Monica walked over to the fridge, jerked it open and grabbed out a bottle of water.

Men. They were all pigs. Liars and pigs. Even hunky firemen - who didn't come by at midnight in their big red ladder truck as promised. They hadn't shown up, and after giving them every benefit of the doubt and making every excuse in the book, the girls finally conceded that they never intended to really show up in the first place.

It was another fantastic ending to another crappy Valentine's Day. By 1:30 a.m. Phoebe decided to go home and Rachel decided she'd had enough and went to sleep. Monica stayed up a half-hour later, but about 15 minutes ago she gave up, too, and started getting ready for bed.

She walked over to lock the front door when it flew open and Chandler waltzed in.

"Hey," she said, stepping back in surprise. "What are you doing here? Now?"

"Saw the light was on under the door," he said, then added, sniffing. "It smells in here."

"Gee, thanks."

"Seriously, did you burn…something?" he asked, squishing his face up in mild disgust.

"We had a little…bonfire that went…wrong."

"Oh," was all he said as he brushed past her and plopped himself heavily down on her couch.

"Please, come on in," she said sarcastically as she shut the door behind him and shot eye darts at the back of his head. She unscrewed the cap on her water bottle. "I wasn't going to bed or anything."

He popped up and turned to her, burying one knee into the cushions and gripping the back of the couch with his hand. It was clear to her that he was all hyped-up about something.

"I'm sorry, OK, I'm sorry," he said quickly, then sighed. "I just…I broke up with Janice…tonight…again."

Monica couldn't stop the little smile that spread across her face. Of course he did. It was highly amusing how often those two were on-again, off-again. She needed to start laying odds and taking bets.

He cocked his head to one side and shot her an exasperated look, pretty much reading her thoughts.

"Mon!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she said, shaking her head and trying her best to make her face serious again as she walked over to the couch. "So…how'd she take it?"

He tossed a bag she just now noticed he was holding into the air from one hand to the other as he swiftly turned and sat back down. She sat next to him, bracing her back against the arm of the couch, crossing her legs crisscross-style in front of her.

"That's the thing," he said, pointing to her with the hand that was holding the bag. "She took it great. Really great!"

Monica was surprised to hear that. Usually there was a lot of drama involved when the two of them broke up. The high-pitched "oh my God's" were usually flying at a loud volume.

"That's great, Chandler," she said, slapping him on the knee. "Maybe now it's over and you're both really ready to move on."

"Oh, no, no, no," he said, talking fast and gesturing wildly with his hands. "See, she says it's not over. It's never over. She thinks that I…that I…la…la…that I…since I'm the one who keeps…bringing us back together…"

"Slow down," she said, laying her hand on his knee. "What now?"

Chandler took a deep breath, then looked at his clearly confused friend.

"She said that I just don't know that I…that I…la," he cleared his throat, then whispered, almost afraid somehow Janice would hear him, "love her."

Monica sat back and looked at him closely a minute, taking a sip from her water bottle.

"I mean, she's right," Chandler said, bouncing up from the couch, throwing the bag he was holding on the coffee table and starting to pace around the living room. Monica's eyes followed him. "I'm the one who asked her to New Year's Eve. I'm the one who asked her to…stay last night."

He turned around then sat back down, right in front of Monica, leaning toward her. He had such a terrified and earnest look on his face that Monica couldn't help but feel sorry for him.

"I mean, is she right?" he asked, really expecting an answer from Monica. "Is it…do I keep…doing these things because I…can I really be in love with her and not know it?!"

Monica screwed the cap back on her water bottle and set it down on the coffee table, then she shrugged.

"I don't know, Chandler," she said, honestly. "I guess…I suppose it's possible…"

The look of terror intensified.

"Or not," she said, quickly, placing her hand back on his knee. "Look, OK, um, let's see…ah, OK, when you…when you think of your…future, is she in it?"

"What future?"

"Your future."

"I don't…think about my…you mean like, like…getting married and kids and stuff?"

"Yes," she said, rolling her eyes at him. "That's what I mean."

"I don't think about that," he said, averting his eyes and recoiling, his hands pointing at his chest. "You think about that. Women. Women think about that…oh God, do you think she thinks about that?!"

"Of course she does, Chandler," Monica sighed, completely at a loss to explain how men ever functioned in the world around them.

Suddenly his palms felt clammy and he started to hyperventilate. He put a hand to his forehead. Her eyes widened and she quickly handed him her water bottle, taking off the cap for him. He gratefully took a swig.

"Calm down," she said as he started taking deep breaths, his freak-out subsiding.

Finally she asked, gently, "do you think you might be in love with her?"

