A/N Second update in a matter of days because I didn't want to leave everybody wondering what the hell is going on for too long!
I can't quite believe this story is finally at an end! Thanks so much to everybody who has stuck with it.
Chandler paused outside of the mahogany varnished door of Richard's apartment, not wanting to knock. His mind was churning, unsuccessfully hunting for an alternative way around all of this. Preferably, a way that involved him passively waiting, Monica finding him and telling him all of this was all one big silly misunderstanding, and everything going back to normal, but that seemed unlikely.
He wondered how many times he had stood in this precise spot over the past few months, his mind drifting back to those chaste but spine-tingling liaisons in the weeks that followed her accident; how he would spend ages out here, patiently waiting for her to hobble to the door on her crutches to the soundtrack of Tilly's incessant yapping, his stomach alive with butterflies in anticipation of seeing his own illicit excitement reflected in her beautiful smile.
His lips twitched as he recollected the way their greetings evolved over the weeks, from those breathless coy grins and timid pecks on the cheek when he had started helping her with dog walking duties, to the pulse-racing, forbidden embraces that ultimately left them so fevered with visceral need, that they were unable to make it even as far as the sofa fully-clothed.
He hadn't thought he'd have to call for her here again. Especially not feeling like this.
Adrenaline flared his nostrils and he took a deep breath as he took the plunge and hammered avidly on the door, using the length of his forearm as well as his tight fist.
The aggression in that knock probably gave Richard a clue as to who might be there, and his welcome was duly apathetic.
"Chandler. What a pleasant surprise" he said dryly.
As soon as he clapped eyes on him, Chandler could tell that Richard knew more than he did about what was going on with Monica. It was right there in his face and in his voice. Smugness. Even more than usual. The last time the two men had locked horns Chandler had held all of the cards, but this time Richard clearly felt like he had the upper hand, and he intended to make the most of it.
Nausea clenched deep in his belly but Chandler shook it off. He had more on his mind than masculine pride, and he was in no mood for games, so he pushed past Richard and strutted right into the apartment.
"Where is she?"
"She's not here. And do come in" Richard gave a laconic smirk as he calmly closed the door.
The apartment was quiet but for the faint drone of a radio talk show that emanated from the kitchen. The air smelled strongly of garlic, indicating that a meal had recently been cooked, but when Chandler peered through the kitchen door, there was nobody there. A lonely, tomato-streaked bowl and fork had been abandoned on the counter top, suggesting that Richard had been eating alone.
Tentative relief began to relax Chandler's lungs. Sure, he might look like a bit of a paranoid fool, turning up on Richard's doorstep, bursting into his apartment and making demands; and he still had no clue what this Los Angeles job offer was all about; but at least he hadn't found Monica here, eating a cosy spaghetti dinner and getting reacquainted with her ex. He wasn't sure if that was what he had expected to find or not: he was so confused, expectation felt like an alien concept to him right now.
She wasn't here. His mind scrambled to come up with some sort of clever, sarcastic remark that might help him save at least a little face before making a hasty retreat, but then his eyes landed on the coffee table.
Two half-consumed crystal tumblers of what appeared to be scotch; one neat, one paled by melted ice.
His heart sank into the depths of his gut at the sight of them.
He took a step closer and inspected the paler glass more thoroughly, confirming that it was indeed Monica's drink of choice, then challenged Richard hotly, "Scotch on the rocks? With a twist? On a coaster? Where is she?"
He moved instinctively towards the doorway that led to the bedroom, his eyes roaming every square foot of space he could see.
"She was here." Richard confirmed evenly. "But she left. Hours ago."
He suddenly seemed to realize that his words almost sounded comforting; and comfort was the last thing Richard wanted to offer Chandler, so to be clear that he had neither forgiven, nor forgotten, he added bitterly, "I probably should have cleared the glasses away already, but since you stole my wife from me, I can be a little more relaxed about tidiness. There are some perks to living alone, I guess".
He grimaced and folded his arms across his chest, observing the younger man with cool, calculating eyes.
"Where did she go?" Chandler demanded, ignoring the acidic rebuke, "And why was she round here drinking with you anyway? What the hell have you done, Richard? What have you been saying to her?"
He could not keep the crack of distress from his voice, and that caused Richard's lips to form a self-satisfied arc beneath his mustache.
"She was upset. She came round here to call a cab, I fixed her a drink because she looked like she needed one. Then her cab arrived, and she left. That's it." Richard shrugged, his cool, neutral expression disguising the vengeful thrill he was deriving from Chandler's obvious anguish and doubt.
"Why was she upset? What did you do?" Chandler took an angry step forward; the effort it was taking not to take a frustrated lunge at Richard was clearly visible on his increasingly crimson face.
Richard scoffed. "Oh, please. I didn't do anything. I was trying to help her. She might be an adulteress, but I wasn't going to leave her crying out in the street was I? I'm not a monster."
The more he spoke, the more he began to comprehend just how entirely in the dark Chandler was. A flash of vindictiveness enlivened his eyes, but he spoke just as nonchalantly as before.
