What if things had occurred a little differently in London? Suppose Ross and Emily had gone on their honeymoon together, but only after Rachel confesses to Ross that she still has feelings for him. Ross, very confused, gets very angry with her. The rest of friends try to stick up for Rachel and defuse the situation but only anger and alienate Ross (and Emily) further from the remaining five friends, to the point where they're no longer talking. How will Ross react when he returns to New York five years later and see what he's missed out on? (M/C)

"And Doug wants these reconfigurations on his desk by Wednesday."

"Thank you, Harriet."

"I have that expense report ready for you to sign off on."

"Leave it on my desk and I'll get it back to you as soon as I finish this pile." I pat an unsteadily stacked pile of documents piled over my inbox. Harriet looks at it dubiously before rolling her eyes in resignation. Once again all her hard work will be forgotten by the time I reach it.

"Sorry." I smile apologetically. Harriet looks unimpressed. She glances down at the pad in her hand.

"Oh, and your wife called."

"Everything okay?"

Harriet shrugs. "She wanted you to pick up some asparagus and taffy."

I cringe. Yuck. God, I hope neither of those is on the dinner menu tonight.

"Okay, I'll put it on my list."

Harriet nods and makes a mark on her steno pad.

"Anything else?" I prompt, reaching for the July data report.

"No, Mr. Bing."

"All righty then." All righty then? Did I really just say that? Harriet rolls her eyes and lets herself out, closing the door behind her.

I manage to claim an hour and a half of peace and productivity before the ringing of the phone breaks my concentration. Probably Monica calling to add some more weird food choices to my list, or Joey, to beg me to pick up a pizza.

"Chandler Bing," I say nonchalantly into the receiver, fishing out the WENUS from under a pile of papers. For a moment it's so silent I wonder if I've been disconnected, but then there's the harsh crackle of someone clearing their throat and then,

"Ch-Chandler?"

"Yes. Who's this?"

And right after I say that it hits me why that voice sounds so familiar, although I haven't heard it for over five years.

"Uh, this is, uh, ahem, this is Ross."

"Ross?" I repeat incredulously, just to be sure. I lean back in my chair and toss my pen on the desk.

"Uh, yeah. Boy, am I glad I finally got a hold of someone." The voice that says that sounds tinny and self-conscious. "I've been trying for, like, days to get a hold of Monica and I can never reach her."

I'm pretty sure I know why that is, I want to say, but I keep quiet. "Yeah, she's probably not at the apartment," I say instead.

"Well, I tried to get a hold of her at work and they said she hasn't worked there for five months."

"Yeah. She got offered a great job in Manhattan."

"Really? That's- that's great."

"Yeah."

"So."

"So…?"

"So…"

"So, why are you calling?" I cut in, getting tired of running around this.

"Boy, you sure don't waste any time getting to the—"

"Ross. You haven't so much as written, seen, or spoken to any of us in five years. Five years!"

"I know, I—"

"I mean, we tried to keep in touch, but everything we did went unanswered and after awhile we just took the hint."

"I know. Listen, I—"

"Do you have any idea what's happened in five years?"

"I can imagine."

My eye catches sight of the frame on my desk and the picture underneath the glass and the small photo resting on top of it. I close my eyes. No, buddy, you can't. You have no idea.

"Look, Chandler, I was kind of hoping I could see you and the gang again."

"Why? What for?" I cradle the phone between my ear and shoulder and cross my arms over my chest defiantly, even though I know Ross can't see it.

"I know you have every right to be mad at me, but if we could all just meet maybe I could explain—"

I snort rudely.

"Explain? How are you going to explain to Joey and Phoebe why they suddenly didn't matter? Or Rachel. Or Monica! How are you going to explain to Monica why you couldn't even communicate with your own sister once in five years? Or your parents, Ross! You haven't spoken to them since the reception."

"I know. Believe me, Chandler, I know. You think I wanted to just forget I ever had friends or a sister of family?"

"It didn't seem like it was too damn difficult," I retort, thinking of how hurt I was—we all were—but especially Monica. "Seemed like it was pretty quick and thorough."

