The Runaway Bride's Spying Eye

Rachel Green bunched her dress up in her arms as she ran across the street and tried to dodge the fat, hot, odorous, late summer raindrops that only seemed to exist in New York City. She said a silent prayer as she hoped that she would not trip over herself in the middle of the road on her way to the coffee shop. If she were not in such a state of panic, she would have laughed at the imagery that played out briefly in her head; a runaway bride, sprawled out on the concrete, her dress a ruffled, muddy mess as taxi cabs and bike messengers swerved to avoid hitting her. It would be the latest catastrophe and the cherry on top of what had become the worst day of her life. Falling down in the street would be a fitting, final humiliation that she would suffer thanks to her impulsive actions that led her here to Greenwich Village.

Earlier today, everything was going according to plan. She was getting married and upon one last inspection, she was satisfied that her dress looked impeccable. Her bridesmaids were still sober, though for how long after the ceremony, she could not say. Her entire family was in attendance; uncles, aunts, cousins, all swelling with pride. Her father was ready to walk her down the aisle while her sisters died of envy as they watched her, knowing that she was marrying a doctor. She could already hear the music from the string quartet through the walls, a magical backdrop to her impending nuptials. It was all so perfect, until it was not.

She remembered how her downward spiral had started. The photographer signaled to her that he was finished taking his pre-ceremony photos and she found herself with a few minutes alone. It was then that Rachel decided that rather than go back upstairs to be with her bridesmaids before they all had to walk down the aisle, she would sneak off to the reception hall and take a quick peek at all the gifts that her and Barry's guests had dropped off.

Once she entered the room, she spun around. It was quiet, grand and elegant all at once; aided by the low light and empty seats that were to be filled soon with well-wishers, loud music and congratulatory cheers. She marveled at it all as she ran her fingers along the gift-boxes and smiled. Rachel loved getting presents, and since she did the registry all by herself, there would be no need to return anything. Best of all, she knew exactly how much people spent on each one.

She held a medium sized box in her hands and convinced herself that there would be no harm in taking a peek at just one present. It would be like opening one gift up on Christmas eve. A taste of what was to come. It was not one of the big presents anyway and she was certain no one would notice if it went missing. She excitedly ripped off the wrapping paper and ribbon as she dug into the box, pulling out a gorgeous, ornate gravy boat. She took quick, exhilarated breaths as she held it tightly in her hands. It was beautiful. She knew it would be beautiful. She picked it out.

It filled her with such excitement to hold that gravy boat in her hands. The rush of knowing that everything here was exactly what she wanted sent tingles up and down her legs. Suddenly, she became very aware that she seemed more excited about the gravy boat than she did about the wedding. That the tingling sensation she felt over this stupid, gorgeous gravy boat is what she should have felt for her soon-to-be husband. Suddenly, a thought popped in her head; did she want the gravy boat and everything that went along with getting married more than she wanted Barry?

She slumped back against the wall and felt dizzy. Before she could even process what she was thinking, a voice inside her head told her she was making a terrible mistake. It told her that everything she had done since high school has been one mistake after another, and it all led her here. The room felt as if it was getting hot and she could not breathe. She was then overcome with this overpowering desire to get outside as fast as she could.

If someone were to ask her, she would not be able to say, with specificity, exactly what it was that compelled her to flee. Maybe it was the gravy boat that she tossed aside as she ran to the bathroom, climbed out of the window and dropped down to the alley behind the catering hall. Before she could even process what she was doing, she was several blocks away running towards freedom, and for the first time in years, she finally felt like she could breathe again.

She ran down a few more blocks and then stopped and looked around. She held her side as she felt a dull cramp start to form, and while she tried to catch her breath, she could not help but allow a slight smile to spread across her lips. It seemed, the farther away from the hall she got, the better she felt. Her smile faded quickly when she realized, she had nowhere to go. Everyone she knew in the entire world was back in that very building she was running away from. None of them would look at her without a judgmental eye. None of them would understand the panic that compelled her to run. None of them would offer valuable counsel or sanctuary. Instead, they would try to convince her to go through with the wedding. They would explain to her that she was just experiencing some pre-wedding jitters. Cold feet. That it was normal. But she knew that wasn't true. Rachel knew it the moment she held that gravy boat in her hand; she was not in love with Barry anymore. Maybe, she never was.

