A/N The site is still pretty broken, so I'm sorry if I haven't replied to messages / comments - they seem to appear and disappear at will - as do chapters and new stories! Hopefully this will post at some point...
Neither man had spoken a word since Richard had turned on the ignition, but when he accelerated unnecessarily sharply towards the exit, and the sporty roar of the Jaguar's engine reverberated powerfully around the garage, Chandler could not fail to notice the bragging sideways glance cast in his direction.
He stared staunchly ahead but inside he gave an almighty eye roll. The outlandishly overt display of supposed masculine superiority was so obvious, and so utterly tragic, that Chandler almost remarked out loud that Richard might as well have just dropped his pants and brandished his penis instead, but he managed to hold his tongue.
Richard could accelerate as hard as he liked in a garage, but the Jaguar's hungry purr was, as ever, wasted in the stop-start Manhattan traffic, and they soon found themselves crawling along at 10mph, their mutual teeth-clenching silence being drowned out by the soft rock CD that had started to play embarrassingly loudly as soon as Richard had started up the engine.
Chandler wasn't sure of the artist; the vocals sounded like Paul McCartney, so he thought it might be Wings; but whoever it was, the excessive volume somehow managed to make an already intolerably uncomfortable situation feel even more excruciating still, but Richard seemed to be under the misguided impression that turning it down would represent some kind of personal defeat.
Chandler strummed his fingers awkwardly against his thigh and exhaled a forceful breath, allowing it to vibrate his lips as it emerged.
Even though it was only early afternoon, the winter sun hung low in the sky and the towering buildings that lined their route seemed to shimmer like water through the haze of pollution and pale golden light.
Chandler wound down his window a notch, confident that the resultant wafts of carbon monoxide fumes would prove less stifling than Richard's overpowering car air freshener, and he finally requested "Can we please turn the music down before my ears start to bleed?"
Richard scoffed and glowered as he turned off the CD player with an excessively hard press of a button, but he was secretly relieved by Chandler's demand. Listening to "Silly Love Songs" with his wife's secret boyfriend had certainly not been on his to-do list today.
Chandler braved a reproachful glance at him from the corner of his eye, before scanning the pristine interior of the car with unconcealed distaste. He had been in this car plenty of times, but he had never noticed how mind-numbingly beige it was before. His mused that it felt like the kind of car where a pair of string back driving gloves ought to be compulsory. He bet Richard had some stashed away somewhere.
No doubt Monica was appreciative of how meticulously maintained it was; it really was "Monica clean" in here, he would give the guy that.
Chandler supposed that was just the kind of trivially observed evidence of compatibility that had convinced all of the others; maybe even Monica herself to an extent; that she and Richard were a match made in heaven; a notion that Chandler himself had never been able to fully buy into.
Sure, there was an irrefutably mature, responsible, settled side to Monica, and Chandler could see why that might make her seem like a somewhat congruous candidate for a level-headed and supposedly sophisticated, older man. He had never had any doubt that she was cultured enough, and socially intelligent enough, to hold her own in the civilized, grown-up world they all assumed Richard inhabited; but in reality, there was so much more to Monica than that.
In fact, there were some aspects of Monica that Chandler could not imagine would be deemed tolerable by somebody as colorless as Richard at all.
Monica was a passionate woman; downright fiery at times. She was plagued with a host of mildly obsessive quirks, and she possessed a fiercely competitive streak that often led her to behave in ways that were quite frankly, far less refined than she liked to act in Richard's presence.
In fact, though he might hesitate to declare it to her face, Chandler would go so far as to say that Monica Geller could, on occasion, be rather childish and a little bit petulant.
Not that it bothered Chandler, of course; he could be both of those things himself, and it actually rather amused him when Monica misbehaved.
He did, however, find it galling that when it came to Monica's relationship with Richard, other people, even their best friends, seemed blind to the fact that she was holding back certain character traits from the man who was supposed to love and cherish her unequivocally; and he could not quite believe that he was the only person who could see, that when she was with Richard, Monica was not quite her authentic self.
Maybe that was because Monica was skillfully adept at concealing what she considered to be the least attractive facets of her personality when in polite company?
But did Richard really qualify as "polite company"? Should a husband ever be that?
