at Joey with resentment. "And you know what, Tribbiani, if what you felt for Mon was sisterly, then how come you slept with her?"

At this, Joey's face contorted in outrage. "Ross, haven't you figured it out by now?! : I DIDN'T SLEEP WITH MONICA!"

Silence in the kitchen, the stillness only broken by Joey taking huge gulps of air.

"I. Lied! All that stuff about the underwear in Mon's apartment? The video camera? The naked photo? None of it was true! Monica took that photo of herself to give to Chandler and he had to hide it when you walked in! The video camera was something she and he set up for a date in my apartment! Hell, the underwear wasn't even mine – it was Chandler's!" Joey took a deep breath. "I knew about them before any of you, and I hid and lied to protect them! Even if meant you all thought the worst of me. Even if it meant that Monica went along with it just so she and Chandler could enjoy being together in secret a little longer!" Drooping his head onto the table, Joey started to cry. "I tried to protect her, and instead I dragged her name through the mud along with me…. I never even got to say I was SORRY!"

A bewildered Ross had by now softened his expression at Joey's mea culpa, placing a tentative hand on his shoulder. "There, there, buddy…. I'm sure Monica forgave you for that. Chandler, too. She asked you to marry them, didn't she?"

Joey sniffled and whimpered out something unintelligible. Phoebe took out a handkerchief from her purse and dabbed at her eyes. Next to her, Rachel was quiet, chewing on her bottom lip.

When at last she spoke, her voice was authoritative: "We need to work out who's going to be here when."

Chandler bristled in offense at this. "What, so now I'm on suicide watch now?"

Rachel studied him hard. "I don't blame you for being despondent, Chandler – all day, I've been trying to imagine what it would feel to lose Ross, and it's nearly given me a panic attack! And Ross and I aren't even married yet!" With a shaking finger, she pointed at the door to the nursery. "But there are two innocent little babies in there without their mother, and who are going to need their father." Rising, she circled the table and knelt before her quasi-brother-in-law. "Listen to me: you can do this, Chandler! Monica believed in you, and so do we! But to help you start putting feet in front of the other, we'll need to help you stand!"

Chandler let out a moan and raked his fingers through his hair. "I can't!"

"Yes, you can!" Rachel snapped. "Look at me!" Chandler did, but only reluctantly. "You can do this. You can – but that doesn't mean you will do it alone. We don't expect you to." She gestured around at them all, holding court. "We're here, we're together, and isn't that a beautiful thing?"

Chandler shook his head. "Without my Monica, nothing is beautiful."

Rachel smiled at him sadly, tears streaking down her face. "No. You're right. But that doesn't mean we shouldn't try to find whatever beauty we can, to honor her. She would want you to live." She glanced around at the group, shaken a little to find them all earnestly listening to her. "She would want us all to live." Joey nodded glumly.

Ross bobbed his head too. "Lead us, then, Rache." She smiled at her lover softly.

"This isn't your responsibility. It's not your responsibility to be here for me, or the babies," Chandler tried to argue.

"Well, if that isn't the biggest load of crap!" Phoebe barked out, Rachel nodding fervently at her side.

"When Emma was born, my attending nurse told me that Ross and I should be prepared to do this on our own." Rachel studied her partner. "Was she right in that?"

Ross shook his head. "You've all been there for us, with Emma. None of you walked away." He laid a hand on Chandler's shoulder. "None of us will walk away from you, Jack or Erica."

The door to the apartment suddenly opened, and five pairs of eyes snapped to it, half-expecting to see Monica walk in with her bright and bubbly smile. It was her parents instead, Judy leaning against her husband and Jack walking unsteadily.

Chandler rounded the bookcase to help his father-in-law and mother-in-law.

"Have a seat, guys…."

"Where…. where are our grandchildren?" Jack inquired; his voice sounded hoarse from either crying, lack of use, or both. Ross sidled up next to his dad and turned slightly to show her Emma.

Rachel swallowed hard. "The babies are in the nursery, asleep," she whispered.

Jack nodded to her gratefully. "Good girl…." Then he startled Chandler by laying a hand on his shoulder. "Chandler…. You made my little Harmonica…. So, so happy. No matter what decisions you make in your life, Judy and I will support you. You are family." The patriarch eyed his daughter's husband hard. "Do you hear me? You are family. You are our son, as much as Ross." He smiled, sad and aged, holding out his arms. "Come here, my boy."

Chandler was stunned, and most of all, deeply touched and moved. Never had his own father treated him with such unconditional love, and they were blood. He walked into Jack's arms.

"Even if you one day find someone else…."

Chandler cut him off. "Never." He held onto Jack tighter, crying into his father-in-law's sweater. "I will never love again. To do so would be to dishonor your daughter."

"Poppycock!" Jack tried to scoff.

"I mean it! There will never be another one like her, and certainly not for me." Chandler's lip trembled. "MONICA! I WANT MONICA!" he howled abruptly.

He felt Judy embrace him, crying herself and whispering assurances to him. Chandler felt Ross and the others gathering around for a group hug and he held onto Monica's dad tighter, grateful.

For in this moment (the irony!), he knew once and for all:

Jack and Judy had finally accepted him.