A/N I generally have a pretty clear map of how I want a story to evolve before I start writing it, so I don't often allow myself to stray from that, but on this occasion a few people mentioned returning to the ice rink for the epilogue and I loved the idea so much I had to do it - so thank you to those of you who suggested it and I hope you enjoy this final installment!
"Can we please go a little faster?"
Ben's eyes were shiny with exhilaration as he fired his aunt a hopeful grin, his lips only just visible, peeking out from the thick red scarf that was wrapped snugly around his neck.
"Alright, let's go!"
An energetic smile accompanied Monica's determined nod, and her gloved hands gripped his tighter as they dug the blades of their skates into the ice with more force, all ready to propel themselves forward with zealous intent.
They had been on the ice for around thirty minutes now, and after a predictably shaky start, both aunt and nephew were gaining in confidence. The capabilities of the third member of their trio however, remained somewhat stagnant, and his consequent frustration was manifesting as severe bad temper.
"Monica! Stop!" Ross clutched Ben's other hand hard. A dull thud followed his accusatory yell, as his backside made painful contact with the ice for the fifth time that evening.
"How was that my fault?" Monica demanded, steadying Ben, who had almost been pulled to the floor too, and glaring down into her brother's cross, pink face.
She steeled her thighs, bending to offer him a hand, and hauled him ungracefully back to his feet.
"Would you stop trying to make us go so fast?" Ross complained, "It's not a race! We're supposed to be having fun, remember? Everything always has to turn into a competition with you!"
Monica rolled her eyes, "Oh come on! If we were going any slower we'd be skating backwards!"
"And not in a good way," Ben ruefully agreed, side-eying his aunt so that they could share a conspiratorial smirk.
"It's not safe to drag people around like that!" Ross continued, straightening up as pompously as he was able, and dusting the ice from his frosted behind. "Somebody could get seriously hurt! Do you have any idea how many limbs get broken at ice rinks each year?"
Monica looked away, took a deep breath and then puffed out her cheeks, attempting to alleviate her mounting exasperation. She was rapidly losing patience with her brother and was struggling to prevent herself from resorting to childish insults.
Ross had barely finished his safety lecture before he teetered again. Thankfully, he managed to right himself this time, and Monica held up both of her hands to demonstrate her complete lack of culpability in his latest wobble.
"Right, I'm done anyway", she told him evenly, "I'm going to find the others. Would you like me to take you back over to the edge of the rink so you can hang on to the side?"
"I can skate, OK!" Ross insisted loudly, his dark eyes full of belligerence, "I'm fine! I just like to go at my own pace, that's all!"
Ben stared up at Monica with a look of alarm, clearly concerned by the prospect of managing his father on his own. She ruffled his hair and assured him "Don't worry, I'll send Chandler or Joey over".
The insinuation that he was in any way incapable of navigating the ice alone earned her another fierce glower from her brother.
As Monica turned ready to glide away, she heard Ross gasp. His skate seemed to have caught in a groove resulting in yet another limb-flailing stumble; this one so comically flamboyant, it provoked pointing and hoots of laughter from a passing gaggle of teenage girls.
"Monica!" he shrilled again, his eyes wild with humiliation as he continued to apportion the kind of unfathomable blame that only a sibling can.
"What? I'm nowhere near you!" she objected, her outraged huff appearing as wisps of white vapor in the crisp winter air.
Not wishing to belittle her brother in front of his son, she waited until she was out of earshot before adding in an irritated mutter, "It's not my fault you suck!"
As she left Ross to sulk and wove her way through the throngs of skaters, she took a moment to appreciate the holiday card perfection of the scene. Skating in the park at Christmas was always magical but this year it felt particularly idyllic: A light blanket of pristine snow had fallen this afternoon, not so much as to cause disruption, just enough to soften and hush, and turn the bare bones of the winter trees into elegant silhouettes against the as yet untainted whiteness. And better than that, Monica was here with all of her favorite people. Despite her brother's grumpiness, it all felt pretty wonderful.
She clambered from the ice and scoured the covered area that surrounded the rink for familiar faces. Her eyes soon fell on Chandler, who cut a solitary figure, perched on a bench near a coffee stall. He appeared to have been abandoned and tasked with guarding the group's bags and shoes, his own yet-to-be-worn skates still lying at his feet.
A fond smile curved her lips as she watched him. He was not a fan of cold weather and was making no attempt to mask his discomfort. He was hunched up and chilly looking, blowing clouds of humidity into his hands, then rubbing his palms briskly together in an attempt to stave off the bitter December air.
The sight of Monica shuffling across the dripping wet floor towards him seemed to provide immediate warmth though, and the way his taut shoulders relaxed and his eyes began to twinkle the moment they met hers, made her own insides glow too.
"Hey. How come you're all alone? Where are the girls?" she asked, her eyes scanning the area for the rest of the group.
