A/N A year ago today I published my first chapter of my first fic, which was also the first piece of fiction I had written since childhood. I never thought that writing would become one of my favorite pastimes, and I certainly never thought anybody would really bother to read anything I wrote, so massive thanks to all who have!

Anyway this is quite a long chapter, and a little bit angsty in places. Thanks again for sticking with it!

As his bewildered mind struggled to make sense of what was happening, Chandler was struck dumb; unable to do anything at all, except stare back vacantly at his frantic-eyed friend.

The gaping and pointing made it pretty obvious what Joey had figured out, but Chandler was desperately racking his brains, completely unable to fathom what had triggered this moment of realization.

The Paris connection seemed like far too tenuous a link to have caused Joey to take such a sure mental leap.

It was only when Joey made a sound that seemed very much like a precursor to public revelation that Chandler shook off his paralysis and leapt into frenzied action, grabbing him by the shoulder and shoving him desperately towards the exit, ignoring the glances of astonishment being exchanged between Ross, Phoebe and Rachel.

The two of them were barely through the door before Joey's loud disbelief began to pour from his lips.

"Oh my God! I can't believe this! You and Monica? What the hell are you doing?"

The noise that Chandler heard himself make might have been a "shhhh!", or it may have been more of a "tsssk!".

Hush or denial, he wasn't quite sure.

But there was a sense of certainty in Joey's eyes that told Chandler there was little point in denying this.

His skin prickled and flushed, radiating a heat that the frosty air could not touch, as he continued to bundle the stocky frame of his roommate further and further from the vicinity of Central Perk, desperate to keep him well away from the eyes and ears of their befuddled friends.

This was it.

It had to be it.

There was no coming back from this, surely? Joey had him bang to rights.

Chandler's chin dropped to his chest, just about ready to crumble and confess, but as he edged his way towards the cusp of truth something stopped him.

Monica.

The stakes were just too high for her. Chandler only had a bunch of shocked and disapproving friends to worry about; she had a scorned husband.

He decided right then and there that could not give up their secret without a fight, so he gritted his teeth and took one final roll of the dice.

"What the hell are you talking about, Joey? What's going on?"

Chandler had never seen Joey look so utterly furious.

"Don't even think about lying to me, man! I know you bought Monica that necklace! I saw it with all of your stuff yesterday!"

Chandler gave a slow nod of comprehension.

The necklace.

"Do you make a habit of going through my stuff?" he eventually fired back with a pointless mumble, every cog in his brain crunching and whirring, scrambling for an innocent narrative that might sound in any way convincing.

Joey shook his head angrily "Stop changing the subject! It fell out of your bag and I assumed you'd bought it for Stacey. Guess I just had the wrong affair, huh?"

"Look, this is not what you think it is, OK?" Chandler dismissed disparagingly.

"No? Then are you gonna explain to me what Monica is wearing around her neck? Don't even try to tell me it's a different necklace, because -"

"It's the same necklace." Chandler interrupted coolly. "But I didn't buy it for her".

"What?" Joey screwed up his face in annoyed bafflement.

"The necklace you saw at our place was supposed to be my Secret Santa gift for Rachel".

Joey gave a loud disbelieving scoff.

"You bought Rachel a fancy designer necklace for Secret Santa", he repeated Chandler's lame excuse back to him, his voice slow and scathing, really hammering home how completely ridiculous this sounded, "A little over the top for a friend isn't it? Are you sleeping with her too? "

"I'm not sleeping with anybody!" Chandler rolled his eyes, shrugging away his lie and pushing down his guilt, "It wasn't even that expensive! It came in right under budget. I just thought Rachel would like it, that's all."

"I just saw Monica wearing it!" Joey fumed, gesticulating impatiently towards the coffeehouse.

"I know! So did I! Earlier this week, I saw Monica wearing the exact same necklace I had bought for Rachel! And I figured that they wouldn't want to match, so this morning I took it back to the store and bought the gloves for her instead!"

If anybody else had stared silently at Chandler for such a very long time, with such intense scrutiny, it would probably have felt menacing.

"That's it? That's the story you're sticking with?"

There was too much disappointment in Joey's voice for his question to sound as incredulous as he wanted it to.

Chandler felt terrible, but his need to protect Monica trumped his desire to be honest with Joey. Guilt infested every cell of his body, his deceitful core felt putrid and shriveled, but his eyes returned only steel.

"No. That's the truth" he replied cockily.

"You're honestly telling me, there's nothing going on between you and Monica". Joey confirmed, making no attempt to veil his doubt.

Chandler's gaze was unflinching, but there was a slight quaver to his voice that he hoped would pass unnoticed.

"That is correct".

Joey shook his head with such sad disbelief that Chandler had to look away, but when he turned back the Italian was suddenly misty eyed.

His dark brows had knit together thoughtfully as another realization seemed to be taking hold. His expression of laconic skepticism quickly morphed into one of utter shock, and he let out a loud gasp, completely aghast.

"Oh my God! You and Monica made a porno?"

Chandler moistened his lips awkwardly and he scratched at an imaginary itch at the side of his head. He had been wondering how long it would take for Joey to join those particular dots.

"No! Of course not!" Chandler refuted with far more indignation than was decent for a man in his position, "Can you really imagine Monica and I doing that?"

Joey's eyes glazed over as he gave Chandler's question some serious thought, his gaze drifting off into the middle distance.