After she had been seeing Richard for a few weeks, Chandler remembered Monica proudly telling him and Rachel that she had "opened up" to her boyfriend, bravely coming clean to him that she had a few neuroses. Apparently, Richard had dared to attempt to change the sheets on her bed, he had inevitably messed it up, and she had been forced to reveal to him that she was peculiarly particular about how certain things were done.
Rachel had oohed and aahed about this apparently pivotal baring of souls, but Chandler had to smother a scoff.
Correctly rotated bedding was the very tip of the iceberg when it came to Monica's mountain of idiosyncrasies, and if she was worried that something as innocuous as a foible about a duvet cover might have been enough to scare Richard off, one had to question how the man would react when he began to peel away more of the weird and wonderful layers of Monica.
How would Richard have reacted to seeing Monica scrapping in the street with Chandler following her bossy attempts at personal training?
What would he have thought about her getting so ridiculously invested in a friendly game of football, that she had ruthlessly wrestled her brother on the floor of a cold, damp park until nightfall, rather than concede defeat and relinquish "The Geller Cup"?
The fact that said trophy was essentially just a troll doll nailed to a piece of wood might even prove a little bit alarming in itself, to a man unused to such things.
And how the hell was he going to cope when something so civilized as a friendly game of Pictionary or Mad Libs inevitably descended into boards, and plates, and pens being hurled across the room in a hissy fit of frustration? Board games with Monica were not for the faint hearted, and Chandler was far from convinced that Richard had what it takes.
This kind of behavior might not be seen as particularly laudable, and Chandler could of course see why Monica might have been reluctant to share this side of her character with a brand new boyfriend, but when she eventually got round to marrying the guy she was still masking aspects of her personality , and Chandler could not help but feel worried: Everybody needs a safe space to release their flaws and be their imperfect selves, and surely that safe space should be with your spouse?
Monica never hid anything from Chandler. Why would she? Even when platonic, his love for her had always been unconditional, just as hers was for him. The two of them were able to find beauty and laughter in each other's little eccentricities; they were unafraid to call out and challenge unacceptable behavior; and though they might infuriate each other from time to time, Chandler secretly enjoyed their little tiffs and tussles, finding them rather more invigorating than he cared to admit.
Providing one another with a safe space had never been a problem for Chandler and Monica, and as Chandler had continued to observe her blossoming relationship with Richard from a respectful distance, he could not help but worry that her boyfriend might fail to offer her the same.
The idea that she might be unconsciously changing herself to fit Richard better had been a particularly depressing moment of realization for Chandler. It came to him during an evening of foosball, long before she and Richard got engaged, and it had stuck with him ever since.
It was at a time when, at Monica's behest, he and Joey had taken Richard under their wing, in an attempt to make him feel less out of place among their tight knit group of six.
It had actually gone quite well at first: the two younger men had initially found a lot to like about Richard, and had genuinely enjoyed his company. Monica had found it simultaneously endearing and amusing when the boys came home unashamedly impressed by her new boyfriend; declaring him "cool" and "smooth", even seeking to emulate a little of that themselves.
Richard had enjoyed himself too; appreciating Joey and Chandler's youthful vigor and sense of fun, and of course, he had found their unconcealed admiration rather flattering.
But then came an evening of foosball in Apartment 19, and things had taken a slightly sour turn when Richard had suddenly started to piss Chandler off.
Whilst his competitive nature paled into insignificance when compared with Monica's, Chandler did share her tendency to get a little worked up and overly combative during games, and tonight, Richard's self-satisfied boastfulness as he beat him and Joey, one man against two, was starting to make Chandler's jaw feel unpleasantly tight.
The mocking banter between the three of them became gradually more personal; Chandler made a little dig about Richard's age, and when Richard retaliated with a sneering jibe about the tentative beginnings of Chandler's attempt to grow a mustache, that was it; Chandler was officially riled.
He'd had enough of Richard for today, and was more than ready to see the back him, so he was secretly glad when Monica turned up at the door with the intention of extracting her boyfriend, telling him that his dinner was ready.
Despite his irritability, Chandler was keen to end the evening on an amiable note, and he put his grumpiness and his grievances to one side, even being gracious enough to apologize to Monica for monopolizing Richard's time when it became clear that she was starting to feel a little left out and neglected in the wake of their masculine bonding.
The day would have come to a satisfactory close, but then Joey managed to ruin everything.