"Oh, they took a walk to see the big Christmas tree outside. And Joey's getting a hotdog I think."
She settled heavily on the bench with a weary sigh.
"Will you please put on your skates and help Ben for a while? Your brother-in-law's driving me insane!" she grumbled, resting her head on his shoulder and closing her eyes.
Chandler smirked as he observed her aggravated pout and he kissed her frozen cheek. When Monica stopped referring to Ross as her brother and verbally signed him over to Chandler like that, it was a sure sign that her levels of sisterly infuriation were sky-rocketing dangerously high.
"Yeah alright" he agreed, "But if you see Joey, send him over to help too. I've experienced "Ross on ice" before, and I reckon I could use a little back up."
Chandler had officially gained a brother-in-law eighteen months ago, when he and Monica had married to very little fanfare but overwhelming joy, in a simple, intimate ceremony witnessed by their very closest friends and family.
Monica's marriage to Chandler might have been an understated celebration, but it was beautiful nonetheless: The complete antithesis to her first wedding, when she had gone all out, and spent an extortionate amount of money on bringing to life all of her childhood fantasies of what it meant to be a perfect bride.
On the rare occasions she thought back upon the spectacularly elaborate party she had shared with Richard, she found that she could barely remember the "getting married" part at all; it having been entirely overshadowed by the importance she had placed on showstopping centerpieces, the sumptuous banquet, her breathtakingly beautiful gown.
Chandler had not forgotten the fervor with which Monica and Maid of Honor Rachel, had approached her extravagant wedding to Richard, and he had consequently felt a little worried and unsure when she had insisted that when it came to planning the Geller-Bing nuptials, she would prefer something small and straightforward; free from distractions and without unnecessary embellishment. He had never liked the idea of anything too big or fancy himself, but he certainly did not want their wedding to feel like "less" by comparison, and he had been quite adamant that just because Monica had been married before, she should not hold back.
But eventually she had managed to convince him that the simplicity she craved did not represent compromise, but freedom. This time around Monica didn't want a wedding, she wanted a marriage, and their day was just perfect. When she and Chandler eventually read their vows, the backdrop did not matter one bit; she had gazed deep into those beautiful blue eyes of his, and felt every single promise they made to one another like a permanent imprint on her heart.
"The girls shouldn't be too long." Chandler told her, shoving his reluctant feet into the freezing plastic skates and fastening them up with his already numb fingers. "Although Rachel was complaining that the baby was resting on her bladder, so they may have gone to the bathroom again too."
Rachel was too heavily pregnant to take to the ice this year: She and Ross were due to welcome a baby girl in February.
In typical Ross and Rachel fashion, even the prospect of starting a family together had not yet put an end to the "will they, won't they" drama that continued to delay what everybody else saw as an eventual inevitability. The pair insisted that they had no intention of getting back together, the plan being that they would co-parent their child without any romantic involvement at all; but Monica was convinced that would soon change.
Ross's relationship with Sophie had lasted a good few months, but it had eventually tapered to a natural and amicable close when she had finished her studies and moved back to England. By that point, Rachel was single too and the pair had gravitated ever closer, as they so often had before. Still, there had never been any real sign of official reconciliation, so their pregnancy had sent shockwaves through the group.
Monica was excited beyond belief to meet her new niece, and she was over the moon for her brother and her best friend, but still, the concept of accidental pregnancy provoked an unspoken but deep-rooted twinge of jealous longing. No matter what happened, it would always be hard for her to reconcile that a spontaneous, Merlot-induced hook up, and a condom that had been sitting for too long in Ross's wallet, could result in a baby, given the emotionally exhausting battle she had endured in pursuit of the same.
And it really had been exhausting.
In retrospect, Monica could see that it had been naive of her to believe she could ever have approached baby-making in the relaxed and passive way Chandler had suggested that day on the beach. "Not not trying" had swiftly turned into trying, and trying hard.
Within weeks of that beach trip, painful old fixations crept out of hibernation and insidiously took hold; the intricacies of her reproductive cycle once again claiming their place right at the very forefront of her obsessive mind.
Dr Palmer's diagnosis should have kept all of that at bay, but Monica was a romantic soul madly in love. No matter how hard she tried to be sensible about it; no matter how much she tried to protect her poor yearning heart from dangerous optimism; somewhere deep inside, it felt somehow inconceivable to her that the magical, "lightning in a bottle" chemistry she shared with Chandler could fail to produce the new life she so desired.
She never said it out loud, but "not not trying" had encouraged her to cultivate a secret seed of hope, which over time, grew into an almost unshakable belief that they would defy both science and expectation, and fall pregnant.
But just like last time, month after crushing month, they did not, and that horribly familiar feeling of bitter disappointment began to swell and ache and take over her life.
It was awful; devastating; and for a while Monica felt like she had fallen right back to where she started.