"Alright, stop imagining it!" Chandler demanded, disturbed by the meticulous consideration Joey was giving to this mental image.

"You can show me the tape!" Joey proposed triumphantly "That'll settle this once and for all!"

"Yeah, nice try!" Chandler rolled his eyes.

Joey shrugged. Worth a shot.

Whilst this exchange had done nothing to allay Joey's suspicions, his rage seemed to have abated somewhat, which came as a huge relief to Chandler.

He ran his palm over his face and cracked his knuckles against his jaw, before gently appealing to his friend's good nature.

"Look. You can't go around accusing people of this kind of stuff, Joe. You could cause a whole lotta trouble for Monica."

Joey shifted his feet pensively before meeting Chandler's shameful gaze.

"OK",

Joey was prepared to concede reluctant defeat. For now.

"You've looked me right in the eye and told me there's nothing going on with her, so I guess all I can do is take you at your word."

Chandler gave a gracious nod of vindication, his stomach sour with lies and self-loathing.

"But I know you, man." Joey warned, "And I know when you're holding something back from me."

Chandler could not bear to make any further comment, and the two of them walked side by side in uncomfortable silence as they returned to Central Perk.

Four intrigued gazes landed upon them the minute they walked through the door.

"Are you guys OK?" Ross queried tentatively, glancing between the pair, receiving nothing but dismissive grunts and nods.

Monica had returned to her spot on the sofa, and her blue eyes were huge and quizzical as she searched Chandler's face for clues as to what had gone on, but Chandler kept his attention fixed firmly on Joey.

Joey gestured for Chandler to take a seat.

To the others this might have appeared magnanimous; Joey's way of signalling that whatever little tempest the two of them had just weathered was forgiven and forgotten; but Chandler knew that it was actually a test, a sure sign that his friend was waiting to watch and appraise his behavior, ready to pounce upon the merest hint of awkwardness or discomfort between Chandler and Monica that would confirm his suspicions.

So, with his jaw set in defiance, Chandler sat down right next to her, just as close as ever, closer even, his thigh pressed warmly against hers, and as he reclined, he did not shy away from allowing his arm to rest across the back of the sofa, right behind her. There would be no discomfort on display here.

Naturally, Monica had felt uneasy when the others had described the inexplicably strange and frenzied departure of their two friends, and she continued to peer at Chandler with fretful curiosity, but he refused to look at her. While he just about trusted his body not to betray him, his face was a different matter, and he was working extremely hard to maintain an expression that was even and inscrutable.

He might have been projecting an air of cool, but beneath his unruffled exterior lay a flustered, sickened bundle of nerves. As conversation rumbled on between the others, his flesh remained feverish and his mind was chaos, he simply could not focus on a single word anybody had to say, and just as soon as he felt that he had demonstrated enough casual, "definitely-not-sleeping-with-Monica" type behavior, he leapt to his feet.

"I'm gonna take off", he declared as he gathered his belongings, "Rach, have an awesome trip! And Mon, thanks so much for my presents".

He stood to give Rachel a brief farewell hug, and then bent to peck a chaste but daring kiss of gratitude against Monica's cheekbone, casting a quick obstinate glare in Joey's direction before making a brisk escape.

In actual fact, Chandler needn't have worried quite so much about his own carefully contrived performance, because since returning to the coffeehouse it was Monica who had really held Joey's attention.

This incident had cast her in a completely new light in Joey's eyes, and he found himself so fascinated by her behavior he was hardly able to tear his gaze away.

Her attention had been darting frequently towards Chandler since they had returned, but that proved nothing. The others had all been eyeing him too. The whole group was understandably intrigued by the manner in which Joey had been inexplicably frogmarched out into the street.

No, Joey's interest in Monica had been piqued by something far more subtle.

It was no great secret that the attachment between Chandler and Monica was deep-rooted and profound, they had known one another for a very long time after all, but until now, Joey had never noticed just how finely attuned Monica was to his roommate.

He wondered if it had always been this way, but as he observed her now he could see that she exhibited a special intuitive awareness when it came to Chandler, anticipating his actions and needs before they had even crossed his mind. She would shift her knees before he needed to stretch a leg; she would slide his bag a little closer to his feet before he had even reached for it; her body would edge the tiniest bit closer to his, offering understated physical comfort whenever she sensed that an offhand remark was likely to bring him the vaguest disquiet.

She seemed to pick up on, and react perfectly to, every tiny non-verbal cue; every gesture, every expression, even just the way he inhabited his personal space.

And she had no idea she was doing it.

Joey had seen this kind of effortless, instinctual bond before: It was exactly how his beloved Nonna had always behaved around his grandfather. The love of her life.

There was more to this than Chandler was letting on.

When Monica stood up to leave, just a few minutes after the man who was clearly her lover, Joey was still watching her like a hawk. He was absolutely certain that she was planning to scuttle across to Chandler's apartment for a furtive debrief, and God knows what else, and Joey had every intention of catching the pair in the act.

He watched through the window as she fastened her coat, a smug flicker of knowing clouding his eyes as she took a couple of steps in the direction of their building, just as he had predicted. But she suddenly stopped, her head turned, and she unexpectedly changed course, heading off in the opposite direction and out of Joey's sight.

Confrontation would have to wait.

"Monica!"