She looked around at the other people bustling through the city sidewalks. None of them gave her a second glance. She found that to be so strange; it was late afternoon as she stood there, wearing a wedding gown, in mid-town Manhattan. She wondered if this kind of chaos was common for the average New Yorker or if they were simply so cold and cynical, that they could not even see her. It was the perfect metaphor for her life. Over these last few years, no one she knew has been able to see her. Not the real her. She couldn't even see herself. She turned around in a circle, unsure of where she was going. There was no one she could turn to. No one who could offer her shelter from the storm she had brought into her life. No one to help her find out who she was supposed to be.

Then, she remembered being in the city one night, over a year ago, when she saw Monica Geller in some seedy bar. Monica was here, living in Manhattan, and she was not at the wedding. It felt like fate. She would help her. She had to. There was no one else who could. Rachel was confidant that no matter how much time had passed since they last saw each other, Monica would be there for her. It's what she did. She helped people. She befriended the friendless. She would be Rachel's safety net. She would be her savior.

Before she knew it, she found herself running through Greenwich Village. She had talked to some man with a big hammer at Monica's apartment building, and he directed her to the coffee house across the street. And now, here she was, running across the street, soaked from the rain, and praying that an old friend would be there to save her. A far cry from where she was just a few short hours ago.

She reached the coffee house and burst into the door like a desperate cannonball of white lace. She heard voices overlapping and was overcome by the smell of fresh brewed coffee and baked goods as she frantically started to look around the lobby.

"Rachel?"

Never before had the sound of someone's voice left her so relieved.

"Oh God! Monica! Hi!"

Monica had come over to her, grabbed her gently by the arm, and led her to the group of people she was with. Rachel was not paying attention as she was introduced to everyone, and she was not sure what she was going to say. All that she knew, was that she was safe. At least, for now.

"…and now I don't know what to do." Rachel finished her decaf coffee and put the cup down on the table in front of her. Five pairs of eyes were fixated on her and she could feel their gaze burning through her. It took all of her self-restraint not to snap at them to back off; commanding them to give her space and a moments respite, but she knew that she was in no place to make demands. In a way, these were the only five people in the world that she could trust right now.

She looked over at Monica for some sort of guidance as to what she should do next. Monica, in turn, looked past her as she seemed to be looking at someone else who must have been standing right over Rachel's shoulder. Monica twisted her face in apprehension and shrugged. Rachel turned and saw Chandler behind her, but his focus was on Monica. He appeared to be answering her back with a lift of his eyebrows and a nod. It was as if they were having an entire conversation without saying a word to each other.

Monica cleared her throat and took Rachel's hand in hers as she fixated her sympathetic eyes on Rachel. "I think you better call someone. Your mom and dad must be worried sick about you."

Ross nodded in agreement. "Yeah, that's a good idea. There's a payphone back by the bathrooms here. Does anybody have any quarters?"

Chandler winced at Ross's idea and then gestured towards Monica. "Hey, why don't you take her back to your place. Might be more private. Joey and I will take care of everything here."

Joey looked over at Chandler and spoke in a low, embarrassed tone. "Oh, uh, actually, I don't really have any…"

Before Joey could finish, Chandler cut him off as he pulled out his wallet. "Or, I guess, I can take care of everything here."

Monica chuckled and got up, grabbing her purse. "Come on Rach. You can use my phone." She walked over to Chandler and put her hand on his arm. "Thanks. I owe you one."

"More than one. But who's keeping count?"

"You apparently."

Rachel observed them and was bemused as Monica allowed her hand to linger on Chandler's arm. The two of them quietly laughed and she saw Monica squeeze at the fabric of his shirt. He smiled at her with this soft, almost understated confidence in his eyes, and then, as quickly as it began, they separated and the moment was over.

Rachel shook her head and looked around the room at the others, but no one else seemed to notice, or care at what appeared to be a public display of intimacy between the two of them. She could not help but wonder to herself if maybe Monica and Chandler were some kind of item, but quickly dismissed the idea as there was no kiss goodbye or term of endearment shared between them. Briefly, she felt the overpowering urge to find out more, and squeeze the juicy gossip out of the entire group, one-by-one. She quickly gave up that thought and resigned herself to the idea that she was seeing things that were not there. Her mind was still no doubt clouded from the euphoria and melancholia she experienced today and it was playing tricks on her.

Monica turned and grabbed Rachel by the hand, which snapped her from her reverie. "Come on Rach." Monica then turned her attention to the rest of the group. "I'll see you guys over there."

Rachel smiled and she looked over her shoulder at the others as Monica pulled her through the lobby and out of the coffee house.