But she hadn't, of course, because this time she had Chandler. This time around he was right there with her holding her hand through it all, and she never once felt alone.
He identified what was going on in Monica's head almost as quickly as she did, and he acted fast and proactively to deliver the dose of realism she needed. Not the kind of brutal realism that would make her doubt their innate magic, and stamp out her hopes and dreams; but the kind that would help them find a new way to work towards them.
They found a good fertility doctor who analyzed them as a couple and advised them as to how they might eventually proceed. At that time, they were yet to marry and they were still living with Joey, so it was not quite the right time to begin treatment; but armed with all of the facts, they had at least been able to come up with a plan. It was a plan that involved rather more waiting than Monica might have liked, but just knowing what options were available to them felt like progress, and any progress was good.
Having somebody with whom to face the journey had made all the difference to Monica, and despite all of their struggles, as a couple they had gone from strength to strength. Their commitment to one another, and to their future together was unwavering, and when an apartment came up for rent on the floor below Joey and Ross, the pair snapped it up and set up a happy home.
A wintry, windswept proposal of marriage followed soon after, back on that same beach they had wandered along the summer before.
Chandler had knelt down in the wet sand and he had pretty much had to shout his proposal over the deafening crash of the waves. They had squinted, and laughed, and fought for their breath, as the salty wind whipped painfully at their faces, and Tilly had zigzagged around them wildly; ploughing through the relentless surf with such vigor, that she had seemed to provide a visual representation of their unbridled joy.
"Right, wish me luck" Chandler looked out over the ice with trepidation as he drew himself up tall and pulled the zipper of his jacket right to the top.
"You'll need it; honestly, he's on his ass more than he's on his feet," Monica poured scorn on her brother as she peeled off her gloves, freeing her fingernails so that she could work on the unpleasantly soggy knots in the laces of her skates.
As Chandler shuffled away to find Ross and Ben, Monica was still bent over, pulling on her leather boots over her thick winter socks. She felt a sudden rush of movement close to her head, and in her peripheral vision she saw a child's legs steam past. They were running a little faster than was really advisable when wearing skates on dry land, and in their apparent hurry to reach the ice, they tripped over one of Chandler's abandoned sneakers.
"Oh my gosh, are you OK?" she gasped apologetically, jumping up to offer the boy a steadying arm.
When he turned around, Monica took a sharp intake of breath. She would know those grey eyes anywhere, and though the boy was much older than the last time she had seen him, she recognized him immediately as Richard's grandson, Henry. He seemed to have a vague recollection of her too, regarding her with curious familiarity as he brushed his dirty blond curls from his rosy cheeks.
"Monica?" A voice from the past called her name, and she turned around to see Steve's wide, toothy beam. A little girl, presumably baby Leah, was also peering at her from behind his legs.
"Hi!" Monica responded a little breathlessly.
She had not seen Steve or the children for three years; not since that horrible Christmas Day spent with the Burke family; the day she had finally left Richard.
Throughout her first marriage, Monica had always regarded Steve as a friend and ally, and seeing his smile prompted a spontaneous flood of good feeling, but it was tainted by an unpleasant wave of nausea, brought on by the dreadful realization that there was a pretty good chance she was about to come face to face with Michelle.
Before she had too much time to feel anxious, Steve had pulled her into a warm hug.
"It's so good to see you! How've you been? How's Chandler?"
Steve greeted her with characteristic enthusiasm and personability, and his complete lack of awkwardness relaxed Monica's shoulders somewhat.
"Yeah, we're good thanks! How about you guys? I can't believe how much Henry and Leah have grown! Look at you both!"
Her eyes moved between the two children with genuine fondness, amazed by how much time had altered them in her absence.
"I know right?" Steve adjusted Leah's pink beanie, which had fallen over one of her eyes, "We actually have another one on the way too! Due in March. That's why Michelle's not here."
The rest of Monica's tension evaporated at the news that she was not about to clap eyes on Richard's disagreeable daughter.
"That's so exciting! Congratulations!" she grinned, managing to ignore the tiny reflexive flutter of yearning that she always felt whenever anybody announced a pregnancy. It was so deeply ingrained in her now, she imagined she would still feel it even if she had ten kids of her own.
"It's gonna be a brother, we're having a boy" Henry informed her. His tone was one of unabashed relief, and Monica responded with due glee.
"How's the rest of the family?" she eventually asked, "Is Barbara OK?"
"She's great", Steve confirmed with a nod, "Still all clear, and she has a really nice boyfriend now; a guy called Derek. They're really happy, and seem to be permanently on vacation."
"He's real nice." confirmed Henry. "He used to be a fireman".
Monica had wondered a few times over the years about Barbara's recovery, so this news brought relief. She probably could have asked her parents about it: She suspected that they were still somewhat up to date with the goings on within the Burke family thanks to local gossip networks, but after the divorce, Jack and Judy had called time on their own friendship with Richard, and to this day, they remained resolute in their refusal to mention his name in Monica's presence.