"You know, I'm surprised she hasn't spoken with you about all of this." He shook his head in what was clearly mock bafflement, "What with you two being so madly in love, and all. I would have thought you would be the first person she turned to. What was it you said to me last week?... "She tells me everything. Always has." "
Chandler's eyes burned, and Richard raised his eyebrows as he smirked "Don't tell me this grand love affair of yours is falling apart at the seams already? I mean, I always knew it wouldn't last of course, but I thought you would have made it to February at least... I might have even said March."
Chandler expelled air from his nostrils with all of the livid vigor of a bull being provoked by a matador, but Richard continued to enjoy himself, cultivating a pretense of sympathy.
"Look, I can see why you're upset. I can empathize. I mean, Monica can be a very secretive woman: I learned that the hard way myself, didn't I?"
"Just tell me where she is." Chandler growled through clenched teeth, punctuating every word.
Richard tapped his lip with a supposedly pensive index finger.
"I don't think I should do that," he said, "If Monica wanted you to know where she was going, she would have told you herself, wouldn't she? It's not really my place to tell you."
He lowered himself slowly into his armchair, occupying the seat in a grandiose fashion, extending both arms along the armrests and spreading his legs wide. "I'm not the kind of man to involve himself in somebody else's relationship..."
Chandler looked down at that smug, embittered face and shook his head. "You're pathetic, d'you know that? I don't have time for this."
He strode towards the door.
"You go get her, Chandler!" Richard sneered, "If you manage to find her, that is!"
Chandler already had his hand on the latch and he turned slowly back, looking Richard dead in the eye.
"I don't need to find her" he said, with a lot more confidence that he actually felt, "She'll find me. She always does."
Chandler might not have fully believed what he was saying, but the way Richard's eyes flickered as he fell silent implied that he did.
"Enjoy your bachelor pad, Richard".
As he walked out of the door Chandler held his head up high, but inside he was sinking; drowning in a torrid pool of fear and bewilderment.
As he stepped out into the street he fell back against the wall of the building and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger as he tried to refocus his eyes and steel his ragged breath.
By the time he arrived on Bedford Street Chandler was still so worried and confused he felt nauseous, but a whole host of other emotions had shaped and solidified within him too.
Hurt.
Anger.
Disappointment.
He should have known this would happen.
When something feels too good to be true, it usually is: He couldn't remember if it was his mother or his father who told him that. A rare nugget of sage advice either way.
He had always known that starting a relationship with a close friend was perilous; he only had to remember all that had happened between Ross and Rachel to qualify that, and really, he and Monica had shared a tighter existing platonic bond than those two ever had.
The idea that some catastrophic break up might ruin one of his most treasured friendships, and potentially eject one of the people that meant the most to him from his life had always felt terrifying, and that was probably why he had always been so careful when it came to deftly nipping in the bud any rogue romantic inclinations towards Monica that might have surfaced in the past, but his fear of a failed relationship had always come from his inability to trust himself, not her.
He had never struggled to trust Monica. She was his best friend: he had never believed her capable of causing him pain. Certainly not through carelessness and lack of communication. Certainly not like this.
Every time he had worried about their relationship turning sour, he had always imagined the blame settled firmly at his own feet: He would have a freak out and do something stupid; He would fail to commit; He would crack under pressure and push her away.
Not once had he foreseen this.
For years, she had been one of the most steady and stable influences in his life; how could he ever have imagined that she would be the one to stop being honest with him and plan to run away? After everything they had been through; and everything they had said.
When he thought back to their conversation on New Year's Eve it very nearly made him double over in agony. He had never even dared to dream those kinds of dreams of the future before, let alone reveal them to another human being.
In all of his previous relationships, his reticence had been his protection. It hadn't mattered so very much if a woman had ultimately rejected him, because he had never given her very much of himself to reject. But with Monica he had really let go. He might as well have ripped open his chest and shown her his heart.
And now, it seemed like that wasn't enough.
He still wasn't enough.
He just couldn't figure it out.
The things she had said to him last week, this morning even: The endless proclamations of everlasting love; the way she made love to him; cherishing him; making him feel like he was the most important thing in her world. It had all felt so real, so genuine.
Had that just been her way of saying goodbye?
He wanted to understand.
More than anything.
But he wasn't going to beg.
Chandler was tired. Tired of begging to be cared for and understood. He had spent his whole childhood being ignored; overshadowed by the romantic dramas of his parents and their various lovers; left in a boarding school to be forgotten about; wishing on a star that somebody would just love him, like he saw other kids be loved.
He might be a fully grown man now, but it had taken him this long to truly believe he had found what he had been searching for all his life; that he had finally found a love that was patient and safe and resilient; a love that he would work hard at only because he wanted to nourish it, not because he was desperately trying to hold on to it as it struggled from his grasp and ran away.
As he entered the lobby, Joey was galloping down the stairs with wide knees, zipping up his jacket as he went, his keys still jangling in his hand.
"Oh, hey! You're back! I was just gonna see if I could find you! Listen, Ross spoke to Rachel; Monica's over at her place."