Oblivious and tactless as ever, the Italian had completely dropped both himself and Chandler right in it, cheerfully declaring that the two of them thought of Richard not as a friend or contemporary, but rather as a father figure; a revelation that put an abrupt and cringe-worthy end to any hope Monica and Richard might have had that the older man had cemented his place as "one of the guys". Chandler had tried his best to deny it and smooth things over, but neither Monica nor Richard had been fooled.
This awkward exchange had caused Chandler's residual annoyance to take a tour of the room, first leaving Richard and landing directly upon Joey, with his woeful lack of social skills, but eventually, perhaps a little surprisingly, coming to settle upon Monica.
He was not sure how she managed to get under his skin quite so much; she was always going to form a united front with Richard over this; he was her boyfriend, and the wronged party; it was only natural that she would want to defend him.
But the way she had simpered at Richard's side; snuggling into him; her smug, scathing gaze moving between Chandler and Joey with equal disdain, even though Chandler had tried his absolute hardest to diffuse Joey's stupid words! Man, she had really rubbed Chandler up the wrong way.
When she bid them "Nighty night" in the most patronizing voice she could possibly find, he had to stifle a genuinely angry scowl.
The sheer audacity of the woman!
Sashaying out of there with her super mature boyfriend, acting like he and Joey were nothing more than a couple of silly little boys.
He could understand her being cross with Joey, but he failed to see how he was deserving of her scorn? All he had done was try to be friendly and welcoming to her elderly boyfriend, and then made brave attempts to put out the fires of truth started by his careless roommate!
As Monica and Richard had strode out into the hall, sickeningly entwined in each other's arms, Chandler almost shouted after them. He wanted to warn Richard not to be fooled by the haughty pout on that elegant face; to inform him that Monica was not quite the polished and refined lady she was making herself out to be.
He wanted to tell him that Monica might be acting all superior now, but there had been many night when she had implanted herself at this foosball table, beer in hand, cursing like a sailor whenever she conceded a goal, and dishing out petty insults until the early hours of the morning. And she enjoyed it so much she would stay there until he and Joey got so sick of her that they would have to physically wrestle her out of the door, like the annoying little soccer hooligan she actually was. That was what she was really like! Perhaps they should all see what the cultured Dr Burke made of that!
But then he realized that Monica hadn't actually hung out with them like that in quite a while now, and he suddenly felt sad.
He stewed in pensive silence, eventually turning to Joey to hesitantly probe, "Mon's pretty different around Richard, huh?"
Despite the evening's awkwardness being entirely of his making, Joey was typically unbothered by any of it. He was still focused on the game, his eyes narrowing in concentration as he lined up his defenders for a robust spin, sending the ball flying back into Chandler's half of the table, before replying neutrally "Oh yeah. She's totally crazy about him, eh? I never saw her so loved up before."
But that wasn't what Chandler had meant.
Perhaps he ought to have raised his concerns with Monica at the time, but the fact that he was completely alone in querying Richard's suitability for her made him doubt it himself; and Joey was right: Monica was so darned smitten with the guy that any perceived negativity from Chandler would only have enraged her. So, he had swallowed down his mild reservations, and kept them to himself.
He regretted that now, of course. But hindsight is 20/20.
He watched Richard's fingers flex at the wheel as they swerved smoothly onto Bedford Street, and Chandler felt suddenly awash with nerves.
He tried to imagine how Monica was going to react when he foisted Richard upon her unexpectedly like this.
He felt sickened on her behalf, having to navigate what would inevitably be an emotionally traumatic conversation. And even when this part was over, it was only really the beginning. That's when reality would really kick in. Telling parents, and friends. Divorce lawyers. Dividing up assets.
He sighed hard through a wave of nausea.
Chandler knew only too well that the idea of Monica leaving her husband and taking up with him instead was going to raise a few eyebrows to say the least. In fact, he was pretty sure that Ross and the girls would most likely question Monica's sanity in the first instance, but he also knew that when they finally saw them together they would begin to understand.
Chandler might not fit that basic, un-nuanced picture of maturity Monica had always insisted she wanted, at least not in the way that Richard had seemed to, but with Chandler, she would never have to hide or compromise again.
He and Monica had truth and they had integrity; they embraced one another wholly, and they loved each other through every weakness and every flaw.
Together, they could be themselves; natural and honest to the core; and nothing Richard had ever been able to offer Monica could begin to compete with that.
Least of all a sparklingly clean Jaguar.