When Rachel got off the phone with her father, she started to feel like the room was spinning and sat down at the kitchen table to steady herself. "What do I do?" She looked over at the others who were all seated in the living room and they stared back at her with blank faces. "I'm seriously asking you guys! What do I do?"

Monica got up from the chair and rushed into the kitchen. "Calm down. You'll be fine. You can stay here. It'll be okay. We will all help you figure this out. Won't we guys?"

The rest of the group quietly groused, but then quickly nodded and affirmed Monica's presumption with a chorus of "Yeah" and "Of course" once she shot each of them a commanding glare.

Rachel buried her face in her hands. "What if I made a huge mistake?"

Ross stepped closer to Rachel and placed his drink down beside her. "Well, if it was a mistake, and you end up going back to Barry, it'll make for a great story for your grandkids."

Monica and Rachel both looked up at him and scowled. Rachel then grabbed at Monica's arm for support. "I'm so scared and tired and I feel like I can't breathe, and I'm kind of hungry and I think I need a shower."

Joey pointed at her. "Hungry! Finally, she said something I understand."

Chandler smirked as he looked down and then walked into the kitchen. He placed his hand around the small of Monica's back to get her attention and leaned in over her shoulder as he spoke softly to her. "Hey, Joey and I just bought some cold cuts and bread and stuff. It was mostly for Joe, so, you know that means we have enough for everyone. How about I bring it over and we can make some sandwiches?"

Monica put her hand on his chest and nodded. "That'd be a great idea. We could all probably use something eat."

Rachel looked up and watched them again. This time, to try and get more clarity on what exactly was going on between them. Monica's hand lingered much too long on Chandler's chest for what happened in the coffee house to be some misconception on Rachel's part. Monica and Chandler then looked around at the rest of the group for approval, as if they themselves were unaware at how close they were to each other. She narrowed her eyes as she noticed that he still had his hand on her back and hers was still on his chest, playing with a button on his shirt. It was as if they were all oblivious to this series of gentle touches they shared. Somehow, only Rachel was privy to this familiar nature that seemed to flow between the two of them.

"Hey! Are you two giving away my pastrami?" Joey hopped up from the couch and stomped over to the kitchen, his abrasive tone broke the quiet in the room and Monica and Chandler separated again.

Chandler shook his head and started towards the door. "Relax Joe. It's for a good cause."

Joey followed him as the two of them prepared to leave the apartment. "What cause?"

Monica turned to face Joey and glared at him with a stern pair of eyes. "It's for the 'if you don't do it, I'll never make another lasagna for Joey ever again' foundation."

Joey paused at the door and looked down as he reluctantly nodded. "That is actually a very good cause."

Before the two men could exit the apartment, Rachel raised her fists up in excitement as an expression of clarity shined upon her face. "Chandler!"

Chandler stood in the doorway and looked back at her, confused. "Uh, yeah?"

"You're Chandler!" Chandler looked at Joey and Joey shrugged his shoulders in response. Rachel clapped her hands together and smiled triumphantly. "Now I know where I know you from. You were Ross's friend from college."

"Yes, I was. I'm glad I made such a strong impression that it only took you four hours to remember that."

"I knew I recognized you. Wow. It's been years since we last saw each other."

"Actually, I saw you at the bar that night too. You know, when you ran into Monica."

"What? No. I'd remember."

Chandler held his head crooked and spoke in a monotone voice. "No. Please. Stop. You're inflating my ego too much. I won't be able to fit my head out of this door."

Monica chuckled and shook her head. "Rach, he was there that night. Remember? His hair was shorter and he had a goatee. We were playing pool."

Rachel turned to look at Monica. "Really? I thought that was a boyfriend of yours or something." She then turned to look at Chandler. "Jeez, how many different hairstyles have you had?"

Joey chortled and slapped Chandler on the back while Ross and Phoebe snickered.

Chandler pointed at Joey. "Ow." He then pointed at Rachel. "And, ow to that!" Chandler then gestured towards everyone in the room. "Ow to all of you."

Monica laughed and pointed towards the open door. "Just go get the food."

Rachel looked around the room one more time and then her face went white. "Oh God. I think I'm going to throw up."

Monica jumped up from her chair in a panic. "Get her a bag!"