Joey expected Chandler to be relieved, and he was.
His rib cage felt immediately lighter as he expelled his concern for Monica's immediate safety with a long slow sigh, his eyelids adrift.
But as his worry subsided, all of those other awful feelings stubbornly remained, turning his stomach and paining his heart.
"Well it's great that she has so many people to turn to. I guess this means I rank below Richard and Rachel."
Joey regarded him ruefully, and mitigated, "Come on man, Rachel said Mon's really upset. I don't know what's happened, I don't think Rachel does either, but I'm guessing she's just not thinking straight."
Chandler returned a thoughtful nod then began to trudge up the stairs.
"Aren't you going to head round there and see her?" Joey sounded surprised.
"No." Chandler said, dejected but definite, "She's upset, and instead of talking to me about it, she talked to Richard. Richard, Joey. And she made plans to run away to Los Angeles. I can take a hint".
His hurt echoed around the stairwell and Joey gave a worried frown before following him silently up the stairs.
"If she decides she wants to tell me what the hell this is all about, she knows where I am, doesn't she." Chandler concluded philosophically, his heart dragging like lead in his chest.
He made straight for his room and threw himself back on the bed, trying not to notice her neatly folded, lilac-colored vest on the pillow beside him; the one she had slept in last night; hating that just looking at it caused pangs in his chest. He rolled over onto his side with a sigh.
He had not been there for all that long when he heard footsteps approaching his door, he waited to hear Joey's voice, but nobody spoke.
The door creaked open and he knew it was her. He could feel her there before he even turned.
He sat up and looked at her. He had never seen her look so forlorn. Her skin seemed to have transformed from porcelain to ash, her lips were pale too, and the smudged mascara around her mournful blue eyes looked like bruises. His response to seeing her there was frustratingly Pavlovian; his stupid heart leaping and skipping about in his chest like a spring lamb. A lamb headed for slaughter, he grimly thought.
The air felt heavy as they stared at one another, and Monica looked like she might just burst into tears before either one of them had a chance to speak a word.
"Oh hey, you're back," His voice was on the frosty side of casual, so false and sarcastic that, unpleasantly, he almost reminded himself a little of Richard, but he was so angry he just couldn't stop, "So, Los Angeles huh? You know, it's always nice when you tell somebody that you want a future with them, and they respond by plotting a secret move to the other side of the country. Really makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Thank you for that! Are you here to pack?"
Her face crumpled and a sob escaped her throat.
"Chandler, I'm so sorry. I know I shouldn't have disappeared all day without telling you, but my head's a total mess! I can't... I can't even think straight!"
"Joey said you'd say that." he responded curtly, "So anyway, Los Angeles?"
"I'm not going to Los Angeles. I wasn't going to run away without telling you." she beseeched, "When I spoke to Jade she just mentioned that they were recruiting in LA as well as in New York, and over the past week, I've been feeling so panicked and confused about what the hell I'm going to do... I admit it...disappearing to Los Angeles sounded... appealing. But only for like, a second. I would never leave without telling you".
"But you would leave" he concluded, swallowing a painful lump in his throat.
She whimpered and her chin dropped to her chest. Her lack of denial cut through him like a blade. His hand shook as he rubbed his face.
"What about Richard? What did he make of the LA plan?" he demanded bitterly.
"He doesn't know anything about it." she whispered.
"No? Didn't come up during cocktail hour?"
She sniffed and wiped at her bloodshot eyes with the back of her knuckles before telling him. "I only went round there to use the phone. I had some really bad news today and... I just didn't know what to do! I didn't know where to go!"
Her voice wobbled with distress but Chandler was incensed.
"To me!" he yelled in exasperation, his hands clawing at his hair "You go to me, Monica! My God!"
Chandler did not often raise his voice and this incandescent outburst of pure frustration made her flinch.
"What news can you possibly have received that would make you want to turn to Richard over me?" he spoke more quietly now, his eyes full of pain, hurt overshadowing his rage, "I just don't get it, Monica! What happened to us in the space of a week? What was it? The big conversation about marriage and babies put you off? The reality of a future with me sank in and you suddenly realized you'd made a mistake?"
She gave a teary mewl and shook her head as he threw injured question after injured question at her, not waiting for answers in between.
"Did you ever mean a single word you said to me? Or was I just an escape route out of your dry marriage?"
"Of course I meant it! I meant all of it! I love you!"
"Then tell me, Monica! Tell me what the hell is going on!"
She scrunched her already distraught face and clasped it in her hands, her knuckles paling with self-punishment as she gripped hard at her own hair and skin.
"I had an appointment today, and they gave me some bad news. News I've been dreading all week." she blinked back fresh tears.
"I wanted to come straight to you, I swear I did, more than anything. You were the only person I wanted to see. But I just didn't know how to tell you." Another heart-wrenching cry spilled from her lips. "I still don't know how to tell you."
Chilling fingers of fear began to turn Chandler's anger to ice, as the word "appointment" provoked thoughts of doctors and disease that began to swirl in his mind. Thoughts he was still young enough not to have considered so far.