She was not entirely sure if their decision to cut Richard from their lives was borne of their disgust for his deception, or the shame they had derived from Monica's affair; she imagined it was probably a bit of both; but either way, their unwillingness to speak Richard's name was actually quite unnecessary.
The truth was, that thinking of Richard was entirely pain-free for Monica. He seemed so far in her past now, he was barely even a ghost. In fact, the last three years had been so transformative, that sometimes it almost felt like Richard was something that happened to somebody else.
So, as she stood here now with Steve, it was easy to ask the question.
"How's Richard?"
Steve looked mildly surprised to have been asked, but responded with a shrug.
"He's alright. He went off to Africa for six months last year, to do some volunteer work. I think he was trying to "find himself" or something, but I don't think he looked too hard, cause he's still the same old Richard," he chuckled and shot her a wry smirk, "Golf... cars... mustache grooming... You know the drill."
Monica sniggered.
"He has a new girlfriend too." Henry piped up.
"Yeah?"
"Oh yeah.." Steve's tone was laced with furtive amusement and his eyes widened with a hint of sensationalism. "Donna. She's four years younger than Michelle, so I'm sure you can imagine how delighted Tim and Michelle are about that!"
"She has really long nails," Henry elaborated without concern. "And she wears cowboy boots. My mom doesn't like 'em, does she Dad?"
"Well, I don't know what Mommy thinks, but I think the cowboy boots are fair enough: Donna does a lot of line dancing, so..." Steve demonstrated his non-judgement with another affable shrug.
Monica's lips fell open slightly, struggling to know what might constitute an appropriate response to this information, but then she heard a loud wail that caused her to instinctively whip around.
Rachel and Phoebe were heading in her direction, both looking a little red-cheeked and flustered, as they made jointly unsuccessful attempts to soothe the apparently inconsolable six month old that Phoebe was jiggling against her hip.
"Nothing works with this child!" Phoebe declared impatiently, thrusting the screaming infant into Monica's waiting arms. "You'd think we'd taken her to see a horror movie, not a Christmas tree! Quick! Take her before my eardrums explode!"
"Oh! What's the matter, sweet girl?" Monica hugged the baby close and kissed away a jewel-like tear from her soft pink cheek.
"She just needs her Mommy," Rachel cooed, applying the brake on the empty stroller she was pushing. She brought her hands to rest on her ample bump, and watched fondly as the little girl's howls of anguish quickly subsided, taking instant comfort from her mother's loving embrace.
"Aw, who's this?" Steve asked, running an affectionate hand over the infant's back, smiling down with wonder, as she looked up at him with gradually calming, but still watery blue eyes.
"This is Ava", Monica's beam extended from ear to ear as she squeezed her little girl close. A prickle of emotion sparkled in her eyes as she spoke; she always felt like she might just explode with pride when she got to introduce her daughter to anybody, because it felt like the greatest privilege in the world.
She still had to pinch herself regularly, unable to quite believe that this absolute dream of a human was really here, and really belonged to her.
Henry moved slightly closer and stroked Ava's mittened hand with a gentle finger, giggling when she responded by making a grab for his hair.
"Wow, she's just beautiful," Steve observed fondly, "God, I'm so thrilled for you, Mon. It's really great to see you looking so happy."
"Thank you".
Monica knew she looked happy. She was happy. Happier than she had ever dreamed possible.
When their fertility doctor had suggested that they might be good candidates for intrauterine insemination, using Chandler's sperm, he had urged caution; warning them that multiple cycles of treatment were often necessary before a pregnancy was achieved, and advising them to prepare themselves, mentally and financially, for three or four rounds at least. He had impressed upon them that even then, they still might not get pregnant, and that more advanced, more expensive options, such as IVF, might still be on the horizon.
But Ava was conceived just a couple of months after her parents' wedding, on their very first round of treatment.
Monica had always known they were magic.
The sight of a positive pregnancy test had felt so unbelievably surreal to her habitually disappointed eyes, that she had to sneak to the store to buy and then take a further three tests before she had the confidence to speak out loud the words she had been longing to say to her husband.
"I'm pregnant".
Even when that glorious announcement had emerged from her lips, and Chandler had kissed her, and squeezed her, and twirled her in his elated arms; and they had clung to one another with joyful desperation, their hearts soaring with unknown bliss; Monica still hardly dared to believe it. Her greatest joy tempered by the most unimaginable terror that something might yet go wrong.
It had all felt so extraordinary, and so fragile, that she had been unsure of how she was supposed to function with any kind of normality for nine whole months. In that first trimester, she had wanted to swathe her body in protective bubble wrap and hide herself away from the world, anything to ensure that no harm could come to the precious little miracle concealed in her belly.
