Monica's Future:

            "Well?" Monica asked anxiously as Jake, her head waiter, walked into the kitchen.

            "Well, they love it," Jake announced with a wink.  "I swear, Monica, I didn't think I could hear more lofty compliments than they had about the main course, but I think a couple of them might have actually had orgasms over that dessert."

            "Really?" Monica asked, her voice rising toward a squeal as a grin spread across her face.  "You wouldn't lie about this, would you Jake?"

            "Really," Jake assured her seriously.  "I've worked here for five years, Monica, and I've never seen a more impressive dinner."

            Monica clasped her hands together, breathing a sigh of relief.  She had jumped at the opportunity to be a private chef, but she had never imagined it would be quite this stressful to put together an elaborate banquet for 200.  It made her a little queasy to know that this was only the first of many such evenings.

            With a deep breath, Monica steadied her nerves once again and struggled to regain her air of professionalism.  She turned to her smiling staff, who had been waiting just as eagerly as she had for the report from the banquet room.

            "Congratulations," she said with a grin as she looked at each of them.  "Our first dinner together was a success!" 

            The announcement was met with cheers.  Monica basked in the heady feeling of success for a moment before holding up her hand to get their attention.

            "Now for the best part – the clean up!" she announced excitedly, glancing around in surprise when groans erupted from the group in front of her.  Before she could go any further, Jake walked back into the kitchen with an even bigger smile than before.

            "Monica," he called out.  "There's someone here who wants to compliment the chef!"

            Monica turned around, her eyes wide.  "Really?"

            "Yes," came her boss's voice, as he stepped into the kitchen behind Jake.  "That was a wonderful meal, Chef Geller.  I received compliments on the food from everyone in attendance an I thought it only fair that I pass them on to the deserving party."  He paused and gave her a quick wink.  "I'm already looking forward to the next one."

            Monica managed a smile, her mouth dry.  Unsure of how she should respond, she nervously clasped her hands in front of her and gave her new employer a kind of bow with her head.  Swallowing hard, she forced herself to speak.

            "Thank you, Mr. President."

            "I think it went well, Mom," Monica commented into her cell phone as she drove home later that evening.  "The President even came back to the kitchen to compliment me!"

            "Monica, dear, we're so proud of you," Judy said fondly.  "Imagine, my daughter cooking meals for the President of the United States!"

            "I know!" Monica crowed, the compliment from her mother just as important to her as the one from the President, rare as they had been while she was growing up.  "Tell you what, Mom, I'll cater your next party, just so you can tell your guests that their food was cooked by the President's chef."

            "Darling, that's a great idea!" Judy exclaimed, undeniably pleased by the prospect of impressing her friends.  "I can't wait to show you off to everyone."

            "I've got to go, Mom," Monica said as she pulled into the driveway of her new house in an upscale Georgetown neighborhood.  "Give Dad my love, okay?  And tell Ross hello."

            "I will, sweetie," Judy said, her voice soft.  "Congratulations on tonight."

            "Thanks, Mom," Monica replied, feeling a lump come into her throat.  "Goodnight."

            "Goodnight."

            Monica flipped her phone shut and sat in the car for a moment, reflecting. 

            Her mother was proud of her.  That alone was enough to make her feel successful. 

End Monica's Future – Back to the Present:

"The President," Chandler said, glancing up at the sky as if searching for something funny to say.  "That's pretty cool," he finally commented, at a loss.

"So were you having a secret affair with him?" Rachel asked eagerly, sure there had to be dirt somewhere.

"No," Monica answered, giving her a dirty look.  "What makes you think that?"
            "Because otherwise that little dream of yours is just too goody-two-shoes to be true."

"What?  Of course it's true!"

Rachel narrowed her eyes, suddenly suspicious.  Monica glanced away, hoping they would all let the subject drop.

"Isn't it funny?" she asked instead, hoping to divert the conversation from herself.  "How different things turned out for all of us?"

"You're still a great chef," Chandler commented with a sweet little grin, "and Ross is still a dinosaur freak."

"And I'm in fashion, even if I'm not a designer," Rachel said thoughtfully, then looked appraisingly at Chandler.  "But Chandler…is definitely not a movie star.  He's just a – what is it you do again?"

"It's not our work lives that are so different from what we thought," Chandler said quietly, then quickly amended his statement after a glance at Rachel.  "Okay, except for mine.  It's our personal lives.  In that respect, none of us have lives like we thought we would." 

The four of them fell into a thoughtful silence, glancing around at each other and thinking about the things that had been revealed during the course of the afternoon.  Finally, Ross stood up and motioned toward the yard, ready to drop the subject. 

"We should probably finish up that last rosebush so we can head back to the city.  I don't know about you guys, but I'm ready for a shower."

"We'll get it," Monica cut in quickly, including Chandler in her offer.  "Why don't you and Rachel head on back?"

Ross looked to Rachel for her approval before nodding his agreement.  "Okay, if you're sure."

"Sure," Monica said firmly, ignoring the look Chandler was giving her.  "And why don't you come over for dinner – say, seven?  I'll cook you a feast fit for a president," she added with a wink.
            "No fish," Rachel cautioned her, gesturing toward her stomach.  "Dayton doesn't like fish."

"Dayton?" Ross repeated as Rachel stood.  "You're kidding, right?  There's no way we're naming our child Dayton."

"Don't you dare suggest we call this baby Rex, Ross," Rachel warned, their voices fading as they went into the house to bid Jack and Judy farewell.

"Okay, let's go get the bush," Chandler said, wearily turning back toward the yard.  "I'm ready to go home."

"Wait," Monica said softly, gently turning him to face her.  Standing on her tiptoes, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him hard, trying to put all the love she felt for him into that one moment.

"Thank you," she whispered in his ear, pecking him softly on the cheek as she pulled away from him. 

"For what?" Chandler asked innocently, brushing a strand of hair tenderly away from her face.

Monica smiled and placed a hand lovingly on his cheek.

"For making all my dreams come true," she told him.  "For giving me everything I ever wanted."

"But you – "

Monica stopped him with a gentle peck on the lips.  "Doesn't matter, Chandler.  My life is as close to perfect as it could ever be.  Because of you."

Chandler smiled and bowed his head to rest his forehead against hers.  "I love you so much."

"I love you," she replied emphatically with a tender half-smile.  "So much."

Monica kissed him one more time, then walked past him and out into the yard.  Chandler watched her for a moment, then turned to follow her.  As he walked off the porch, a slip of white paper caught his eye, and he leaned over to pick it up, not sure whether Monica dropped it by accident or left it there intentionally for him to find.  He picked up it up and turned it over, smiling at the messy, childish scrawl that was so different from his wife's neat, even script before noticing with surprise that there only two lines of writing on the paper.  Stopping in the middle of the yard, he stared at the paper in disbelief, then looked across the yard at Monica, who was watching him with a knowing smile on her face.

            He glanced back down at the paper in his hands and read the words again, swallowing to relieve the lump that was suddenly growing in his throat. 

            When I grow up, the letter said, I want to marry Chandler Bing.

AN:  Well, I think that was much better in theory than in reality, but…there it is.  =)  Please review!