"You're scaring me" he surprised himself by speaking the words out loud. He hadn't meant to.
She sat down next to him and looked right at him, pain and sadness pouring from her eyes.
"Richard called me on New Year's Eve. He said he had something important to tell me, and he asked me to meet him at the practice. I thought he was going to try to take Tilly.."
Monica's sob seemed to suggest that a fight over the dog would have been the preferable option, and knowing how very much Tilly meant to her, that in itself made Chandler's stomach tilt.
"But when I got there, he told me that his fertility doctor had called him to let him know that a second vasectomy reversal was unnecessary," she said, her breathing rate becoming faster; panicked and irregular, "Because the one he had before we got married worked just fine."
She brushed a swell of fat tears from her cheeks.
"The test results he had gotten back showed that his sperm count was pretty much normal. Richard's good to go!" The tears that soaked her cheeks and lips tasted even more bitter as she described what felt like the cruelest injustice.
"He told me that Dr Palmer had offered me an appointment too, to find out what was going on; I guess Richard didn't tell her that we'd broken up. But anyway, I took the appointment; I just had to know for sure."
She pressed her eyes closed, her eyelashes forming damp clumps against her cheekbones.
"I went to find out the results today. I went alone; I didn't even know Richard was going to be there, he just showed up and waited outside. But they confirmed it, Chandler. Richard wasn't the reason we couldn't conceive. It was me all along".
She didn't bother to wipe the rivulet of tears that began to crisscross her face this time, there were too many. Chandler felt his own face collapse.
"I'm so sorry" she whispered.
He felt like somebody had stamped viciously on his chest and then pressed their foot down hard on his throat; forcing every bit of air from his body and rendering him incapable of gasping in more. His whole being seemed to have gone into pause mode; his head and heart struggling to catch up with what he had just learned.
"I'm sorry too" he whispered back, meaning it more than he had ever meant anything. "I'm so sorry, Mon. Come here."
He opened his arms.
Was he still hurt and disappointed and angry? He wasn't really sure. Maybe he was. But it didn't matter right now. This was all that mattered.
Monica slumped desperately against his chest, as limp as a ragdoll, and he enveloped her in a fierce embrace. She hadn't quite realized how much effort she had been putting into not falling to pieces until now, but as he held her with a solidity that cosseted her from the rest of the world, it felt like permission to fall.
So she let go and she fell.
And he caught her.
They would always catch each other.
Everybody and everything vanished. She cried into his shirt for what might have been an hour, or might have been two; silent, open-mouthed sobs that made the muscles in her cheeks cramp up and her limbs feel numb; drenching him in tears and grief. Chandler held on tight and grieved right there with her, without saying a word.
When she had no more tears to cry, he stroked her hair, and massaged circles over her back until the violent hitches in her lungs ceased. She didn't fall asleep, but she eventually reached some kind of state of calm, dormant devastation. After a while, Chandler left her briefly alone, returning quickly with cool water and hot, sweet tea, which he placed on the bedside table before perching solemnly on the end of the bed. When she eventually sat up to take a sip and soothe her raw, dry throat he asked delicately, "So what did the doctor actually say?"
"Apparently, I have an inhospitable uterus" she told him, her eyes listless, "Imagine that, huh? Me. The hostess with the mostest."
She spoke without mirth and tried not to notice the distraught furrow that formed in Chandler's brow.
"It's not completely impossible for me to get pregnant... but Dr Palmer said it was incredibly unlikely that I would ever conceive naturally, and that if I want to start a family, I should start thinking about alternative paths."
She shook her head and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "All those times I suggested seeing a fertility doctor and Richard refused because he was so convinced he was the problem. I still can't believe it."
Chandler shifted closer and placed his hand over hers, the unfairness of it all made him want to scream.
Her chin trembled a little and her eyes stung with moisture she would have thought had been completely expended, as she looked up at him and told him timidly, "So you see, I'm not exactly the ideal candidate to give you those four babies you want..."
He studied her face with wounded disbelief.
"Monica, you can't possibly think that this would affect the way I feel about you, or about our future."
She shook her head and regarded him with soft eyes.
"No, I don't think that. I know you. I know how wonderful, and kind, and trustworthy and genuine you are. I know that you love me, and I love you too. So much", she stroked tender fingers down his cheek, "I know exactly what you're going to say. You're going to tell me that this doesn't matter, that you'll love me whether we have a baby or not. That we'll try to find a way. And when you say it, you'll mean it".
His lips parted in confusion: He felt like he ought to be arguing her words, but he couldn't, because they were all true.
"But I know how it feels to keep trying and failing, Chandler. And I don't want that for you. You told me honestly what it was you wanted, and you deserve all of those things. You deserve to teach your big tribe of kids to ride their bikes in your huge back yard. I've seen you with Ben, you're going to make the most wonderful father. You don't deserve years of failed pregnancy tests, and financially crippling fertility treatment, and waiting desperately on adoption agencies. You'll resent me, eventually. You might not think it now, but you will".