As time went on however, she managed to relax, and she began to enjoy her pregnancy as she had always dreamed she would. She glowed every time anybody mentioned the beautiful swell of her bump, she cherished and indulged every weird craving, and her heart sang with every little movement and kick.
It was the happiest, healthiest, most straightforward pregnancy they could ever have wished for: It was almost as though Ava knew how traumatic her parents' journey had been so far, and decided to reward them by being an entirely unproblematic fetus.
If pregnancy had felt sublime there were simply insufficient words to express what Monica felt when she came face to face with their daughter's utter perfection for the very first time.
Ava emerged into the world with only the smallest mewl of complaint, her little body so tiny and delicate that Monica was almost afraid to touch her, but as soon as the nurse placed her daughter onto the heaving exhaustion of her chest; the warmth of her skin against her pounding heart; and when she connected with nascent blue eyes that seemed to know her already; she experienced a surge of love and devotion so intense; so primal; so life-changing; she felt like she had sailed away to some unearthly plain.
She had only realized how hard she was crying when had seen the same euphoric tears shining in Chandler's eyes too. She had sought recovery in his arms, his lips whispering his love, his pride, his praise, and his gratitude against her damp forehead, his tender fingers combing through the sweaty tangle of her hair, and together they had gazed upon the exquisite child nestled at her breast, enraptured, awed and hopelessly in love. Monica had known right there and then, that this was it. Everything she had ever wanted.
Steve was keen to chat, coo over Ava, and exchange friendly pleasantries with Phoebe and Rachel for a while longer, but Henry and Leah were getting ever more twitchy and restless. Monica could see how hard they were trying to behave politely, despite their increasing desperation to get on the ice.
"I'd better get going," Steve eventually conceded as his daughter tugged impatiently at his sleeve, "But it really has been great to catch up, Mon!"
"Hey, you know what?" he added as an aside, as he gave her a departing hug, "I sometimes take Leah to a really great "Story and Song" session at Mulberry Street Library on Wednesday mornings. I'll bet Ava would like it. Maybe I'll see you there sometime?"
"Yeah, we'd like that," Monica smiled as she waved them all off with wistful eyes.
"I don't think Michelle would be too happy about you going on baby dates with Steve..." Phoebe mused as she watched him helping the kids onto the rink, "So you should totally go!"
Monica chuckled as Phoebe's eyes lit up with devilish delight.
"The days of me caring what Michelle thinks are long gone," she assured Phoebe before turning to Rachel, giving her bump a light rub and grinning excitedly, "A "Story and Song" session sounds good. We should take the two little cousins!"
"And me!" Phoebe declared forcefully, folding her arms across her chest, determined not to be overlooked, "Which library did he say it was? Maybe I'll try to get a gig there!"
Monica and Rachel exchanged a quick trepidatious smirk as they recalled Phoebe's previous attempts at child-friendly but brutally honest songwriting. Admittedly, her efforts had been well-received by the kids, but she had managed to ruffle more than a few parental feathers.
"Shall we go see if we can watch Daddy on the ice, Ava?" Monica suggested to her daughter, "And Ben? And Uncle Ross? He should be easy enough to spot, 'cause he'll be the one sitting on his tushy!"
She wandered over to the perimeter of the rink with Ava settled comfortably in her arms, and she watched fondly as the little girl's ocean blue eyes grew huge and her rosebud lips dropped open, astonished by the hoards of skaters flying past them.
The baby was wrapped up warmly in a navy, polka-dot snowsuit which was so thickly padded that her ability to move her limbs was somewhat impeded, but when she saw Chandler skating towards them, her legs kicked hard and her arms flailed, as she let out a squawk of excitement.
Monica felt a flurry of something too.
He was no expert, but she had to admit that Chandler was attractively competent on the ice, and in his skates and winter coat he seemed even taller and broader than usual. The flush in his cheeks spoke of outdoors and physical activity, lending him a rugged quality that made her want to grab him by the collar and kiss him hard.
"Hello ladies!" As his eyes connected with his daughter's, his face became animated with silliness and her little arms grew wilder in response.
His hands gripped the barrier either side of where Monica was standing and he bent down, bringing himself face to face with Ava. He blew a soft raspberry against her dimpled cheek, eliciting a hearty baby chuckle that warmed both parents' chests right through.
Chandler loved making Ava laugh as much as he loved making Monica laugh; actually even more so right now, because Ava was unfailingly appreciative of his humor and she never rolled her eyes. When he had pointed this out to Monica, advising that she had some seriously stiff competition and possibly needed to up her game, she had assured him that with a father like him, Ava would learn to roll her eyes in no time at all.