He took one more long drink. Then he screwed the top back on the bottle and set it next to the bag on table.

"I don't know," he said, slowly, much calmer and more contemplative than he had been since he'd implored Janice to "call him" when she left the coffee house hours earlier, setting off his current tailspin.

He looked at Monica, who was clearly expecting a better answer, and grinned sheepishly.

"That is something that I should actually know, right?" he asked. "I mean, don't you think I should know?"

"Yeah," she said, grinning back at him. "I think when you know, you just know."

"You really believe that?"

"I really do," she said.

"Well I don't," he said, then clarified, "I mean, I don't know if I do or I don't…so…"

"So," she said softly. "I think you have your answer."

"Then, why?" he asked after a moment, searching her eyes for a clue. "Why do I keep…calling and…getting involved with her again just to…end up here? Again?"

"Oh, hey, look," she said, cocking her head to the side and smiling a little. "You have a…history together, ya know? There's a comfort level there and, obviously, you have some…chemistry working between you two…"

"Obviously," he said, rolling his eyes at that.

She smirked at him.

"What I mean is…she's…safe," she said. "She's safe for you and you're safe for her. It's not a risk to call her up on New Year's or to, well, ya know…"

He smirked at her as she briefly squirmed a little.

"The real risk, Chandler, is moving on and trying to find real love," she said. "The one when you just know. The person you can picture yourself getting married to and having babies with..."

"Whoa! That's your dream, Mon. Your dream," he said, waving his hands in front of him. She sighed heavily and rolled her eyes again. He grinned and patted her leg.

"OK. Well," he said with a small chuckle, taking a deep breath as a shiver ran down his spine. "I know I'm not...there."

She shook her head "no", then smiled at him.

He smiled back at her, then picked up the bag on the coffee table, seeing for the first time a small, burnt ring in the wood from the destroyed trash can.

"Wow," he said, pointing to the ring. "What the hell happened?"

"Oh!" she said with an aggravated wave of her hand. "Phoebe thought we could cleanse our past love lives with a bonfire and Rachel poured pure alcohol in it. We even had the fire department here…."

"Really?"

"Yeah, and they were supposed to come back…" she started, then stopped herself. She didn't really want to get into the humiliation of being stood-up by the hot firefighters, thereby giving him sarcastic joke ammunition for days.

Chandler looked at her quizzically, then his lopsided grin came across his face.

"You know, once the fire is out their job is usually, ah, pretty much done."

She playfully slapped his arm and smirked back at him.

He winked at her then stood and stretched a bit.

She followed suit, stifling a yawn, then she put a hand on his arm.

"You gonna be OK?" she asked.

"Yeah, yeah," he said, giving her a hug. "Thanks, Mon."

"Sure," she said, squeezing him back for a moment before letting go. They walked toward the front door and the bag made a crackling noise as he shifted it from one hand to another before turning the knob.

"Hey," she asked, her curiosity getting the best of her. "What's in there?"

"Oh," he sighed, face turning a little pink. He held the transparent bag up for her to see.

She squinted a little.

"Chan & Jan 4-Ever," she read, then gave him a sympathetic smile. "Oh, my…"

"Um hum," he said, shaking his head, then he broke open the plastic. "Want one?"

"Oh, no, maybe you should keep them in case, ya know…"

He raised his eyebrows at that and she giggled.

"Come on," he said, pulling some out and handing them to her. "Have a heart. Or two. Or twelve."

She smiled, looking down at the little letters written on the candy hearts. Most said "Chan & Jan 4-Ever" but there were some that read "Be Mine." She picked two of them and tossed them into her mouth.

"Thanks," she murmured.

"You're welcome," he said, popping a couple into his mouth, too, then adding in a mumble. "There's more where that came from, ya know."

She waved one hand in a stop motion, the other one cupping the candies.

"I'm good," she said, grinning at him.

He stepped over to her anyway and gave her a few more hearts, then quickly kissed her forehead.

"Happy Valentine's Day," he said, with a grin.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Chandler," she said, smiling and holding up the hearts in her hand. "Thanks."

He smiled and nodded at her, then turned and walked out the door.

"Night," he called from across the hall.

"Good night," she said with a little wave before she closed the door.

She locked it behind him, then hit the light switch. She walked over to the coffee table to grab her water bottle, tucking it under her arm, and then made her way to her bedroom. She turned back toward the living room, looking down at the little hearts in the moonlight from the window. She picked out another one that said "Be Mine" then glanced a moment at the front door.

Monica smiled, then popped the candy into her mouth, thinking that this Valentine's Day may not have ended so badly after all...