She closed her eyes shamefully "So, I guess that's why I considered LA."
Chandler exhaled loudly and shook his head, as if trying to stay patient.
"So when you asked me all of those questions on New Year's Eve..."
"I had to know what you really wanted, Chandler. I don't want to trap you in a relationship that is going to bring you pain! I can't do to you what Richard did to me".
He looked deep into her eyes and she could feel his hurt and his disappointment. He looked every bit as exhausted as she felt. But there was fire there too.
"What you're doing to me, is exactly what Richard did to you."
His clearly and gravely spoken accusation hit her in the face, stinging like a sharp slap.
She spluttered a little, completely blindsided by his words, finally managing to reply, "What? No! Richard lied to me!"
"No. Richard told you just the parts he thought you needed to hear. That's how he deceived you, and that's what you did to me last week. You tricked me. You asked me to be honest about something, without giving me all of the available information, and then you used my answer to decide how I should feel about the truth. You're trying to make my decisions for me, Monica! You're taking away my choice! Just like Richard did to you".
"I never set out to trick you!" she cried, "There was nothing selfish about what I did! I just wanted to know what you really want! I had to know if I could give it to you! And it looks like I can't! And that hurts more than anything else has ever hurt before!"
He squeezed his eyes closed as he gulped back tears, and then he took her hands gently in his.
"Mon, what you have to realize, is that me and you are not the same, alright? All of those things I told you that I saw in our future, I wasn't lying about them, but they're just things that have popped into my head a few times over the past few weeks, not things I've been desperately yearning for for years. I wasn't thinking about them when I was with Janice, or with Kathy. If it wasn't for you I wouldn't have even thought about them at all. I want those things because of you. You made me want them."
He shook his head thoughtfully, as he struggled to explain.
"You asked me if I see a family in our future, and yes, I do, but the only part of that family I can see clearly is you. The rest of it's all..fuzzy... and subject to change. I don't care how many kids we have, or how we have them. I don't care where we live. We talked about the Paris plan too, remember? I was just as excited about that. Any future with you is exciting to me. All I care about is you and me; together. The rest of it we can figure out as we go along. That's the truth."
She wanted to believe him so hard that she couldn't breathe.
"So look, if there are fertility treatments that might work, we'll make that happen. If you want to look at surrogacy, or adoption? Fine, we can do that instead."
He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and rested his head on hers.
"As long as I'm with you, that's good enough for me. Even if you decide you want us to quit our jobs, and live in a cabin in the woods, foraging for food, with twelve dobermans for company".
She buried her face in his neck and wrapped him up in her arms, never wanting to let him go.
"I mean it, Monica. We'll have our family, because you already are my family. We'll find a way through this, and we'll be happy."
"Do you promise, that's really what you want?"
"I promise" he murmured softly into her hair before pulling away slightly and adding "Apart from the bit about the dobermans. That was just a whole lot of big talk."
A small, sad laugh was music to his ears.
"That's alright," she replied with a sniff, "I don't think Tilly would go for that either."
He was quiet for a moment before seeking some reassurance of his own.
"What about you? Do you promise not to shut me out? Do you promise to talk to me? And be honest with me?" he asked seriously.
"I promise" she said, the bone-crunching strength of her squeeze adding gravitas to her words.
Chandler left work in a hurry on Valentine's Day. It wasn't everybody else's Valentine's Day, just theirs. As always, Monica had to spend February 14th in the restaurant, whipping up culinary magic to create the perfect romantic ambience for other couples, something that she had found a little depressing in the past, but this year, she was enjoying her new job so much that she hadn't felt too much resentment, especially when Chandler pointed out that the two of them being out of sync with the rest of the world, and having their own, secret celebration of love, was actually pretty romantic in itself.
There were practical benefits that came from celebrating a week after everybody else too; impressive flowers and tables in fancy restaurants were in far more plentiful supply than they had been a week ago, and Chandler had managed to secure dinner reservations at a place he knew Monica held in incredibly high esteem, so he was looking forward to surprising her.
The protective cellophane around the huge bouquet of pale pink lilies he had picked up from the florist rustled as he ascended the stairwell, two stairs at a time. Their table was at 8:00 pm and he wanted to make sure he had time to get showered and changed.
When he burst through the door Monica was standing at the counter, talking on the phone. She was not long out of the shower herself, her skin looked fresh and pink, her hair hung in damp waves that dripped onto her shoulders, creating dark wet patches on her navy blue satin robe. Her face was serious, but when she looked up and saw him, and the spectacular bunch of blooms he was holding, a wide beam spread across her lips and her nose crinkled in delight.
She held the phone away from her ear for long enough to beckon him over for a lingering kiss. Her tongue darted sexily between his lips before she pulled away and as she brought the phone back to her ear she fired him one of those flirtatious smirks that set him immediately aflame.
He dropped the bouquet on the countertop and nuzzled her neck with fiery breath, gliding his hands down the smooth fabric of her robe, squeezing firmly when they landed on her buttocks. She let out a little squeal of surprise and pushed him away, holding up a playfully scolding hand, urging him to show restraint while she finished up her conversation.