Rachel's mind became a haze of muddled thoughts and muffled voices. She had a hard time concentrating on anything anyone else was talking about. She settled back into the chair and placed the paper bag she was breathing into on the table. She was unsure of what to do next. She had no clothes, no money, and no idea if her family was ever going to talk to her again. It made it very difficult to have the energy to listen as everyone talked about Spanish soap operas or for her to care that Joey and Monica argued about how long after her wedding day, he could hit on her. The only noise that brought her back into reality was the incessant buzzing of the intercom.

Chandler pressed the button and leaned into the box. "Please don't do that again. It's a horrible sound." He seemed to echo her exact thoughts at that very moment.

"Uh, It's Paul."

Monica jumped up. "Oh my god! Its 6:30? Buzz him in!"

Rachel looked up, puzzled at why everyone was saying the name Paul so much. She tried to listen, but she still had a hard time focusing on everything else that was going on around her. She was too lost inside her own troubled mind.

Monica caught Rachel's eye as she began to speak to her. "Rach, wait, I can cancel…"

Before she knew what she was saying, Rachel shook her head. "Please. No. Go." She had no idea what she was agreeing to, until the door opened and a tall, handsome man stepped inside the apartment. Everyone made quite a commotion about it, and she smiled when she thought it was appropriate, but soon enough, Rachel stopped paying attention and disappeared back inside her own head.

Before she knew it, everyone had left the apartment. Monica was out on her date with Paul and the guys were on their way to help Ross assemble some furniture. Phoebe was the only one to stay behind. Rachel was not sure if that was a good thing, because Phoebe did not seem to be all there. Rachel smiled nervously at her. "I guess, maybe I'll take a shower."

"Oh! If you want, I can help you find some clothes in Monica's room. I even know where she keeps the good stuff, not just sweats and pajama tops."

"Thanks. I suppose I'll have to go home to get some of my things at some point. Oh my God. What am I doing? I'm basically homeless."

"If staying in this nice apartment is what is considered homeless now, then I'd hate to know what you would call living out on the street like I did when I was younger."

Rachel exhaled a chuckle and nodded, but then stopped as she allowed a bemused look to cross her face. "What?"

Phoebe then bounced excitedly in her seat. "Oh! Let's try on some of Monica's jeans and shoes!"

Rachel studied Phoebe as she prepared to leave for the night. There was nothing about this woman that Rachel would typically find endearing. She said strange things. She wore more rings than any person she ever knew. She had no fashion sense. She plucked invisible objects from the air. She was flaky and had trouble concentrating on one story at a time. She was odd and off-putting and Rachel was sure that she might be on drugs. Yet, despite herself, Rachel could not help but find Phoebe so refreshing and enjoyable to be around. She was everything Rachel wanted to be. She was free to be herself and had no trace of self-consciousness about it. She looked like she did not care about what anyone else thought about her. Rachel wanted to be that confident in who she was. She wanted that sense of self that Phoebe seemed to exude out of every pore. Of course, Rachel knew, that in order to be like that, she had to find out exactly who she was first.

Phoebe pulled a bag over her shoulder and stepped towards the kitchen. "Okay, well, I'm going to go unless you need me to stay."

"No, I'll be fine. I'm really tired and out of it, I'll probably just fall asleep."

"Okay, well if you need me, just follow the singing you hear coming from underground."

"What?"

"Oh, well, sometimes I like to sing in the subway for the people getting on and off the trains."

"Oh, for tips."

"Well, yeah, but mostly for their well-being. Sort of a good karma, bad karma thing."

"Right."

Phoebe moved her guitar case from the living room into the kitchen by the door and then walked back to retrieve her jacket.

Rachel bit at her thumbnail, but then sat up. "Phoebe? What, uh, well, what is the deal with everyone?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know, like Joey and Chandler."

"Oh, they aren't lovers if that is what you were thinking."

"What?"

"I mean, Chandler might be okay with it, but Joey, well, he is all man."

"Uh, okay. That wasn't exactly what I meant. Is anybody here dating anyone else?"

"What?"

Rachel pulled at her shirt and waved her arms as she laughed. "I don't know. I'm probably just seeing things. I guess, for a minute, I thought maybe Monica and Chandler were…" she let her voice trail off and Phoebe started to snicker.

"Monica and Chandler? Oh, no. They have totally different chakras."

"Right. No, I know that. Well, not the thing about the chakras. I have no idea what those are. I'm sure I'm still messed up from today. Don't mind me."

