Chapter 1: Be What She Needs

Chandler adjusted his suit coat over his shoulders. Lifting his eyes, he peered through the tinted window of Grandma Buffay's cab, up at the dark and overcast clouds. It seemed almost cruel to think it, but it couldn't be helped: mostly cloudy really was the perfect day for a funeral.

He mentally kicked himself. Funerals weren't meant to be enjoyable. And yet, when it came to this particular one, he couldn't help but feel a palpable sense of relief. He wrestled to tamp it down underneath the pain he knew he had to muster, for the sake of…

This backseat was cramped, what with he, Joey and Ross sitting three abreast. In the front seat, Phoebe was driving while chatting quietly to Rachel. Everyone was dressed in black. The men spoke not a word to each other.

The taxicab finally pulled up to the church and cemetery. Joey craned his neck, leaning across Ross at the opposite window to get a better look.

"God! It's tacky as hell!"

"I'd call it Nouveau-Riche," Phoebe supplied helpfully. Chandler couldn't tell if she was being sincere or throwing shade at the ostentatious building. Knowing Phoebe, it was probably some nebulous mix between the two. Whatever.

"Let's just call it 'Something that Joel Osteen built,'" he quipped. The others were grateful to leave it at that, as they piled out of the car.

Chandler didn't actually know whether Joel Osteen built this church, but considering all the MacMansions that were scattered around this place, he wouldn't have put it past the bastard. In any case, this house of worship definitely catered to an elite clientele, or the 'nouveau riche,' as Phoebe had described it.

Catered from cradle to grave.

A light drizzle began to fall. Joey seemed to pull an umbrella from almost nowhere and insisted, in a fit of gallantry, that Rache and Pheebs stand with him under it. Ross and Chandler looked at each other and trudged up the walk towards the cemetery. A tent had thankfully been raised to protect the ceremony as it was conducted outside.

When they were nearly at the plot, Ross nudged him. Chandler glanced to his right, back towards the sidewalk. He could see two older people whom he recognized as Mr. and Mrs. Geller, supporting another woman between them.

He willed his feet to keep walking, against all his instincts to instead stop and stare, or even reverse course and run to her. Even when a blubbering mess, Monica Geller – he felt his brain correct him on the proper use of her married name, but it was weak - was still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. As the grieving woman and her parents drew closer, Monica turned out of profile, and Chandler nearly teetered in his shock and anguish on her behalf.

Oh, shit – she… she was pregnant….

From the swell of her belly, his best friend couldn't be that far along; perhaps she and Richard had only just told Jack and Judy the news.

Chandler rounded on Ross. "Did you know?"

Ross nodded glumly. "When I came to visit the other day. They were going to break the news to all of us, but then…. this happened."

Dazed, Chandler nodded again. He straightened as the other Gellers came up, arriving before the open plot in the ground and the casket.

Monica was staring at the casket. In an almost synchronized manner, Jack and Judy moved away from their daughter, one at a time, to hug their son and the man whom they had always seen as an honorary son. At no point was Monica ever left alone.

Jack gave Chandler a pumping handshake. "Thank you for being here, my boy," he rumbled, his tone nakedly sincere. Chandler gave Jack a wan smile. He was even pleasantly surprised by the warm hug Judy gave him now; he had always thought that Monica's mother tolerated him, at best.

Monica finally tore her eyes away from the coffin that contained her husband. Her face lit up, and Chandler could tell it was forced from how the radiance didn't reach her eyes. Even so, when she breathed his name, the sound of it dripped with relief, and to Chandler's ears, it sounded like sweet music.

"…. Chandler…." She sank into his arms like he was a warm bath, and then she was clutching at him, sobbing bitterly into his button-down and getting the pocket square to his suit coat all ruined. Chandler didn't mind in the least. He wordlessly rubbed her back, daring to settle his chin on the top of Monica's head. With a sniffle and a shuddering exhale, she finally seemed to relax a bit. It was an effort for Chandler to step back out of the embrace, but he kept her hands in his. He made a sweep of her figure with his eyes: dressed all in black, with a slight curve to her stomach.

"You…. you look…. beautiful," he murmured, nearly lost for words. Was that the right thing to say to the grieving widow at a funeral? Probably not, but Monica flushed anyway, her smile still sad and broken.

"You're sweet…." she mumbled. She turned to embrace her brother, leaning against him as the group of mourners stepped up to the casket. The priest, rabbi or whoever it was lifted his arms to begin the first prayer.