As they pulled up to the curb, Chandler side-eyed Richard's worn, tense face again. If he wasn't such a lying piece of scum, Chandler might actually have felt a little bit sorry for him for foolishly involving himself with a woman who was so completely and utterly wrong for him, and so thoroughly perfect for her best friend.
They made their way towards Chandler's building with a grim stomp, and Chandler held open the door to the lobby. Richard passed by him silently before the two of them ascended the staircase in stony-faced, single file.
It was only when Richard approached Apartment 19, all ready to march on through the door, that Chandler spoke firmly.
"Woah! What do you think you're doing? Wait out here. I need to warn Monica that you're here and check she wants to speak to you first."
"Check she wants to speak to me?" Richard spat incredulously, "You're the one who just dragged me all the way over here!"
He shook his head as he made another lunge for the door, muttering, "This is ridiculous. Who the hell are you to tell me when I'm allowed to speak to my own wife".
Chandler quickly inserted himself into the space between Richard and the door, placing a resolute palm on his shoulder.
"Hey! Wife or not, I'm not having you ambush her like that! And you can't just walk in here! This is my "teenage hellhole of an apartment", remember? So it's only me, "my little sidekick", and Monica, who get to decide who comes in here," Chandler told him, his flinty glare deadly serious, laced only with the occasional daring flicker of sarcasm, "You can wait out here while I find out if she's ready to see you. And if she's not, you'll just have to wait."
Richard's livid eyes blazed with outrage as they darted from Chandler's bullish face to the hand of restraint that remained solidly planted on the lapel of his jacket.
"Just give me one more reason to beat the crap out of you, Chandler." he warned in a growl.
Chandler's face betrayed not a whisker of intimidation, but he slowly removed his hand before slipping wordlessly into the apartment, closing the door behind him.
Tilly was at his feet in an instant, and her excited dash for the door must have alerted Monica to his arrival too, as she emerged from his bedroom with a weary smile.
"Hey Sweetie, I hope you don't mind but I re-organized your drawers so we could fit more of my stuff in. I really need to show you the most space-effective way to fold your sweaters - "
"Richard's here to see you" Chandler interrupted her as gently as he could, coming to stand in front of her and taking both of her hands in his.
"What?" Monica hissed, mouth agape.
"He's out in the hall." Chandler elaborated, before admitting softly, "Listen, when I helped Michelle with the stroller earlier she accidentally told me something ...about Richard. Something important. Something you really need to know".
It took Monica a moment to digest his words and she stared back blankly before worry began to cloud her features.
"What are you talking about? You're freaking me out here, Chandler !"
He gave a guilty swallow as her wide blue eyes frantically searched his face.
"I think Richard has to be the one to tell you this, Mon. You're probably gonna want some answers from him." She looked terrified and Chandler lifted her knuckles to his lips for a tender kiss, reassuring her, "But I'm gonna be here the whole time, alright? I'll wait in the bedroom. If you're OK with that".
Monica contemplated his words mutely, before managing a tentative whisper and a baffled shrug. "OK... I guess."
She released Chandler's fingers from her own and he was about to grudgingly grant Richard entry to the apartment, but before he could do so, Monica moved bravely and decisively towards the door, her eyes determined and full of questions. She paused to cast a final anxious glance towards her equally worried-looking boyfriend, before pushing open the door.
Tilly went crazy when she saw Richard, leaping joyfully around his legs and whining in delight. He tore his gaze from Monica's apprehensive face to return the dog's enthusiastic greeting, but Chandler wasted no time in calling the spaniel away.
"I'll just be in here," he affirmed, nodding a soft smile of encouragement towards Monica, then firing a look of thunderous warning at Richard.
Richard grimaced as he watched his treacherous little dog trot cheerfully to Chandler's feet with her tail wagging furiously, gluing herself to his heels and following him dutifully into the bedroom.
Richard's silence indicated that he was not going to be particularly forthcoming about whatever it was he had to say, so Monica readied herself to speak first.
She folded her arms tightly across her chest and shifted her weight uneasily from one leg to the other, raising her chin as confidently as she was able and asking abruptly "What's going on, Richard?"
"I could ask you the same question" Richard pointed out, his eyes dark and seething as they roved the room.
He had underestimated the effect being in this apartment would have on him.
