Six letter word for 'deal with'. Chandler tapped the end of his ballpoint pen loudly against the Central Perk table. The quick staccato beat elicited dirty looks from the couple at the table across the room.

"Oh, deal with it." He pulled a face at them. "And then if you could give me a six letter word for what you're doing, that'd be great."

Joey returned from the counter and handed Chandler a drink. "Here, man, I got you your latte." He set his own cup down and took a seat on the couch.

"Thanks." Chandler ignored the scalding temperature and took a sip. "So, do you have any plans for tonight? I was thinking of catching a movie."

"Ah sorry, can't. I have a date."

"Another one?" Chandler tried to hide his surprise. "Things going well with you and High School Grad, then?"

Joey was confused. "You mean What's-Her-Face? I never even called her back."

"Ah, her. Shame, I liked her so much better than What's-Her-Name."

Joey missed the thinly veiled jab and continued, "No, I'm meeting this girl, Katie, who I met in Barbados. After you left to go swimming on the last night, I went down to the bar, and Katie was there. She said her boyfriend had just dumped her and that she was there with her friends from New York on vacation. I think I helped her get over her boyfriend pretty well, if I do say so myself. Eh?" He offered a mega-watt grin.

"Good for you, Joe," Chandler replied, meaning it. "Why didn't you tell me on the plane?"

"You were looking pretty down, so I decided to just wait until we got home. Figured you were just homesick or something."

Homesick. "Right." No need to explain that the reason he'd looked so down was exactly that – that they were going home. True, after the whole Rachel tryst, he now felt lighter than ever… but it wasn't without hours of gut-wrenching despair and self-therapy. Chandler had promised Rachel that it wasn't going to mean anything, but it was easier said than done. Way easier.

Chandler also didn't bring up the hours he'd spent packing and re-packing the same sock, distracted mind turning in circles – debating just saying 'fuck it all' to his marriage, his better judgment, and his promise – and dropping everything and running back to Rachel.

But he didn't.

And he'd never tell anyone, but he was incredibly proud of the fact. He loved his wife – her laugh, her hair, the way she left his notes on post-its in his briefcase before he went to work, the way she put on hand sanitizer after turning off the lights and before kissing him good-night.

Yes, Chandler Bing loved Monica Geller – and giving up and getting over perfect Rachel Green was the right (if not sacrificial) thing to do. That was what married men did.

And okay, so Chandler had wavered a bit on the way to learning his lesson – but the important thing was that he had learned it, and his relationship with Monica had emerged stronger than ever. If what happened with Rachel was what it took to open his eyes, then fine. He'd ended up in the right place. The right mind.

"So how was your night?" Joey asked, cutting into Chandler's tumultuous thoughts. "I saw you and Rachel in the pool."

Chandler froze, cold sweat immediately breaking out over his body. How?…

His mind raced, remembering the smooth resistance of water against his back as Rachel's lips found his underwater, how she had laughed when they landed against the water jets along the side, how he had twirled the strings of her swimsuit around his finger but never pulled. How they had sat together on the step in the corner of the shallow end when they were afraid of leaving the pool – and the night – behind.

"Joey," Chandler stammered. "I can explain –"

"I'm glad she decided to go swimming with you. I was feeling kind of bad that I didn't go with you when you asked."

"Oh."

"Sorry, man."

"Oh, that's okay." Chandler tried very hard not to move his face a millimeter or audibly sigh in relief. "I'm just glad we all, uh, had fun."

Thankfully, the arrival of the three girls from a shopping trip truncated that conversation. At once, the Central Perk couch was filled with girly chatter and the rustle of shopping bags.

Phoebe plopped herself down in the middle of the couch, relaying a detailed account of her purchases that day. Monica, who seemed more cheerful than she'd been in a while, gave Chandler a kiss on the cheek before sitting down on the couch closest to his round table. Rachel, as she was carrying the most bags out of the three, sat down at the single armchair opposite the table.

She noticed Chandler watching her and gave him a small smile. He smiled back.

"- And then she gave me these cute fisherman's outfits for half off!" Phoebe was saying happily, holding up three matching vests and hats in plastic bags. "Frank and the triplets are going to love these!"