Chandler fought to keep his attention on the service, but it was impossible to not glance and check on Monica every couple of minutes. She seemed fine using her brother as both a physical and an emotional crutch. Chandler willed himself to not let his gaze linger. Was three seconds too long? Four? At one point when he averted his gaze, he caught Rachel watching him from the opposite end of the grave plot, her expression unreadable.

The officiant delivered the benediction and then Ross stepped forward to assist with the casket as a pallbearer. Spotting Monica sway unsteadily, Chandler lunged forward rather conspicuously as she swooned against him, preventing the widow from keeling over into a dead faint. Bracing against his chest, Monica glanced up and flushed in embarrassment.

"Thanks," she mumbled gratefully.

Chandler nodded dumbly. "Always…."

Everyone watched as the casket carrying Dr. Richard Burke was lowered into the ground. Monica now turned her face into Chandler's chest and wept bitterly. Her arms wrapped around him and nearly squeezed him, and Chandler held her back, even as he wrestled with himself to not read too much into it. She'd be clutching at anyone like this, in her emotional state.

He hoped none of her grief would bring adverse stress upon the baby, bitter as the thought was. Richard might be gone, but she was still having his kid. She was having a kid with him….

The wake was held back at the Gellers' house. Around Monica, Chandler couldn't help but hover. He wanted to make sure she was all right, and he had to be grateful how her anguish was not making her snap at him or shoo him away. In truth, she seemed grateful for the company.

Not trusting his mouth to work properly, Chandler didn't speak sweet nothings of comfort and instead did his best to listen. From what little Monica managed to say, living in a fog as she was, it was clear: she had loved her husband deeply.

Now Chandler just felt worse. He wouldn't dare speak aloud what was actually in his heart, deep down: that he was glad the bastard was dead.

At least the man hadn't been abusive, thank goodness. By all accounts, Richard Burke had treated his wife perfectly well, even doted on her. Chandler supposed he should be happy and even grateful for that. That his best friend had been so loved and provided for.

Monica had her head drooped on his shoulder, Chandler with an arm stolen around her. He rubbed her forearm, watching the passerby guests mingling. Murmuring condolences in low and hushed tones. Lifting his eyes, he spotted Rachel watching them from across the room. When she began to make her way over, Chandler tensed.

"Chandler…. May I speak with you for a moment, please? Alone?"

Chandler nodded like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Monica looked stricken enough that she didn't want him to be gone too long; again, Chandler tried not to read too much into this. Rachel was now flagging Joey down.

"I'll watch over her, bud," Joey promised, shifting into Chandler's spot in some kind of changing of the guard.

Chandler followed Rachel warily out of the Gellers' house. She didn't stop at the front porch. They were nearly at the end of the paved driveway before she was rounding on him angrily.

"You need to control yourself! And stop being so obvious!"

"Huh?" Chandler blinked.

Rachel's pursed lips twisted in frustration and she pointed a firm finger of admonishment in his face. "Nobody likes a man who acts like a vulture, sweeping in the second there's an opening… Don't!" she snapped as Chandler started to open his mouth to ask what the hell she was talking about. "You know damn well what I mean!" She glanced about, lowering her voice sotte voce. "You need to stop displaying for all to see that you're in love with her!"

"You don't think I know that?!" Chandler snapped, even as he turned pink.

Rachel softened, but it was slight. "I know you know," she sighed. "I'm just warning you now: don't make a play now that you see that there's a chance!"

"… I never thought I would ever have a chance!" Chandler spluttered. "I don't."

"And you won't if you can't see clearly what Monica needs. She needs her husband, who unfortunately she can't have. She doesn't need a lover. She needs a friend. Particularly her best friend." She laid an understanding hand on Chandler's shoulder. "I know how much you care for her, Chandler…. but if you really care for her, you need to be what she needs right now. Not what you want to be." She smiled tenderly. "You've waited and suffered in silence for so long. Right now, you need to be strong for her. You will have to wait a little longer."

Chandler couldn't really decipher what he was hearing. Was Rachel saying that, maybe not now, but someday, she would want Chandler to pursue the Widow Burke? Was this Rachel's roundabout way of giving some sort of blessing, in the form of a warning-off threat?

Studying his face, Rachel nodded once, satisfied by whatever she saw there. Rearing up, she kissed Chandler on the cheek. "I know it's hard, honey. Affairs of the heart usually are. I know you'll do what's right, for Monica's sake. You love her enough that you will."

And she flounced away, back up towards the house, leaving Chandler to ponder what she had said.