It was an abrupt and urgent call from a shadowy spot down the street that had turned her head, and Chandler's furious gesticulations impelled her towards the mouth of a dank alleyway where he had been lurking and fretting as he impatiently awaited her departure from the coffeehouse.

"Wow, you really do find the most romantic spots!" Despite Chandler's stormy-eyed brooding, Monica could not help but throw him a teasing smirk as she neared. "Where do you want me? Up against the dumpster?"

"Joey's onto us!" he hissed, panicked and unamused. "He saw the necklace before I wrapped it."

Monica sighed deeply and chewed on her lip, serious and thoughtful all of a sudden.

"What did you tell him?"

"I denied it all and fed him some ridiculous, bullshit story, but there's no way he bought it. He knows that I'm lying to him."

Monica's face was full of concern as she watched Chandler's fingers comb agitated trails across his scalp.

"God, I hate this!" he exclaimed through clenched teeth, his entire body tense and twitchy it looked painful.

His anxiety was as infectious as it was extreme, and Monica's own fingertips gravitated to her pendant, her eyes growing round and worried.

"I'll stop wearing it.."

"No," Chandler cut her off brusquely. "That's too obvious, he'll notice. He'll just be waiting to catch us out now".

She regarded him tenderly as she took a step closer, and she took a calming breath before cupping his face in her hands.

"I don't think we should panic about this, Chandler. Joey doesn't know anything, he just suspects. And he's not going to do anything about it anyway. It's not like he's going to rat me out to Richard."

Chandler rejected her attempt at assurance with a steadfast shake of his head.

"If Joey has figured it out, it's not going to be too long before other people start to catch on too. What if Ross starts to suspect? What if Richard does? We can't carry on like this, Monica! I'm sorry, but we just can't!"

Her brow furrowed as she watched him fret and pace.

"Look, Christmas is just two days away! After that, I'll tell Richard that it's over. We're not going to have to do this for very much longer, sweetie. I promise." She pacified, taking his hand between hers and gently massaging his palm with the pad of her thumb.

He looked her in the eye, rueful but full of resolve.

"Listen, Mon. Don't take this the wrong way... but I don't think we should take any more risks until you've sorted things out with him."

"OK." she agreed softly, "We'll be more careful."

Her fingertips were already nudging at his jaw, coaxing him towards her upturned face, lips soft and eyes gently soothing, but Chandler gulped as he placed resolute hands on her shoulders and eased her away.

"No, Mon. I mean, we shouldn't take any risks." he clarified gravely, "I think we should ... you know...cool things down... Just until you've told him."

Monica's mouth dropped open in disbelief and her eyes became frantic as they searched his face.

"What are you saying? Are you saying you want... a break?" she spluttered incredulously.

It was a phrase that had taken on the very worst of connotations, having become the tagline to Ross and Rachel's traumatic breakup a couple of years previously, and the terminology immediately turned Chandler's stomach.

"No, of course not!" he dismissed, turning his face away from hers, finding the abject hurt in her eyes completely unbearable to witness. "At least not that kind of a break!"

He squeezed his eyelids closed and winced when he heard her release an anguished gasp, then he turned to face her nervously, his voice as gentle as the stroke of a feather.

"Look, you just said it yourself, honey: Christmas is only a couple of days away. I just think it would be wise to... create a little distance until you've spoken to Richard. That's all".

But Monica's distress was not even remotely alleviated.

"So what? We just completely stop seeing each other? And you're OK with that?" She shook her head and pain shone in her eyes, "Because I'm not! I can't do this without you, Chandler! And what if it turns out to be longer than just a few days? What if it's a week? Or more?"

His head tilted to one side as he paused to scrutinize her face, before letting out an aggrieved sigh. A trace of warning flamed in his eyes, and his tone became suddenly pressured.

"Why would it be longer, Monica? You said you were going to tell him after Christmas. That was always the plan."

"Well yeah! After Christmas. That doesn't mean I'm going to wake up on December 26th and hand him the divorce papers along with his bowl of cornflakes, does it! I might need a little more time than that!"

Chandler began to pace back and forth again, his nod slow and his scoff without mirth.

"Of course!" his exclamation dripped with sarcasm, "And then it'll be New Year! You can't break up with him on New Year! And January's a depressing month for everybody, right? Can't do it then! ... Then we're into February, and who dumps a guy right before Valentine's Day?"

"I am not stalling!" she growled, irked by his derision, her eyes glistening and fiery, "But the time has to be right!"

"There's never going to be a right time!" Chandler pointed out, his voice high-pitched and his fingers clawing at his hair in total exasperation "That's what I'm saying! He's gonna be devastated whenever you do it!"

Monica's face crumbled as she fought back desolate tears, and Chandler exhaled loudly before carefully softening his demeanor.

"Look, whenever you tell him it's over, he's gonna be upset. But who knows how he'll feel, and more importantly, how he'll react, if he finds out some other way. You cannot let that happen, Mon. You have to take control of this! And you have to do it soon."

She knew he was right, of course she did, but she stuck out her chin and folded her arms stubbornly.

"Why are you freaking out so much about this? I'm the one who has to deal with Richard, not you! Or are you worried that if he finds out about us he'll come round here and beat you up or something? Because I really don't think that's his style!"

Chandler's frustration flared once again.