Knowing what had been going on in here was nothing short of nauseating, and he could feel his pulse straining and his jaw twitching a little harder every time he noticed one of the various indicators that Monica and Tilly had been inhabiting the space: The bowl of water on the floor by the counter, the makeup bag on the arm of the lounger, a basket containing a small pile of clean, familiar laundry next to Chandler's bedroom door.
Seeing his wife's pink bra nestled comfortably amongst another man's socks and boxer shorts made Richard want to roar.
"Don't play games with me, alright?" Monica spoke calmly but the shake of her head was both nervous and impatient, "Chandler said you're here because you have something you need to tell me. What is it?"
Richard swallowed hard enough for Monica to see the shift in his throat as he sank onto one of the stools next to the counter. As he focused on her face the fury in his gaze dissipated and was replaced by potent anxiety. He took a deep breath and his eyes dropped shamefully to the floor.
Monica continued to examine him intently, curious and confused in equal measure as she watched him slowly nod, whilst seemingly garnering the courage to speak. Finally, he brought his somber grey eyes to meet her inquiring stare.
"I had a vasectomy. Back in the late seventies."
Monica's jaw slackened and she blinked back at him in catatonic stupor. Richard looked away.
When his words and their implications finally hit it was with the powerful jolt of a thunderbolt, and she felt a spasm in her chest that banished all traces of oxygen from her body. She made a desperate stumble for the sofa, her knees unpleasantly gelatinous, and close to collapse.
From the other side of the bedroom door, Chandler's face contorted in anguish, his eyes prickling, he could feel her shock and hurt manifesting as a sharp pain in his ribs.
"But I had it reversed, OK?' Richard explained hurriedly, flying across the room and kneeling in front of her.
He grabbed hold of her fingertips and squeezed tight as he dipped his head and made an unsuccessful attempt to meet her unseeing eyes. "I had it reversed as soon as I knew how much you wanted a baby: Before we got married! I swear!"
She extracted her hands from his and clasped her palms together, bringing them to her face.
"I wasn't tricking you, or lying to you. Not really. I had every intention of giving you a baby, Monica. That's why I had it reversed".
"How did you... I mean, surely I... When?" she managed to ask, through the bewildered chaos in her mind, "How did you manage to have an operation without telling me?"
He rose somewhat laboriously from his knees and sat next to her on the sofa. "Do you remember when I went on that golfing trip around Europe? It was right before that. It's a pretty straightforward, minor procedure, but obviously, you need a little time to fully recover, you're not supposed to have sex for a few weeks afterwards, so I had to come up with something - "
"That was right after we got engaged!"
Her eyes looked so wounded, he had to turn his head.
"Why didn't you just tell me?" her voice was suddenly high-pitched, "If you'd already decided you wanted to get it reversed? I don't understand why you felt the need to lie!"
"I wanted to tell you! I was going to tell you! I'd just assumed that I'd be able to get the reversal, and then after a few months we'd be good to go, you know? But then I spoke with the doctor, and she told me that because my vasectomy had been done such a long time ago, the chance of us getting pregnant would still be pretty low. 30%. After I found that out, I just... I didn't know how to tell you, Monica... I kept waiting for the right time...I was terrified of losing you".
"You think I would have left you because you couldn't have kids?"
Richard was astonished by her incredulity. "I know you would have! You'd already made it perfectly clear that kids were non-negotiable! That's why I had the reversal!"
"Oh my God! Not wanting to have children is completely different to not being able to have them, Richard! I would have been supportive! I would have tried to find another way! I would have done anything for you back then!"
She crumpled forward into her own lap and cradled her spinning head in her elbows, unable to form another word.
Richard placed a soft hand of intended comfort on the small of her back as he told her "I'm so sorry I didn't tell you. They said it can take up to a year for things to get back to normal after a reversal, so I suppose I just kept hoping... hoping things would happen, but then they didn't, and I guess I just stuck my head in the sand.
I was supposed to get check-ups, every few months, so they could check my sperm levels, but the longer things went on, the more scared I got that they would confirm that it hadn't worked, and that I would have to tell you how stupid I'd been... so I eventually just... stopped going. I ignored their letters and calls. Pretended it wasn't happening.
And I know how selfish that was, and how cowardly."
He caressed gentle circles over her back.
"And the worst thing of all is knowing how hard all of this has been for you. It killed me watching what it was doing to you. And you wanted to talk about it all the time, you kept asking about going to see a fertility doctor... it got to the point where I could hardly bring myself to look at you, I felt so guilty.