"No, I didn't say anything, I just sneezed" she lied, firing Chandler a playful look of reprimand when the caller questioned the squeal, amusement tugging at her lips.
Chandler retreated with a smirk, and began to rummage through the fridge for a can of soda, vaguely listening to the remainder of Monica's half of the conversation.
"Yes, that's fine".
"Yes, I understand that".
She sighed and rolled her eyes with exasperation.
"I know!"
"Look, I really don't care."
Chandler frowned and then arched an eyebrow as he cracked open his drink. She had been speaking so officiously that he had initially assumed that she was talking to someone from work, but her manner was so abrupt that he suddenly doubted it.
"OK then! Bye." she gave an impatient tut as she hung up the phone.
"Ugh. Richard." She told Chandler with a grimace.
"What did he want?" the mere mention of the guy's name brought annoyance to Chandler's voice.
"He just had a meeting with his divorce lawyer. He said he'll sign Tilly over to me, but only if I take complete responsibility for the breakdown of our marriage."
Chandler shook his head angrily. "What the hell! Shouldn't this be coming via his lawyer now anyway? What did you say?"
Monica gave a blasé grin and a shrug "Fine by me! Best Valentine's gift he ever got me! I get my dog and a quick divorce".
She threw her arms around his neck as she added in a husky whisper, "And best of all, I get you".
She kissed him again, and this time she allowed his hands to roam her scantily clad form without objection, humming languidly into his mouth as she pushed her hands beneath his shirt and skimmed her nails down his back.
She rolled her eyes in frustration when Chandler drew back, still distracted by his ire.
"I just don't believe that guy! Trying to act all blameless after what he did!"
Monica nudged his chin towards her and kissed the tip of his nose.
"He just wants a reaction, Chandler. He wants to drag it all out and piss us off, because that's all he has left. That's how sad he is! You should have heard how disappointed he was when I just agreed to take the blame, he thought he was being so smart! He's got nothing."
It did sound good when she put it like that.
"Well, as long as you're OK with it, I guess" Chandler sounded a little less disgruntled.
"I am" she assured him gently, "The faster this divorce goes through, the better. Richard's not our problem anymore."
Chandler looked thoughtful and then conceded, "Yeah you're right. We shouldn't be thinking about him. Especially not on Fake Valentine's Day".
She brought her lips to his with a deepening kiss, not bothering to tighten the robe that had fallen open against his chest, and smirking when she saw his eyes drop lustfully to her freshly exposed skin.
"Do you fancy taking a Fake Valentine's Day shower?" His suggestion was practically a growl.
"I already had one" she pointed out earnestly, but she quickly extinguished the resulting disappointment in his eyes by capturing his earlobe between her teeth, "But I guess I could take another. I hear Fake Valentine's Day can get pretty dirty."
Chandler grinned excitedly, hastily removing his tie and casting off his jacket.
"We've still got that champagne in the fridge, shall we pop that open too?"
The shadow that passed over Monica's face would have been indiscernible to anybody else, but Chandler immediately knew that the scantest hint of a reminder of New Year's Eve had provoked a twinge of pain.
He tenderly stroked her cheek as she smiled through it and forced her mind quickly back to the here and now.
She kissed him again, and began to work on the buttons of his shirt.
"Sounds like a plan".
June had only just begun and New York was in the grip of a heatwave that had taken everybody by surprise. The grass in the park was already parched; the lush greens of May drying out to yellowish-brown; and the sidewalks radiated a searing, blurry heat. Wide brimmed hats were suddenly everywhere, and everybody seemed to be clutching cold cups of iced tea. Everything felt slower somehow; lethargic; the energy of an entire city sapped by the blazing sun.
Even Tilly was reluctant to move, and had taken to lying flat on the cool bathroom floor whenever the door was left open.
Earlier that week, Joey had burst into the coffee house, sweaty and beet-red, his eyes full of the kind of dramatic distress that would not have looked out of place in a disaster movie, as he had declared that they should all get out of the city before the heat finished them off.
Despite his theatrics, the rest of the group had concurred, and Ross had suggested a weekend at the Geller family beach house. Everyone had enthusiastically agreed, keenly scrambling to reschedule plans, get out of work and find a dog-sitter.
Ross was bringing Ben along too, so the group took two cars, boys in one, girls in the other, a divide that Chandler quickly decided he would fight hard to change when it came to the return journey, after spending an arduous and clammy couple of hours listening to Joey and Ross's incessant bickering over who should take credit for the idea of a weekend away.
Whoever's idea it was (he secretly backed Ross), when Chandler took his first invigorating dive into the ocean on Saturday morning, he had to admit it was an exceedingly good one.
The waves were white-crested and huge that day, making swimming impossible, but Chandler, Ross and Ben were having the best time playing in the surf, giving in to the power of the ocean, laughing and flailing as it toyed with them, as a cat does with a mouse, dragging and pushing at their bodies as they bravely faced the crash of each wave head on.