"I'm not worried about me! I'm worried about you! Every time the phone rings, or there's a knock at the door I'm just waiting for someone to tell me that Richard has found out the truth. The idea of you arriving home one day, and him... lying in wait, ready to confront you... It terrifies me!"

"I'm going to tell him before that happens!" she pledged desperately.

"Well then do it! And do it soon! Because I don't want us to be apart for a moment longer than we have to be, but we can't keep sneaking around like this. I'm sorry, Mon, but I just can't do it anymore! What happened today with Joey was awful. And I feel like I'm putting you at risk".

The way she rolled her eyes was beyond infuriating.

"Oh come on! I'm not at risk! Richard's not some monster! I really think you're being a little dramatic about this!"

Chandler's head lolled back against the wall as he expelled an aggravated groan, and when he looked back towards her she was examining him intently.

"Are you sure this is even about Richard? Is that really what's freaking you out here?"

He stared back at her blankly.

"I mean, it's been a pretty big day hasn't it? Expensive gifts, giving me keys to your apartment... Are you sure it hasn't been a little bit too much? Are you sure this isn't just one of your... weird commitment meltdowns?"

Chandler was sufficiently angered by this patronizing and wholly inaccurate suggestion, that he was able to ignore the distress in her eyes and the emotional wobble of her chin.

"Oh my God, Monica! Why the hell would you even think that? When have I ever given you any reason to think that I'm afraid to commit to you?"

"Well you can hardly blame me for feeling confused, can you?" she countered tremulously, stifling a potentially loud sob, "It's a little unsettling when a guy gives you an infinity necklace and a key to his apartment, and then an hour later tells you he wants to take a break!"

"I never said I wanted to take a break! Now who's being dramatic?" Chandler challenged, his hand flying to his forehead in frustration "And I hardly think you're in a position to be lecturing anybody about committed relationships right now! "

Too far.

Chandler's stomach gave a nauseous lurch and Monica looked like she had been slapped in the face.

"I didn't mean that." He mumbled with a weary sigh and a remorseful shake of his head.

"Yes you did." Her words emerged as shameful wisps that she could hardly bear to speak, "And you're right."

The fact that he could find not even the barest trace of anger in her dewy eyes made him feel even worse.

"No, I'm not right, Mon, I was just frustrated and I lashed out-"

She shook her head, insistent and resigned, as she blinked back dispassionate tears.

"No. You're right. I'm a cheat, I'm a liar, and I'm a coward. What I'm doing to Richard is wrong. Plain and simple. We've been denying it and making excuses... but what I'm doing? It's indefensible. And one of these days I'm gonna get caught."

Chandler sighed. His commitment to his own suggestion of creating distance was already beginning to waver. The idea that things might be easier if they kept things outwardly platonic over Christmas had been borne out of panic, and the longer he sat with it, the more it felt like pure folly.

He placed his hands on her shoulders and tried to reconnect with her mournful blue eyes, but Monica had drifted into a distant and somber state of inner contemplation.

He gazed back at her and his heart began to quicken as he watched a process of realization and resolution flit across her faraway face.

"You're right about it all," she shrugged, defeated, "I can't risk Richard finding out on his own; he deserves better than that. I have to be the one to tell him. I really hate the idea of not seeing you, Chandler, even for a few days, but you're right.

We can't do this anymore. Not if people are catching on to us".

Despite this having been his own panic-driven idea in the first place, hearing her repeat it back to him, firmly and rationally, sent dread creeping across his chest like ice.

This whole conversation suddenly felt like a huge mistake.

What the hell was he thinking? Why would he push her away like this?

She was everything he had never dared to want, an impossible fantasy made flesh, and yet here he was, allowing her to slip through his fingers instead of holding her tight.

He dipped his head nervously, trying to encourage her gaze to meet his, but she suddenly seemed so distant that he was momentarily terrified that his madness had woken her up from whatever dreamlike state it was that had magically made her love him the exact same way he loved her.

He made a desperate grab for her hands. It was probably just the December air, but they felt so cold and limp, so insusceptible to his touch, that it made him panic even more, squeezing and rubbing at her fingers as if trying to resuscitate the passionate affection he had just stupidly rebuffed, applying all of the rough vigor of somebody trying to stimulate life in the flaccid body of a traumatically delivered newborn puppy.

"You do understand what I meant right? You know I love you more than anything, Mon. And you're the best thing that ever happened to me. I just want you to tell him, so that the lies, and the guilt, and the worry can all be over. That's all I want! I just want to be with you. I definitely don't want a break."

He managed to exhale when her fingers finally squeezed back. Faint and feeble, but a welcome sign of life.

"I love you too" she said softly, but to Chandler she still felt frighteningly far away. "I love you so much. And I am going to leave him, Chandler. As soon as I can. But I can't give you a time and a date right now. It's just not that easy. I'm sorry."

"I know that, and I wasn't trying to pressure you! I'll wait, of course I will!"

Monica's icy fingers compressed his knuckles more robustly.

"It won't be for long. We can manage a few days of being careful. We'll be OK, won't we?".

He was not sure if she was speaking rhetorically or seeking reassurance, but he could barely even nod.

"Joey will be wondering where you are. We should go." she quietly advised.

It was a strange conversation that she did not really know how to close. It was not like this was a goodbye that was in any way final, but not setting a date for their next tryst felt horribly uncertain. And maybe it was made worse by the heightened emotions of the holidays, but it just felt plain sad. So sad that she might even have cried, but she was just too dazed for tears.