Phoebe shrugged and waved goodbye as she walked out the door. Rachel sat there and settled back into the big comfy chair. She thought about today and everything she had seen. Monica had this rich, menagerie of friends. Rachel thought of her own friends for a comparison, and could only frown in disdain. They were not real friends. She had no connection with any of them, save that they all wanted to marry a doctor. It was not what it seemed like Monica had with her circle of friends. She definitely did not have someone she felt as comfortable around as it seemed Monica was with Chandler.

She laughed as she started to remember everything about Monica and Chandler's past that she did know. Rachel smacked her head lightly as she realized that Monica hated him when they were younger. And how could she have forgotten the entire toe cutting incident. Of course, they were not dating. No one could get over all of that. Yet she wondered, how did they get so close? They looked to have their own secret language, and were much too comfortable invading each other's space to be just friends.

She let her mind go back to that night when she saw Monica at the bar. She was certain that the man she was with back then was her boyfriend. They stood close together and grabbed at each other playfully. Their hands made contact in soft, familiar ways, without actually linking them together. But then, Rachel remembered that, no, he was not her boyfriend. Rachel distinctly asked Monica if she was seeing anyone, which seemed to agitate her a bit. Their entire, brief conversation about dating appeared to put Monica on edge.

How could she not remember that it was Chandler there that night? Even then, through the fog of a few drinks, Rachel should have realized who he was. She wondered, have they been this close all this time? Are they always huddled up together, laughing and seeming to be closer than Rachel had been with anyone else in a long time? They were certainly closer than she was to Barry.

She realized, that this kind of close friendship must be what she had been missing all these years. Then, it dawned on her. The last time she had someone that she could confide in and be herself around, was when she was still friends with Monica. It all made sense now. Of course, they were not interested in each other. That was just how Monica could make someone feel when she was their friend. She pulled that level of friendship out of other people. Rachel missed that. The feeling of being totally comfortable with a friend. Now that she was here, she was determined not to lose that ever again.

Rachel felt frightened, which was an odd sensation to have after cutting a piece of plastic in two. These credit cards represented more than the department stores and the bottomless cash reserves she has been used to. They were more than boots, designer jeans, and jewelry. They were her safety net. Now, she was going to be walking a tightrope with no one to catch her. Or at least, that is what she thought until Monica hugged her tightly.

After all she had done to her; drifting away, not returning phone calls, forgetting to invite her to her wedding, Monica was still there for her. Ready to support her in any way she could. Monica was amazing. She was the best friend anyone could ask for. Unwavering, loyal and so kind. Rachel knew that Monica did not deserve to be used by a guy like Paul. Monica deserved to find someone who would take care of her just as well as she took care of them.

The rest of the evening was quiet. They all watched some bad shows on television, which seemed to provide this group with endless amusement. They snacked on chips and drank beer. They squabbled and told jokes and would pair up as they shared stories from the last few years. Rachel was immediately falling in love with these people. They were so warm and accepting. They treated her as if she was always there. As if she was already an established member of the group. They were funny and ridiculous and childish in a way that was infectious and not contrite. Above all else, it was amazing to see five people so close. Rachel wanted to be a part of that.

As the night went on, she observed that no one in the group seemed to be as close as Monica and Chandler were. There was never a moment where they didn't make sure to look at each other when they made a joke. Almost like they were searching for each other's approval, or that the joke they made was really only for each other, even though they said them to the rest of the group. They stole small touches when they walked past each other. They shared a beer and refilled each other's glass when one of them went into the kitchen. At one point in the night, they even shared the big comfy chair, their legs draped over each other as their bodies seemed to fuse together. Monica laid her head on his shoulder and nodded off and Chandler appeared to stay so stiff and rigid in his seat as if he was determined not to disturb her, to the point that he seemed sore after she woke up and he stretched as he walked around the apartment. How did two people who clearly did not like each other all those years ago get this close?

She obsessed over the friendship of these two and it was a welcome distraction from thinking about her own problems. She still had to disentangle her life from Barry, face her relatives, figure out what to do for money, and, worst of all, return the gifts. Yet, even with all of that looming over her, she felt a sense of relief. It was as if Monica and Chandler's friendship gave her hope. If these two can make it here from where they started, then surely, Rachel could get there too and find something that authentic with someone. It was the first time Rachel let herself think that she may have made the right decision when she ran out on her wedding.

Rachel's first day of work at Central Perk was almost complete. She knew she was not very good at it, but she did not care. It was a job, her job. No one could take that feeling of accomplishment away from her, even if she was fired today, she would always remember her first real job.