Ava's laugh was Monica's favorite sound too, and she grinned fondly as Chandler continued to entertain their little girl. When he eventually stood up and locked eyes with Monica, her smile softened. She thought he was leaning in for a kiss, but instead he blew an even more resounding raspberry against her own cheek, drawing another shriek of delight from their daughter and one from Monica too, as she batted him away and swiped the damp residue of his raucous brand of affection from her skin with mock disgust. Her narrowed eyes were admonishing, but she smirked too, secretly resolving to demand the bruising kiss she had been hoping for later on.
"How's "The Incredible Sulk" getting on?" she asked, scanning the ice for any sign of her grumpy brother, "You haven't left poor Ben alone with him have you?"
"Ben saw a friend from school and went off with him" Chandler told her, "I left Joey in charge of Ross. Although he almost got kicked off the ice for skating with a hot dog in each hand".
Monica laughed despairingly.
"Has Ross improved at all?"
"Nope" Chandler sniggered, "And it was all my fault. Apparently, I've really changed since you and I got married, and not in a good way. I've become very competitive. Added to which, I'm a very reckless skater with a laissez-faire attitude to safety, and no respect for the ice".
Monica guffawed and shook her head.
"Hey, guess what? I just ran into Steve!" she told him.
"Buscemi? Martin?"
Another eye roll.
"Michelle's Steve"
"Oh, that poor bastard! God, please don't tell me she's here too..."
"No, it was just him and the kids. Michelle's too pregnant, apparently."
Chandler scoffed "Great. Just what the world needs. More Burke spawn."
Monica sniggered and gave his shoulder a scolding tap, "The kids are actually really sweet. I think they mainly got their dad's genes."
"Just like you!" Chandler tickled Ava's chin as he addressed her in babyish tones, "That's why you're so smart and beautiful, isn't it!"
He grinned back up at Monica with a teasing glint in his eye, and then leaned forward to kiss the cold tip of her nose. In reality, it was a widely accepted fact that apart from having inherited her father's unmistakable eyes, Ava was her mother in miniature.
"It was really great to see them all", she admitted, "Steve's always been so sweet. Anyway, he said to say hi and to pass on his congratulations".
Chandler looked down at his daughter with a proud beam.
"Yeah I always liked Steve, he's a good guy. God knows how he puts up with that witch. He must have the patience of a saint".
Monica nodded her agreement and reached up to brush a lock of hair from Chandler's cool, rosy face.
"Listen, as soon as you mentioned hotdogs it made me really hungry. Can we please go eat?" she asked with pleading eyes.
"Yeah, good idea. Although I'm not sure I can eat a hotdog right now: When the guy from the rink told Joey he wasn't allowed to eat on the ice, he pretty much swallowed both of his whole. Honestly, he just opened his jaw like a snake!" The memory prompted a grimace, "Impressive, but a little disturbing".
"Well, I promise not to do that", Monica smirked.
Chandler eyed her thoughtfully then his face broke into a mischievous grin, "It probably wouldn't look so bad if you did it".
"Go get your shoes on!" she ordered with a tut and a withering chuckle, watching with tender eyes as he skated off towards the exit, accepting her command with a boyish smile and a quick salute.
Despite her promise not to swallow her hotdog whole, Monica found herself wolfing it down in a manner that she doubted was much more delicate than Joey had managed, her far-too-large mouthfuls almost painful as they descended laboriously from mouth to stomach. Ava's hungry grumbles were growing ever more insistent and her eyes were trained on her mother like a hawk. Despite Chandler's gallant attempts to distract her with chatter and bounces, both parents knew that they were just minutes away from a full scale meltdown, and Monica was feeling the pressure.
She tried to speed things along by washing everything down with a quick swig of soda, but she was still chewing frantically on her last bite of food when she held out her arms to relieve her husband of the complaining child.
"OK, I'm ready!" she declared between gulps, "Let's find somewhere to feed you, baby girl."
Ava hushed somewhat, her proximity to her mother providing vital reassurance that the feed she wanted was imminent.
"Oh look! There's a bench right there by the Christmas tree!"
Monica's eyes shone with childlike delight, and Chandler stared back at her incredulously as he took a bite out of his nearly-finished burger.
"Are you crazy? You can't breastfeed outdoors when there's snow on the ground! It's freezing! My nipples feel like they're about to drop off and I'm wearing three layers!"
"Sure I can! We're all wrapped up warm and you know that Ava and I are experts at this now. I barely have to flash any flesh at all!" She dismissed his concerns with a flap of her hand as she strode purposefully towards the vacant bench, her boots leaving footprints in the tainted, slushy snow that remained on the well-trodden path, "Come on, it's beautiful out here!"
Chandler looked dubious as he pushed the stroller along behind her, but as he huddled at her side on the icy bench beneath the festive majesty of the twinkling tree, and they looked out over the continuing buzz of the rink, the snow-covered park and the cityscape beyond, he had to admit the wintry scene that surrounded them did feel rather magical.