"Thank you for today. For my beautiful presents. I guess we'll just... see each other next week some time."

She suddenly felt like she was listening in on a conversation between strangers, her own voice ringing hollow, aloof, and foreign in her head.

"I really hope you and Phoebe have fun at the party."

Chandler knew that her remoteness was not designed to punish; it was simply a sorrowful and sensible commitment to the stupid, level-headed new plan he wished he had never suggested; but it still hurt his heart.

"I'll see you before Christmas Day, won't I? I mean, even if we're with the others? We'll still see each other?"

His eyes grew wide and desperate, but Monica just looked numb.

"Maybe?" she gave a bewildered shrug, "I'm not really sure, I guess we'll just have to see what happens. We probably shouldn't call each other, or plan anything in case Joey catches us out."

Her pensive eyes moved towards the recently illuminated streetlights at the entrance of the murky alley.

"Come on. We should go" she repeated solemnly.

Chandler stood and stared.

No! We shouldn't! We should stay here, and make out, and then decide where we're going to meet up tomorrow so we can make mad passionate love like we always do. Ignore what I said before! I'm an idiot! I can't live without you! And this was just about the dumbest idea I ever fucking had!

But it wasn't dumb. Not really. It was sensible, and correct, and it felt just awful.

His forehead crumpled and before they emerged from the safe cloak of darkness he pulled her into a ferocious bear hug, knowing full well that it would be a struggle to let go.

He was secretly hoping that she would flagrantly ignore his expressed wishes; that she would tilt her chin towards his, sapphire eyes ablaze, lips parted and irresistible.

He half expected that she would.

But instead, she just hugged him back.

December 23rd was just miserable.

Not a glimpse.

Not a word.

It was a given that Monica would be the first thought in Chandler's head when he woke up, she always was these days, but this morning, instead of the usual secretive smile curving his lips as he began to map out where, when and how they might be able to devour each other that day, he remembered Joey's suspicions, and the dumb new plan, and he expelled a loud groan.

As he stumbled, listless and groggy, from his bedroom, his eyes wandered towards the phone, wondering whether, despite what had been said, she might still call, and then debating whether or not he should call her.

His face contorted into a baffled frown when he discovered that the phone had vanished from its usual spot on the kitchen counter, before quickly locating it, and being forced to remember exactly why it was lying on the floor.

When he recalled the way her euphoria had caused her limbs to thrash, sweeping the phone from the bench with wild abandon; when he thought about the sounds she had made, the ecstasy on that beautiful face, it made him want to curl up on the ground too, just another broken and discarded remnant of that sublimely passionate clinch.

The last they would share for an indeterminate amount of time thanks to him, and his stupid, prudent idea.

He felt his whole body deflate, and his face collapsed in anguish.

As he stooped to pick up the phone and replaced the base unit on the counter, he brought the receiver to his ear and was relieved to find that it was not actually broken.

Maybe she would call?

She didn't call.

Chandler ate his breakfast with his eyes glued to that defiantly silent phone, then he went to work and stared at the phone on his desk the exact same way.

He took regular wanders past Linda's workstation, each time casually inquiring if there were any messages for him. Under normal circumstances, the ill-tempered receptionist would not have bothered to disguise her annoyance in the face of such pestering, but today, buoyed by the spirit of Christmas, a jaunty Santa hat sitting atop of her sullen head, she managed to answer him civilly every single time.

But every single time the answer was "No".

By the time he arrived home that afternoon, the anxiety surrounding yesterday's conversation and their subsequent lack of contact, had rendered him frantic and clammy.

He felt sick. He could not sit still. He could have sworn that his heart was galloping too. The way his body was reacting to all of this surely provided conclusive proof that his need for Monica was biochemical? How could he have thought for one moment that starving himself of her would solve anything?

He wondered if she was missing him like this too.

He hoped that she wasn't.

The idea of her, sad and alone, rattling around in that immaculate but austere apartment; a place that in Chandler's opinion had always felt far too "Richard" and not enough "Monica"; made his chest throb with pain.

But maybe she was not sad and alone?

Maybe Richard was there too. Maybe he would sense her vulnerability and would seek to soothe and entice?

Maybe he would suggest that the two of them settle down to watch a holiday movie tonight? Sit a little closer on the couch. They might reminisce about the good times; have a laugh together, reconnect over a glass of wine.

She had loved Richard once upon a time, hadn't she?

She still cared about him now, she freely admitted that.

It would make life much simpler for her if she just stayed with him, wouldn't it?

All the big tree needed was a window of opportunity to stoke the dying embers and win her back, and Chandler had just gifted it to him, wrapped up with a big Christmas bow.

As all of these snippets of paranoia, anxiety and self-doubt collided, and blended, and stitched themselves together, they formed a narrative that Chandler knew full well to be utterly preposterous, but it was oh so hard to dismiss.

He reassured himself that Monica loved him. She wanted the same thing he did. He knew that she did. He was being ridiculous. But shaking off this type of invasive negative thought is always much easier said than done.

He clamped his face in his hands, allocating himself another half hour of stewing and self-torture, before he would have to head out for an excruciating evening of depressing festive drinks with his colleagues.

As he flopped dejectedly into his lounger, something unexpectedly bulky dug into his back. He winced as he reached behind him, fishing out the uncomfortable foreign object.