The swell had proven too intimidating for Joey, though he would never admit it, so he had retreated to dry land, requisitioning Ben's plastic spade and busying himself by digging a deep hole on the shoreline under the watchful gaze of Phoebe, who was peering avidly from beneath her straw hat, offering occasional construction tips from the sidelines, and warning him of any incoming waves.
Monica and Rachel were rather less industrious, lazing side by side on cheerfully striped beach towels. They reminded Chandler of a pair of rotisserie roasted chickens, as they slowly and methodically rotated their bikini-clad bodies in pursuit of an even tan, their skin slathered with lotion and glistening in the sun.
When Ross and Ben decided it was time to head off in search of ice cream, Chandler left the water to dry off with them, plonking himself down on a towel next to Monica. She was lying prone, resting on her elbows and flipping through a magazine, so he bent to kiss the back of her neck and placed an affectionate hand on the small of her back. When his frigid wet skin made contact with the scorching heat of hers she shrieked in shock.
"My God, Chandler! You're freezing!" she scolded in a gasp, bringing herself up to a seated position.
"Me and Daddy are going to get ice cream" Ben informed her, mischievously placing his own cold, wet hand on Rachel's shoulder in order to elicit a similarly vociferous reaction from her.
Monica chuckled as she grabbed hold of him and wrapped him tight in a towel. "First you need some more sunscreen on, little man. Sit still for a second."
Ben wriggled and writhed in objection, giggling at his Aunt's struggles to keep his wayward limbs under control. "Hey!" she warned "I'll get Uncle Chandler to sit on you if you're not careful!"
Chandler gave him a frown of mock sternness, then watched fondly as Monica continued to wrestle with the little boy as she applied his lotion, a huge loving grin lighting up her face.
He felt a familiar wrench in his heart.
Seeing her like this made him ache. She was born to be a mother, and reminders of that fact seemed to hit him harder and with more frequency as the months rolled by. Every time he saw her with Ben it thumped him in the chest and stole his breath. Sometimes he even felt it when he just watched how she tended to the dog, or Joey.
He supposed it was quite rare to know about fertility issues so early on in a relationship, and he was finding the situation really quite difficult to navigate.
Their relationship was not even nine months old: Under normal circumstances this would feel far too soon to even think about family planning, which was probably why they had been reluctant to address the issue as yet, not really mentioning it at all beyond recovering from the shock of that devastating consultation with Dr Palmer. But the knowledge that any future attempt to get pregnant would almost certainly be long and arduous, and most likely painfully fruitless, weighed heavy on Chandler's mind, and he could not help but feel that every month they didn't try, was a month lost.
At work last week, he had overheard two female colleagues chatting about a recent break up, the jilted party voicing her concerns about how this romantic setback would affect her life plan, and bemoaning her rapidly declining fertility levels.
Chandler had felt his body tense up as he had listened in to the frightening statistics she was churning out, and he had glanced carefully over, determining that she could not realistically be much older than Monica.
He had suddenly felt this woman's biological panic as pertinently as if it was his own, and he had resolved right there and then to find a way to talk to Monica about it, but it was hard to know how to do that without upsetting her and taking her right back to the trauma of January.
"Does anybody else want ice cream?" Ross checked as he slipped a t-shirt over his own head and then rummaged around in the bag for some clothes for Ben.
Everybody declined except for Joey, who bounded over enthusiastically at the mention of a sweet treat and began digging around in the sand for his partially buried flip-flops.
"I might take a walk along the beach" Chandler decided, silently extending the invitation to Monica, and Monica alone, by trailing a finger down the back of her arm and shooting her a look of inquiry.
She nodded and gave a languid yawn and stretch, before reaching for her sunglasses, sliding a pair of grey cotton shorts over her already sun-kissed thighs, and retying her hair in a messy bun.
They left Rachel and Phoebe to their pile of magazines and wandered hand in hand, staying close to the water, allowing the light sea breeze and salt spray to calm their skin as it flamed beneath the relentless rays of the sun. Their feet sank into the sparkling sand with every slow step, the frothy ebb and flow of the waves occasionally lapping over their toes and smudging their footprints.
"It feels weird taking a walk together without Tilly", Monica observed "I feel so guilty that we left her in the city. She loves the water."
"It would have been way too hot for her this weekend," Chandler reminded her of their rationale for leaving the dog behind, then added "Plus she would have been a huge pain in the ass. There's no way she would have let you lie there and sunbathe like that, she would have been jumping all over you!".
Monica laughed "Yeah that's true. It's kind of nice not to have to constantly worry about what she's getting up to for a change. But I do miss her."
She looked a little wistful when she added "I guess having a dog is a little like having a kid, in some ways".
Chandler squeezed at her hand, "Yeah, I guess it is".
He glanced at her pensively from the side of his eyes before musing "And we look after her pretty well together don't we? We make a pretty good team?"
She smiled up at him with a hint of questioning in her eyes, "Yeah, of course we do."
"We should bring her here in the fall" he proposed "When it's cooler."
She nodded, gazing out over the vast spectrum of blues on the horizon, watching a couple of gulls as they drifted tranquilly on unseen thermals.