So, I completely understand how we've ended up where we are, I know you must have felt neglected and unsupported, and I know I pushed you towards him.
I don't blame you for any of it, Monica. I forgive you. I just want us to move forward - "
As he spoke these words, that hand on her back might as well have been a venomous snake, and Monica leapt to her feet like its fangs had pierced her flesh.
"You forgive me?" she spun around aghast, and gaped right at him. "You let me try to have a baby with you, knowing you were unable to have one for over a year Richard! You watched me slowly fall apart and you didn't say a word!"
He ignored the distressed half scoff half sob that erupted from her throat.
"No! That's not true. I didn't know I couldn't have one! Not for sure. I kept hoping my sperm levels would recover over time ..." he refuted, his voice infuriatingly even, "Look, we've both done things we're not proud of Monica. But the important thing is we can face it all together now! I've been back to my doctor, and I'm going to try the reversal again. And if it doesn't work this time, she said we could try testicular sperm extraction, or - "
"Can you actually hear yourself?" Monica demanded, swiping an angry sleeve across her face to absorb a red hot tear that threatened to escape from her brimming eyes.
"Richard, I've been having an affair! And you've been lying to me for our entire marriage! In what crazy parallel universe do you think we're coming back from that? I mean, this whole situation is just... it's toxic!"
An affair. Though he already knew it to be true, it was the first time she had actually spoken the words, and Richard found himself engulfed in a burning wave of dismay.
He leapt to his feet and his eyes were suddenly frenetic as he clutched her by the elbows, "Of course we can come back from it! We have to! I'm not giving up on us, Monica! We're meant to be together and I'm not going to lose you. Not to him! No way!"
Chandler's fingers gripped harder on the door handle, and moistened his lips nervously. The crescendo of the voices in the living room caused his own heart to thud louder in his chest, as he began to wonder if they had reached a point where Monica might appreciate his intervention.
She sounded calmer when she next spoke so he stayed rooted to the spot, locking eyes with Tilly who was curled up on the bed, her eyebrows arched with worry.
"I'm not yours to lose", Monica told Richard firmly, jerking her arms from his grasp and working hard to settle her uneven breath as she stepped briskly away.
"We can get past this. Everything is out in the open now. We can start again." Richard's eyes glistened and pleaded, following her from a distance, as she moved towards the kitchen and steadied herself against the countertop.
"I don't want to get past it. And I don't want to start again" Monica looked him dead in the eye, her tone suddenly close to gentle, laced with apology even, "I'm happy. Happier than I've ever been. Or at least I will be."
Richard gave a vehemently dismissive shake of his head "No. You don't mean that. All of the infertility stuff, it just confused you, that's all! And Chandler took advantage of that. You don't love him, Monica. You might think you do, but you don't. Not like you love me. You just said it yourself: You would have done anything for me..."
Chandler fists tightened into white-knuckled balls as he rested his forehead against the solidity of the door.
Monica took a deeply pensive sigh before speaking again. "I do love him" she confirmed softly, "And we want to be together".
On the other side of the door, Chandler felt his hands and shoulders relax, but a wrench of yearning took him by storm: Every last bit of him aching to draw her near.
"I can't lose you..."
Richard continued to shake his head and began to pace, his blazing eyes darting unconsciously towards Chandler's bedroom door, but Monica remained still and composed.
"Richard, since you set foot in this apartment today, not once have you told me that you miss me, or that you can't live without me. All I've heard is that you don't want your marriage to fail, and that you don't want to lose me to another man. That's not love! That's possession."
"Now you're just being ridiculous!" he rejected, "Of course I love you! For God's sake, Monica! You're twisting everything I'm saying - "
The searing initial pain provoked by the considerable shock of Richard's confession had eased a little, and what remained in its place was an immense feeling of clarity; Monica's mind felt as still and open as a cloudless sky after a storm, and she was not going to be swayed or spoken over.
"You don't love me, Richard," she insisted with serene simplicity, "And I'm not saying this to hurt you, or because I want you to prove me wrong, I'm saying it because it's true.
You don't love me, and I don't think you ever did.
Not really.
You just loved the idea of me. Like I loved the idea of you."
He stared back at her dumbly for a while, and she thought that might be it: that he would leave, subdued and resigned.
But another flare of angry disbelief flared in Richard's gut.