Huggsy.

Joey's stupid stuffed penguin pal.

Fairly or unfairly, Chandler placed a large portion of blame for his current despair squarely at Joey's feet. Snooping around his Christmas presents. Making him feel like the worst person in the world with his big, brown, betrayed eyes. Panicking him into making rash decisions.

He scowled at the mild-mannered penguin before standing and launching him with undue vigor through Joey's open bedroom door, sending him bouncing across his bed.

It was probably fortuitous that Chandler had seen very little of his mistrustful roommate today. If he had been forced to endure Joey's cynical attempts at interrogation on top of his own self-punishment, there was a fair chance Chandler would have snapped.

Showering and changing for his evening out was all taken care of by autopilot, and by now he was feeling so insular that he had no real clue how he was going to find it within himself to make polite small talk with his colleagues all evening.

He had ten minutes to spare, so he wandered somewhat aimlessly over to Ross's place, and was almost winded by Ben the moment he walked through the door. The little boy careered into the lower portion of Chandler's body, an enthusiastic greeting that seemed to be part hug, part rugby tackle.

A fond grin spread across Chandler's face for the first time that day, and he grabbed the child by the waist, hoisting him into his arms, and tickling his armpits as he writhed and giggled in glee.

He had not even registered Monica's presence in the room, so when he finally glanced up and his eyes unexpectedly found hers, his breath hitched and the whole world seemed to screech to a halt.

She was leaning against the counter, legs crossed and arms folded as she watched their boisterous play. An exquisitely affectionate smile was tugging at her rosy lips and her eyes were so limpid and dovelike, that Chandler felt like he was gazing upon an actual angel.

His roughhousing with Ben diminished to stillness, almost forgetting that the child was still in his arms, as his heart clenched hard, straining, thrusting a painfully intense surge of yearning through every vein.

Ben's small, slightly tacky fingers took hold of Chandler's cheeks, sensing his waning attention and determined to seize it back from his aunt, apparently unafraid to use brute force if necessary.

His adamant touch brought Chandler back down to earth, and he managed to exchange normal pleasantries with both Monica and Ross, giving Ben a firm squeeze and quick swing in the air before setting his feet on the ground.

He really was trying hard not to stare at Monica, but found himself fighting a very real physical compulsion to soak up as much of her as he could, overwhelmed by a need to drink her in with the thirst of a desert-parched animal that had finally happened upon a watering hole.

Their pledge to maintain some distance was just one day old, but already his flesh felt bereft of hers, and somewhere in his physiology there existed a painful awareness that after weeks of feeding his addiction to her at every available opportunity, she was suddenly going to be in desperately short supply.

He was now sure that despite his vow of restraint, if Ross and Ben were to leave the room right now his resolve would snap like the spindliest of twigs, and he would do what was normal and natural; he would just crush his lips against hers and ravish her; to hell with caution and sense.

His pulse quickened at the thought and his eyes moved to Ross, silently willing him to take a walk.

Ben's insistent tug at the sleeve of his shirt, shook him out of this latest daze.

"Hey, guess what? Uncle Richard is taking me for a ride in his Jaguar!"

All of that thought of ravishment had caused thick ropes of tense desire to knot and coil deep in Chandler's belly, creating a burning friction that had fired up every muscle in his body, but Richard's name was like a bucket of cold water: everything slackened and withered at an astonishing rate, to the point where Chandler felt liable to collapse in a tangle of useless limbs, like some carelessly discarded puppet.

"Wow! That's great, buddy!" he managed to exclaim, smiling down at Ben with impressively believable awe.

"Hey Chandler! Long time no see!" Richard's warm greeting, as he emerged from the bathroom, was equally as convincing, but the sight of his mustached smirk sent Chandler's heart plummeting into an abyss.

"You can come with us, if you want?" Ben suggested, sliding his warm little hand into Chandler's palm.

Of course, Ross knew only too well that there was very little love lost between Chandler and Richard these days, and his eyes were moving between the faces of the two men with slightly anxious intrigue. He was not sure which one of them disguised his grimace most effectively when Ben made his innocent proposal, but he quickly intervened to save them from further discomfort.

"It looks to me like Uncle Chandler already has plans. Look! He's all dressed up!"

Monica stared down at her boots, as if they were the most interesting boots in the world. She had certainly noticed how dashing Chandler looked; freshly showered, clean-shaven, smartly clothed. She was busy battling urges of her own; wishing she could get close enough to inhale a much needed lungful of cologne and pheromones, and she was hoping that her eyes did not look as hungry as the rest of her felt.

"Yeah, I'm meeting a few people from my office for drinks", Chandler declined Ben's invitation and explained his sharp attire, "Can you please let Joey know, if he comes home?"

"Is Stacey going to be there?" Ross asked with a hint of a smirk.

"Just people from my floor" Chandler replied evenly, trying not to fixate on the arm Richard had snaked around Monica's waist after coming to rest against the counter beside her.

"Is Stacey your girlfriend?" guessed Ben, causing Richard's eyebrows to flicker with curiosity.

"Just a lady from work", Chandler dismissed, ruffling the little boy's blonde locks and daring another glance in Monica's direction.

Richard's meaty thumb was massaging circles against her hip bone now, as she stood still and straight, her neutral gaze still firmly on the floor.