"Look, I had to do whatever I could to save my marriage."

"And that meant dumping your family and friends at the drop of a hat?"

"I know there's no excuse—"

"No, there isn't! Do you have any idea how hurt Rachel was? I agree that she shouldn't have crashed your wedding the way she did, but she didn't deserve the verbal abuse you and Emily gave her. And none of us deserved the freeze out you gave us just for defending her. I can understand your being upset for a while, but five goddamn years, Ross? Wars are fought and resolved in less time. And what about Joey and Phoebe? Did they deserve to be forgotten just because Queen Emily didn't like who they hung around with. And Monica. Monica, Ross."

"I know, Chandler," Ross says irritably.

"No, you don't know, Ross! You don't have a fucking clue!" I explode.

Your sister is about to have my baby in three months, but you don't know anything about that because you don't know anything about what happened in London. Or after, like our sneaking around for the first five months, our engagement and our subsequent marriage. The fact we bought a house in Westchester and that's why you can't reach Monica at the apartment—because we don't live there anymore!

And then there's my son. My unborn son, who'll greet this world in three months with his Uncle Ross possibly never knowing about him. I finger the ultrasound photo broodingly. We tried so hard to have a baby. You don't know about that either. The miscarriages, the fertility tests and the doctors. The ecstasy we felt when we made it past the first trimester and got the all clear. How much Monica and I wanted to share this with you. Help us move, and set up the nursery. To have you stand up at our wedding as best man, clink champagne glasses in our engagement toast. So much has changed since we last saw you, Ross. With everything. I've been married two years to your sister. Two wonderful years. I'll be a father soon. I have a car and a mortgage and a few gray hairs I keep pretending aren't there when I look in the mirror.

I want to scream all this at him, but instead I clamp my lips together so tightly they go numb.

"You have no fucking clue," I whisper into the silence that has taken up residence since my outburst.

"I'm sorry I called," Ross replies glumly. "I didn't mean to bother you at work."

I nod, even though Ross can't see it. Another silence ensues.

"Well, I'd, I'd better go." I nod again.

"Yeah," I finally choke out. I press my fingers to my eyebrows and try to massage away the tension there. If Monica ever found out that I had talked to her brother—if I threw away the chance of seeing her brother…

"Ross!"

"Yeah?"

"Was it worth it? Was Emily worth it?"

I wait for a response, counting my own breaths since I can't hear Ross'.

His answer is faint but definitive.

"No."

I lean forward pondering how to accept this admission.

"Goodbye, Chandler."

"Wait! I'll—I'll talk to the others. I know…I know Monica would want to see you. And I think maybe the others. If nothing more than to see with their own eyes you're still alive…and then stone you to your death."

There's a loud release of air.

"Thanks, Chandler."

"Just let me discuss it with them tonight and I'll call you tomorrow from work. Are you back in London?"

"No."

I wait for Ross to elaborate.

"So, do you want to call me again?" I prompt.

"No. No, I'm not in London. I'm in New York."

I drop the phone. "Shit," I mutter, scrambling quickly for the receiver before Ross thinks I hung up on him.

"You're in New York? Where are you staying?"

"At the Radisson on Fifth Avenue."

"Is Emily with you?" I already know the answer to that question.

"No. Look, I'd really like to have dinner with everybody tomorrow, if everything goes well."

I snort again.

"Tomorrow? That may be kind of hard to do. Some are going to take more convincing than others," I tell him.

"I know. But I really want to see everybody. The whole gang, and…and especially Rachel."

"Rachel!" She'll be the hardest of all to convince, but we both know this. I sigh.

"I'll do my best. Just let me know when and where."

"Thanks, Chandler."

"Don't mention it."

"No, I mean it. Thank you. I know I have a lot of explaining to do."

I look at the second picture on my desk, the framed one. It's a picture of Monica and I on our honeymoon. Ross isn't the only one with a lot of explaining to do.

We disconnect and I stare blankly at the meaningless jumble of papers before me. I make a decision and grab Monica's list and my blazer, briefcase and overcoat and jab the intercom button.

"Harriet, I'm taking off early today."