She had a bounce in her step as she darted around the lobby, and it was not because she refilled coffees and took orders for muffins and scones. It was because she had these five new friends. These people were kind to her and supportive and there was no exchange required for any of it, which she was used to with her sisters. A quid pro quo between siblings as they conspired behind their parents' backs. This was nothing like that. This was pure friendship. There was no need to reciprocate. No need to promise anything in return. It felt refreshing and wonderful to be surrounded by this group of people who were letting her discover who she was going to be on her own schedule.

She owed it all to Monica. She had no idea how she was going to repay her, but she knew that she would figure it out.

One by one, everyone left, until only Monica remained. Rachel was suspicious of her new roommate and wondered if she hung around the coffee house all day so that Rachel would have a familiar, friendly face to look at on her first day of work. The last few minutes of her shift ticked away and she was finally able to sit down next to Monica without the admonishing eyes of her boss burrowing through the back of her head.

"How are you?"

"Ugh. You haven't been around these last few years, but this entire Paul fiasco is pretty common for me. I seem to only attract the worst guys who end up not really giving a damn about me or my feelings. I am this magnet for scum."

"I'm sorry sweetie, but you know that's not true. I'm here, and at least you have the rest of the guys."

"Yeah. I guess."

Rachel looked off to the side and tried to lighten the mood. "What were you and Joey arguing about before?"

"When?"

"Earlier today?"

Monica chuckled to herself as she stretched her arm along the back of the couch. "He was mad because I didn't think he had a great butt."

"Joey? Uh, yeah he does. He has this nice, round, bubble of a firm butt. Sometimes I just want to squeeze it."

Monica laughed, but then quickly twisted her face in disgust. "Eww. Rachel. You don't know where that things been."

"You really don't like it?"

"It's fine, I guess it isn't my cup of tea."

"Well, who has a great butt as far as you're concerned?"

"What do you mean?"

"Out of the guys."

"Eww. I'm not going to rate my brother's butt."

Rachel started to look around the coffee shop. "Oh, that's right. Okay, uh…" Rachel pointed at a man standing at the counter. "Okay, sub him in for your brother. Rank the butts."

"Okay." Monica tilted her head to study the man's behind as he faced the opposite direction. "I'd say, this guy comes in third. Joey is number two, and I guess that leaves Chandler as number one."

"Really? Chandler?"

Monica shrugged her shoulders. "Yeah, I guess. He has this kind of unassuming quality to him. Like, Joey knows he looks good and it's kind of turns me off, but Chandler has no idea that he is nice to look at too. He just sits there thinking he's invisible or something, but he can be really handsome."

Rachel laughed and Monica slapped her on the arm playfully as she joined in and giggled. It felt like home to Rachel. It was as if they never skipped a beat and were back in high school, gossiping about the boys they knew and talking about who was the best looking. Still, it was a little different today than it was all those years ago. Normally, Rachel would try to go out with whoever they agreed was the hottest one, but that was not her focus today. She still needed to know if the knowing glances, soft touches and secret smiles could turn into something more, and as far as Rachel was concerned, Monica choosing Chandler over Joey was the final push she needed to go forward with her plan.

Rachel owed Monica, and Monica did not deserve to go out and get hurt by all the Pauls of the world, and she definitely did not deserve to settle for one of the Barrys. Monica deserved to be happy and she deserved to be with someone she felt close to, who made her laugh and feel comfortable in her own skin. Someone that she thought was attractive and that she loved to spend time with. And now, Rachel knew exactly how she was going to pay Monica back for all her kindness. She was going to get Monica and Chandler together.

A/N – This story is born from the last chapter I wrote in my pre-mondler series. The idea that an outsider would see the sparks and the chemistry between Monica and Chandler that the viewers, and especially Mondler fans, see. So, instead of inventing some new character I thought we should go all the way back to the beginning and use what seems like the perfect outsider who was already a part of the group.

Now, I don't write Rachel a lot, only because I am still a bit self-conscious about whether or not I have her "voice". I want to stay true to her character, but this story was growing and growing so fast, I had to start writing it. Now, while Rachel is making it her mission to get Monica and Chandler together, Ross is still out here with his own unrequited love, and I will cover that as well.

I haven't decided if each chapter will be an episode from season one or not, and I will mostly write around canon scenes, yet, as this story goes on, and the character's choices change from the show, things will get jumbled in the way I did for some other AUs like The Butterfly Effect.

I will try to update this at least once every week or so and still keep up with my other ongoing stories. As always, thank you for taking the time to read, and an extra thank you to anyone who leaves a review.