She didn't look pleased, but neither did she look horrified. Why wasn't she horrified? Why wasn't she recoiling from his touch?

A mean inner voice that sounded a tiny bit like Ross sniggered as it reminded him,

"Well, you guys are on a break".

It's not a break!

Chandler yelled back at that snide little voice with all his might, his eyes growing wide when he suddenly worried that he might actually have shouted out loud.

"It's a shame Stacey's not going to be there. You could have worn your new hat..." Ross smirked again.

"What new hat?" Chandler had no clue what his friend was talking about.

"Joey hasn't shown you yet? He bought you and him matching baseball caps with mistletoe hanging off of them, all ready to woo those lucky Australian dancers on Christmas Day."

Chandler rolled his eyes wearily as Richard, Ross and Monica all chuckled.

"Oh please put it on tonight! Linda will love it!" Monica pleaded, and he met her suddenly playful gaze with sarcastic smoulder.

The faint flirtation hidden in that eye contact was enough to cause Chandler's heart to take flight, but it soon crashed into a cliff edge and landed in a plume of toxic smoke when Richard leaned in and pressed his wet lips against Monica's cheek.

"We should go", he suggested, patting her waist gently, "Traffic might be heavy."

Monica nodded in agreement and shot Ben an excited smile.

She moved away from Richard and came closer to Chandler, offering her hand to her nephew "You ready to go, sweetie?"

Chandler unhooked Ben's fingers from his own, passing the child on to Monica like a baton.

She smiled up at him, her eyes soft but intense, telling him all of the things they could not say out loud, but that he desperately needed to hear. As he gazed back into those deep pools of blue, he felt like he was swimming in her love, and it was pure bliss.

But she and Ben were soon harried towards the door by Richard, and as the trio descended the stairs, their footsteps and voices gradually fading from earshot, Chandler's momentarily soothed heart let out another anguished wail.

"Where are they going?" he asked morosely, as he dragged his eyes from the closed door and turned towards Ross.

"Ice-skating" Ross replied, taking a swig of water.

Chandler let out a disparaging scoff, "Is that really a good idea, at his age?"

"He loves it," Ross shrugged, "Carol and Susan took him last week and he got on just fine".

"I was talking about Richard." Chandler replied sardonically "This has "New Year, new hip" written all over it".

Ross returned an amused snigger, but Chandler's expression suddenly changed to one of huge concern.

"And what about Monica? Her ankle only just healed after the last little adventure Richard planned for her! And if she falls and lands wrong on that wrist -"

Ross looked baffled by Chandler's slightly angry and accusatory tone.

"It was her idea! She's a big girl, Chandler, I'm sure she knows her own limits. And anyway, she's skating with Ben and Richard; I doubt she'll be spinning around the rink like Dorothy Hamill".

Chandler made a grumbling sound.

"Are you OK?" Ross suddenly looked concerned "You seem a little stressed..."

Chandler wasn't OK. He wasn't OK at all.

He was just furious with himself.

He realized now that his suggestion of restraint was as pointless as it was painful.

The lie still felt just as monumental; the subterfuge was still just as hard; the only difference was that now he had to do it all without the balm of Monica's touch.

"I'm fine" he told Ross grimly, "I just really hate the holidays".

As Ross had predicted, the three ice skaters were taking things slow and steady as they navigated the crowded rink, red-cheeked and cold-nosed, puffy white clouds of breath blossoming from their lips.

When Monica had mentioned to Richard that she was planning this excursion as a festive treat for Ben, she had not thought for one second that he would offer to join them. In fact, up until that point, she had half been wondering if she might be able to contrive a non-suspicious way to invite Chandler along. But then Joey had ruined everything with his annoying but accurate speculations.

So far, the three of them had stayed together in a line, clutching at each other's gloved hands as they shuffled around the scuffed ice, eyes wide with concentration, emitting the occasional loud shriek or giggle, as one or other of them lost their balance.

Richard was by no means a natural skater, and while Monica and Ben grew ever more confident and adventurous, he flatly refused to venture too far from the perimeter of the rink, keen to ensure that he was always in grabbing distance of the surrounding fence.

Ben's level of skill fell somewhat short of his zeal and sense of daring; his limbs as unsteady and ungainly as a recently born giraffe; and as he attempted to speed up, his legs suddenly spun wildly out of control, almost unbalancing all three of them. Monica chuckled as she watched Richard take another desperate plunge towards the barrier.

"C'mon, let's go into the middle!" Ben suggested, between enthusiastic stumbles.

"Alright", Monica reluctantly agreed "But I think Uncle Richard wants to stay close to the edge, so you'll only have my hand to hold onto. Is that OK?"

Monica shot Richard an intrepid smile as she gripped Ben's hand tight, ready to take his full force, and she slowly led him closer to the excitement of the inner-circle of the rink, where the most competent skaters honed and flaunted their impressive glides and spins, dramatic plumes of powdery ice cascading from the blades of their skates.

A perky, lycra-clad blonde woman flew past them, skating backwards and then landing a graceful jump.

"Did you see that?" Ben was suitably dazzled, and Monica nodded as she returned his wide-eyed beam of astonishment.

Spending time with her cherished nephew was always a tonic, and it was good for Monica to take her mind off what she knew was going to be a traumatic week ahead.

In addition, focusing on Ben was also proving to be a good distraction from how much she was missing Chandler.