Monica adjusted her clothes with well-honed efficiency, pulling up her sweater, and tugging her vest and bra down just enough to get the baby into position, then she wrapped her jacket around them both, throwing Chandler a look of triumph as she did so. He returned a duly impressed nod, then grabbed a fleece blanket from the stroller and draped it tenderly over both mother and daughter, providing an additional layer of warmth, before snuggling himself in close too.
Monica felt her eyes soften as she peered down at her daughter's mostly hidden face. She could just see the reflection from the tree lights above sparkling in Ava's contented eyes, which were already beginning to glaze and drift a little. The combination of warmth, nourishment and close connection with her mother never failed to lull her to sleep.
"I'm so excited for Christmas," Monica confided, shifting her body slightly so that she could lean into Chandler's shoulder, taking great care to avoid disturbing the baby whilst doing so. "I know Ava has no clue what's going on, but I just love how excited she is by all of the lights and the decorations. Her little face was so sweet when she was watching you on the ice earlier. And she's going to look so cute in that little red dress I bought her to wear on Christmas Day!"
"That kid is going to be spoiled rotten. Have you seen how many gifts Rachel got her? And the poor UPS guy looked like he might need back surgery after lugging that package from my mom around. No doubt your parents will go nuts too."
"Yeah she's a lucky little girl", Monica smiled.
Chandler looped his arm more tightly around her shoulder as her eyes grew wistful.
"When Ben and I were on the ice earlier I was thinking back to the first time I brought him here, do you remember? The year I came here with Richard?"
Chandler pulled back slightly and eyed her with suspicious inquiry "Yes, I remember. What about it?"
"You don't need to look so worried!" she chuckled.
"Whatever it is you're leading up to Monica, do not say he's a better skater than I am..." Chandler warned.
Monica's burst of laughter caused Ava's eyes to fly open wide for a second, so she paused to hush the child with a gentle caress before offering her husband reassurance.
"You're kidding right? The guy's almost as bad as Ross!" The humor in her voice faded quickly and she gazed up at him, explaining coyly, "I was just thinking about that night because I remember how I spent the whole evening missing you... and wanting you..."
"OK. You can keep talking.." he agreed, placing a soft kiss on her forehead.
Her eyes misted over as she continued to reminisce, "Then Richard said something about babies; I can't remember what it was; I just remember that I'd seen you hanging out with Ben earlier that day, and you guys were just so cute, you made me feel all... broody. I'd looked at you and I just knew you would make the best dad. I remember sitting by the rink and wishing so hard that one day, you and I would be back here with our own baby".
She sighed and looked down at Ava, who was right on the cusp of deep slumber, and her eyes glistened with utter adoration.
"Then the next year we came back here; me, you, Ben and Joey; and I was so happy that we were together, and that the divorce had come through... but, God, I was so sad too",
Despite the happy-ever-after that lay peacefully in her arms, recalling the pain of that year brought a hint of a quiver to Monica's voice and Chandler examined her face with tenderness.
"And then the year after that, you didn't go ice skating at all." he reminded her, "You sat at home in your PJs and stuffed your face with donuts, because you had a little person growing inside of you."
He gave her tummy a gentle, demonstrative prod, and felt relieved when his soft reminder elicited a smile.
"I just can't believe it. I still can't believe she's here." she whispered.
When she was sure that Ava was soundly asleep, Monica carefully removed her from her breast and traced a soft fingertip over her velvet cheek and then down the sweep of her perfect little button nose.
Chandler instinctively stood and prepared the stroller so that Monica could ease the infant's tranquil little body inside, then he tucked blankets around her sleeping form, his gentle hands working quickly to keep her from the crisp evening air.
Monica watched him tend to the baby as she buttoned up her jacket, and the pure devotion in his eyes making her physically ache. She hooked her arm affectionately through his.
"I was totally right back then. You are the best dad. Me and Ava really are so lucky".
His chest flooded with indescribable warmth.
"I'd say I'm the lucky one" he told her for the millionth time, "I mean, I thought I was the luckiest guy in the world when I had one of you, and now I've got me a little pocket-sized version too!"
"I guess we're all pretty lucky", Monica reaffirmed with a loving smile.
Chandler kicked off the brake from the wheel of the stroller, and they began to wander in a homeward direction.
"When we come here next year Ava will be eighteen months old. She'll probably be walking!" Chandler remarked, finding it hard to imagine his tiny little daughter so big and mobile.
"We'll be able to pull her around on one of those little sleds!" Monica grinned.
"Oh my God! That's what we should have done with Ross!" Chandler realized.
The mental imagery sparked mutual sniggers, but then his voice became careful and quiet.
"Do you think that one year you might want to skip skating and eat donuts in your PJs again?"
A tense breathlessness took hold of Monica.
Of course she would.
"Of course I would" she whispered, but Chandler could see the terror in her eyes, "Is that what you want? You want us to try again?"