"And do you love the idea of this?" he demanded, gesticulating furiously as his spiteful eyes took in their surroundings once again, "Foosball? Darts? Stuffed penguins? Come on, Monica! Look at this place! Look at him! He's an overgrown kid himself! Do you really think he's going to offer you the things you want? You think he's going to give you a family?"
A glimmer of triumph lit up Richard's eyes when Monica folded her arms and took a defensive stance.
"This isn't getting us anywhere", she told him coolly.
"You know I'm right!"
Chandler could hear the confidence in Richard's smirk and it made his teeth grind together so hard he thought they might crack.
"Dr Palmer said they could most likely schedule my second reversal for early January. By next Christmas you and I could be getting the nursery ready and taking Lamaze classes. I'm committed to this, Monica. I'm committed to you, and to our family. Just think about it".
In Chandler's head, her blue eyes grew rounder and softer; her bottom lip dropped open pensively as her long held, desperate yearning for a baby surged through her heart. He imagined her hand drifting towards her belly as Richard's words evoked beautiful visions of her body blooming with new life.
But then she spoke.
"You're insane. We're done here: you should go".
The fortitude in her voice was so at odds with the mesmerized face he had conjured up in his mind, it caused Chandler's body to jolt.
"You're upset, and I get it. But I'm not going anywhere until you've opened your mind to the bigger picture here, Monica." Richard gave a stubborn shake of his head.
Chandler could not hold back any longer and burst through the door.
"I'm pretty sure Monica just asked you to go".
Richard's eyes bore into him immediately; narrow and unblinking.
"You should go", Monica repeated steadily.
He tore his simmering gaze from Chandler, and scrutinized his wife's face instead, before nodding his grudging defeat and withdrawing from the apartment without another word.
As the door clicked closed, Chandler sighed in relief, but he was unable to believe this was anything more than a temporary reprieve: Something about Richard's retreat felt like the end of a battle, not a war.
Monica just looked stunned.
Tilly had followed Chandler from the bedroom and was weaving her way sheepishly around Monica's feet, her tail between her legs, as though she somehow believed herself to be culpable for this epic fallout.
Monica scooped her up into her arms and kissed the top of her head. The dog's eyes revealed immediate comfort but Monica's remained vacant and glazed.
Chandler wrapped them both in his arms, undeterred by Tilly's pink tongue lashing at his chin.
"Oh my God, Monica. Are you OK?" He could feel her shock, the tremble of her flesh, and he cradled her head protectively in his hand, his lips lingering against her hair.
"I've no idea" she told him honestly, pulling briefly away to set the wriggling dog down on the floor and then melting wholly into his embrace. "I just can't believe it."
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you what Michelle said." he explained with a contrite squeeze of his arms, "She said it, then she started to backtrack, and I didn't want to say anything without being sure if it was true".
"It's not your fault. Doesn't matter," she murmured into the soft warmth of his neck. There were so many thoughts and emotions whirring around her mind that she felt like she really wanted to say more but her absolute shell-shock left her lost for words.
She clung to him tighter and took deep cleansing breaths as they stood, entwined and quiet, Chandler stroking her hair and her back, and rocking her ever so gently, for what felt like an eternity, but still wasn't long enough.
"You feel cold. Can I run you a bath?" Chandler eventually offered, concerned by the continuing shivers that in reality he knew had nothing to do with the temperature. "I have bubbles? And wine?"
"Yes please". Monica's tiny smile was soft but conflicted; His suggestion sounded just about perfect, and yet she was unwilling to depart from the soothing comfort of his hug, "Just one more minute..."
But the universe was unwilling to grant her that minute.
A cursory knock preceded the opening of the door, and Tilly made a frantic dash to greet a worried looking Ross.
The anguished look Monica threw Chandler spoke of total and utter exhaustion and disbelief, and she threw herself onto the sofa with a weary thud.
"Are you guys OK?" Ross approached his sister with a face full of concern, "I just saw Richard out on the street. He looked awful! He didn't even speak to he saw me he just got in his car and took off like a bat out of hell! What's going on? Have you guys had a fight?"
Monica rubbed her palm across her face and then raked her fingers through her hair before meeting her brother's gaze with lethargic eyes and a heavy sigh, completely unprepared to face this next phase of brutal honesty, but knowing there was no backing out of it now.
"Yeah. Something like that."