It was ridiculous how hard she was finding this new, more distant, arrangement between them. It had only been active for one day, and her levels of yearning were already through the roof, so much so, that she had felt a genuine sense of pride, and deemed herself incredibly sensible and accomplished, when she had deliberately not sought him out when they had collected Ben from Bedford Street this afternoon. But then the moment he had walked through the door she had felt her heart light up like a galaxy of stars, and she was back to being the dreamy-eyed obsessive she was before.

That little window of time, before Chandler had even noticed that she was there, when she had been able to just stand and admire his natural, God-given sweetness as he played with Ben, had felt like the most precious of gifts.

Seeing Chandler in a role that was in any way parental did something indescribable to her, and glimpsing that adorable little vignette had generated a primal reproductive ache so potent that it had made it even harder for her to do what he had asked of her and maintain a safe and inconspicuous distance.

A tingling feeling shivered its way through her entire body, and she knew it had nothing to do with the frozen air.

Ben suddenly nosedived towards the ice once more, and she just managed to spin herself around and grab a hold of his elbow, laughing as she set him firmly back on his feet.

When she looked up again, her eyes met Richard's. He was clearly glad of the opportunity to come to a complete standstill, and was observing their limited progress from the edge of the rink, an expression of fond amusement on his face, and both of his arms wrapped tight around the barrier keeping him securely upright.

They shared another smile, and Monica's stomach flipped.

She genuinely could not remember the last time they had had fun together like this; a sad irony that left her feeling horribly conflicted.

She might not love Richard anymore, but she certainly bore him no ill-feeling, and as the end of their marriage drew near, her instinct was to treat him with kindness and platonic affection.

She supposed what she really craved was a gentle goodbye, but in reality she knew there was little chance of that. You don't get the luxury of a drama free divorce if you fall in love with another man, do you?

So, by treating Richard genially was she actually just being unduly cruel? Was her civility lulling him into a false sense of security that would make her ultimate rejection even harder for him to take? Would coldness be kinder to him in the long run?

She turned away, too guilty to even look at him. She still could not quite believe she had allowed this situation to evolve the way it had, and she hated herself for not taking control of it sooner.

Ben squealed as he tumbled again, grabbing her leg and almost bringing her down on top of him. A chisel-jawed man with the kind of skills and skates that suggested he was on the rink in some sort of professional capacity, witnessed their wobble and steadied them both, as Richard continued to chuckle affectionately from afar.

"Shall we head back over to Uncle Richard? I think it's almost time to take off our skates and get hot chocolate"

The way Ben was fearlessly propelling himself around, it was beginning to feel almost inevitable that somebody would wind up wearing a cast over Christmas, so Monica was keen to quit while they were ahead.

"You guys looked great out there!" Richard complimented as they made their way back over, bravely removing a hand from the barrier in order to pat Ben's head.

They staggered breathlessly from the ice, retrieved their shoes and found a spot to sit down. As they unlaced their skates, melting ice numbing their fingers as it dripped and pooled around the blades, Monica felt the coolness of Richard's hand penetrate her clothes as it came to rest softly against the small of her back.

"You really did look great out there", he told her again, his voice quiet and tender. "You're a natural with Ben. With all kids, in fact."

Her ribs tensed as he continued to speak, and she remained silent, hunched over her skates, fiddling with the sodden laces and adjusting her socks for an unseemly amount of time.

"I know things have been hard... But it is going to happen for us, I know it will. I want this so badly for us, Monica, and I swear to you, I'm going to do whatever it takes. We'll be back here with our own little boy or girl one of these days. I promise."

Monica gulped hard and tried to blink away the burn in her eyes. Every inch of her flesh was aflame, tingling with intense sensation.

Anger.

Pure, unadulterated anger.

Where the hell was all of this a year ago?

So many times she had yearned to hear those words! To hear any words that would have provided her with even the sparsest of hopes that Richard wanted a child a fraction as much as she did.

She traveled back in time, remembering the hurt and devastation she had experienced every time he had left a room when she began to speak about fertility treatments, or stayed late at work just so he could avoid bearing witness to yet another negative pregnancy test.

She had felt so constantly wretched back then; hopeless; desperate to receive just the merest indication that he wanted what she wanted; that she was not battling alone.

She tucked her hair behind her ears with tremulous fingers, but her gaze stayed fixed to the floor.

Her anger was real and it was potent, but it burned fast and short; a highly flammable flash of a combustion that left no trace behind.

None of it mattered anymore. She was done with the past

Knowing what she knew now, and feeling all of the incredible things she now felt, Monica was absolutely certain that a family with Richard was not the path she had ever been destined to take.

She did not speak a word, or even meet Richard's eye as she moved towards Ben to help him tie up his sneakers and put on his gloves.

Maybe she would come back here one day with a son or daughter of her own. A tiny cousin to hold Ben's hand.

She certainly hoped so.

She wrapped an arm around her nephew, as she began to imagine it all as vividly as she was able.

She pictured herself pulling warm mittens over a pair of chubby little hands, kissing soft cheeks, blushed pink with cold, and when she imagined seeing a perfect replica of the most beautiful blue eyes in the world sparkling back up at her, her lips softened to a secret smile, and her skin came alive once more.

This time the tingles weren't the angry, prickling kind; instead they were the type of tingles that Monica loved the most; the special ones that only ever found her when she saw Chandler's face.