"Eventually. Maybe. Only if you do..." he assured her, "I mean, we have enough money saved up for a few more rounds of IUI. And I'd love for Ava to have a little brother or sister. I see how close you and Ross are, and hear about all the stuff you two got up to when you were kids... I guess I feel like I missed out on all that."
He shrugged and offered a wry smirk "I accept that tonight's probably not the best night to use you and Ross as an example of sibling harmony..."
Monica's smile was pensive.
"But, you know what? It'll be different for Ava than it was for me anyway: She'll be close with her cousins... and she has Tilly to play with too. And Joey..."
"I'd love to have another baby," Monica was a little surprised that she could speak the words so readily; there was a time when even a verbal declaration of hope felt too frightening and destructive. "I guess I just can't help but feel a little afraid, that's all. Afraid that I'll get all...obsessed... again".
"That's understandable." Chandler nodded before gently suggesting, "Do you think it might feel different next time around though? Maybe a little less pressured?"
"Yeah, I think it probably would.." she smiled thoughtfully, "I mean, trying for a baby with you was a lot less traumatic than the first time I tried, because I had you there with me. And if we tried again we'd have Ava there with us too. That can only make it easier again, right?"
"I guess the way I look at it is that anything good that comes our way now is just a bonus", he concluded, "Because really, we've already got it all".
Monica squeezed his arm as tight as she could and smiled at the angelic little face fast asleep in the stroller. "Yeah, we have"
Chandler peered into the stroller too, reaching down to adjust the blankets around Ava's chin.
"Anyway, there's no huge rush to decide. We should probably just enjoy this one for a while. And besides, I'm not sure I like the idea of two lots of diapers to deal with." Chandler declared ponderously.
"You once told me you wanted twins!"
"That was before I knew you were gonna make me change 90% of the diapers." He fired her a teasing grin, knowing full well that this allegation would earn him an outraged shove.
"Oh my God! You are such a liar!"
"Just like I have to pick up 90% of the dog turds..." he continued with a downtrodden sigh.
The reference to Tilly caused Monica to glance down at her watch. "Yeah well, you'd better start walking a bit faster, or you'll be picking one of those up off of the living room floor when we get home".
When her gaze moved back to his sweet smile she was suddenly taken by the same urgent and intense rush of love that had surged through her veins as she'd watched him skating at the rink; but this time, with Ava still sleeping, thankfully they were distraction free.
"Come here", she murmured huskily grabbing a fistful of his jacket, dragging him close, and then capturing his lips in a lingering kiss that took him entirely by surprise and stole his breath. A blissful hum reverberated in his throat but then he suddenly startled.
"Woah! Wait a minute! We're making out?" he faltered, and she looked up at him with confusion as he pulled away.
He rushed to apply the brake on the stroller, his desperate haste rendering him so graceless and clumsy that she could not help but laugh. Finally, his face melted into a lopsided grin that radiated endless adoration and signaled his undivided attention, "OK Mrs Bing, we're good to go".
He cocooned her in his arms and she let herself dissolve against the softness of his gently parted lips and the warm solidity of his chest until she wasn't quite sure where she ended and where he began; and if it hadn't been for babies, and dogs, and freezing December air, she thought that she could quite happily have stayed like that forever.
Feathery snowfall eventually drew them apart, tiny icy flecks caressing their cheeks and coaxing their eyes heavenwards, hypnotic flakes beginning to drift lazily from the inky night sky.
Chandler returned his attention to his wife, kissing a fragile crystal of ice from the bridge of her nose before it had time to evaporate. "What was that all about?" he asked with a giddy grin.
"I dunno. You're just cute, and I love you, that's all," she smiled.
"How'd you manage to get the snow to start right on cue like that?" he teased, tousling a few sparkling crystals from her hair before taking hold of the stroller.
She smiled as she tiptoed to place one last sweet kiss against his lips, and looped their elbows together so that they could huddle as they walked.
"I think we're magic", she told him with a shrug.
A/N I hope that felt like a nice ending for Chandler and Monica. As much as I appreciated the adoption storyline in the show, I always felt so sad for Monica that she never had a pregnancy, since her longing for one had been a constant theme throughout. I put her through so much in this story I thought she deserved a little bit of magic here.
I was a little unsure of how to deal with Richard and Michelle, and I'm sure a few people would have preferred me to have been harsher with them. I just felt that punishment carries its own kind of power, and I didn't want Richard to end up some big scary villain that would hang over Chandler and Monica's lives, so instead I liked the idea of leaving him a little pathetic and powerless; not taking the opportunity to grow or change, and continuing to embarrass his kids. And as for Michelle, I like to think that the fact that her father continued to chase even younger women that she liked even less than Monica, might make her reconsider her previous behaviour at least.
So that's all!
Thank you so much to everyone who has stuck with such a very long story, and especially to those of you who have taken the time to be encouraging, I really do appreciate it.