"It's nice to be here with Ben, huh?" Chandler said.
It was a casually worded remark, but Monica could sense his nerves. She turned to face him and spoke directly, "Chandler, I feel like you're trying to tell me something. What is it?"
Chandler gave a defeated shrug and bent down to pick up a particularly smooth and shiny rock he spotted glistening in the sand, toying with it as he began to speak.
"Yeah alright. I guess I wanted to talk to you about the whole... baby thing".
Monica looked immediately uncomfortable. "OK..."
"Well... firstly... I just wonder if maybe we should go see another doctor... together this time..."
She huffed slightly as she shook her head "Chandler..."
"Hear me out! I'm not suggesting that the doctor you saw before was wrong, or that you need a second opinion; I'm not even suggesting that you get re-examined or anything. I just think that it might be helpful for somebody to go through your notes and talk us through everything as a couple, you know? Run through our options. I mean, you were so upset last time, you'd had such a big shock, you probably didn't have time to take it all in, let alone ask questions, or get it straight in your head..."
She linked her arm through his and rested her head against his shoulder as she softly replied, "I think that's a really good idea. But it's probably something we should do when we actually start trying for a baby".
"Well.. that's the other thing.."
Her bottom lip dropped open as she looked at him wide-eyed.
"I know we haven't even been together for a year... and we're not married or anything... well, you are..."
"Hey!" the unwanted reminder that her divorce was still yet to be finalized earned him a jab in the side, "It'll be any day now!"
He shot her a little wry smirk and threw the shiny rock out into the ocean before continuing his somewhat nervous ramble.
"I guess what I mean is, maybe we don't fully try for a baby right now, I'm not suggesting we start fertility treatment right away or anything...but perhaps we don't not try for a baby..."
Monica regarded him again, quiet and thoughtful. "What?"
"I really want this to happen for us Mon," he told her gently, and when he saw her brow crumple he stopped walking and stood facing her, cupping her suddenly teary face in his hands, "And I know it might not happen -"
"Almost certainly won't happen" Monica corrected, firm but breathless.
- at least not without some help from a doctor..."
Monica looked distressed as she shook her head and warned him gravely, "Chandler. Even with medical intervention it still might not happen.."
"I know" he whispered, "Listen, I'm not saying this to pressure you, alright? I know the score. I just don't want us to waste time, trying to stick to a conventional relationship timeline. We're not conventional: We've known one another for way longer than a lot of couples who already have a family."
He pressed his lips against her fretful pout and then brought their clasped hands to his face and kissed her knuckles too.
"I just want us to have the best possible shot. I want us to give ourselves enough time. And if it still doesn't happen, in a year or so, we'll find another way".
Monica squeezed her eyelids closed and swallowed hard, her flesh suddenly jittery despite the warm balm of the sun.
"Just say it did happen", she hardly dared to say the words let alone allow herself to imagine it; she hadn't allowed herself to do that in a long time. "Do you really think we're ready?"
The desperate longing that surged through her veins told her just how ready she felt.
"Well, it might seem fast, but the more I think about it, the more simple it is." Chandler said with a shrug, pausing to kiss away an escaped tear that settled on her cheek, "I love you. And it doesn't matter what surprises come our way, because I will always love you. And I think that's as ready and sure as anybody can ever really be..."
She gave his hands a tender squeeze but looked down at her toes, curling and flexing them anxiously in the soft sand.
"I know how I'd feel if you told me we were having a baby," he told her honestly, "And I wouldn't be scared, and I wouldn't be worried that we'd gone too fast. I trust us."
"I do too," she told him, her eyes shining with yearning as she admitted, "I'm just so scared, Chandler. Scared to go through it all again. I'm scared to let myself want it. Trying for a baby nearly broke me last time around. I don't want it to break us..."
"It won't. It can't", he assured her simply, "It'll be different this time, because we'll be going through it together, and we'll want it together. You won't ever feel like you're doing it alone: I promise you that".
She didn't need convincing on that score.
Monica had learned from bitter experience that loneliness inside a relationship is the very worst kind, and it had taken her a little while to get used to the idea of being able to lean on somebody and relinquish a few burdens, but Chandler made it easy.
He would be right there with her through it all; fighting her corner; celebrating her wins; supporting her through her defeats. She believed that without doubt or reservation; she could trust him implicitly.
"I know" she whispered, her heart felt like it might just burst right there and then, and she encircled him in her arms and drew him as close as she could, "I know that. Everything's different with you. The most wonderful kind of different".
"So that's a yes?" he confirmed. "We don't not try for a baby anymore?"
"It's a yes" she burrowed her face into his neck, and allowed herself to get completely lost in that moment; just him and her; the deafening thunder of the waves against the sand; and the tiniest but most precious glimmer of hope.
A/N So that's it! A slightly bittersweet route into happy ever after I suppose. I was a bit unsure about making things angsty so close to the end, but it was kind of the whole premise of the story right from the start, so unavoidable really! I'm really excited to write the final installment, and I hope that will round everything off nicely.
Thanks again for reading!