The outfits came with plush fish and twine fishing rods, which made it plainly obvious to Chandler that they were most likely made for those Build-A-Bear type toys and not children. He wasn't sure what to say; he didn't want to be the one who burst Phoebe's bubble.

Luckily, Rachel had just noticed the same thing. "Uh, Pheebs?" she started. "Yeah, I don't think those are made for kids. I think those are teddy bear clothes."

"What do you mean?" Phoebe retorted incredulously. "What kind of kid wouldn't want to be dressed as a fisherman?"

"Uh, every kid north of New Orleans."

Chandler laughed. Rachel looked surprised, then smiled.

"Oh, whatever," Phoebe shrugged, dumping the clothes back into her bag. "Frank won't know the difference. I once gave him those little shampoo bottles from a hotel and convinced him that they sold those specifically for little people like children."

They all chatted for a while longer before Monica remembered, "Oh right! How was Barbados?" She addressed the group, but reached to place a hand on Chandler's knee. Then she grinned to let them know that she was okay with having missed out. "Tell me everything."

For the briefest sliver of a millisecond, Chandler and Rachel exchanged loaded glances. It passed, and Chandler's heart resumed beating. But he had some time to compose himself, as Phoebe began gushing about Mike's ping-pong skills – which inevitably led to an explanation about leaving David – which inevitably led to Joey cutting in about Ross and Charlie – which inevitably led to the introduction of Katie.

"Chandler?" Monica turned to him after taking in all that. "How about you? Although Pheebs and Joey have probably given me enough dirt to write a book."

He cleared his throat. "It was fun," he responded carefully. "I needed it. Ross's speech was good. I… learned a lot this weekend." About myself, about us. He didn't clarify. He let her think he'd learned a lot about fossils and carbon dating. It didn't matter.

What Chandler did add was, "But I missed you. So much." It was the truth. He smiled as Monica squeezed his knee and smiled back. Boldly, he risked a glance across the room at Rachel. She was smiling, too; a light, relieved smile, but it was there nonetheless.

"Oh." Chandler consulted his watch and quickly slurped the last of his coffee. "Gotta run, I promised I'd pick up some sample boxes for our latest campaign." He stood up and gave Monica a quick kiss on the cheek before saying, "I'll see you at dinner." These familiar actions comforted him somehow, and made him feel normal again.

"Ooh, I gotta go too," Rachel said, collecting her carrier bags around her wrist before standing. "I'm always afraid to leave Emma alone with Ross for too long; if her first word is Brontosaurus, the next thing to go extinct will be Ross's lecture notes." She stepped over Joey's feet and bid everyone goodbye.

Chandler and Rachel met at the door. They reached for the knob at the same time.

"Go ahead –"

"Oops, you can –"

They both laughed, two sharp exhalations heavy with something deeper than an awkward door moment.

Chandler pushed it open and held it, gesturing Rachel to go first with a chivalrous sweep of his arm.

She snorted and they both stepped outside into the crisp New York afternoon.

"Well… I'm this way," Chandler jerked a thumb to the left. "See you at home." He smiled and turned to leave, but Rachel's voice stopped him.

"Chandler, wait."

He slowly turned back to face her, praying that she was just stopping him to remind him about the Knicks game or tell him that his shoe was untied. Please, please, please. He wasn't angry, but he felt as if he would be if she were to say anything to unearth the emotions that he'd just worked so hard to suppress. I just got over this, he thought, gritting his teeth and bracing himself.

But luckily, his anxiety was unwarranted.

Rachel was smiling slightly, all her carrier bags still dangling from one extended forearm. Her other hand shielded her eyes from the setting sun. "We're cool, right?"

That was it.

We're cool, right?

Three easy words that seemed to cut through everything they'd been through the past month and wiped them clean.

And, as if someone had pressed a big rewind button on his life, Chandler saw those recent events whirl by in double speed - the excruciating final good night, the kisses, the warm water, the surrender, seeing Rachel standing by the pool waiting for him, closing the door behind him, the confrontation, flirting in Barbados, the confusion, the hugs, the denial, the tentative kiss, the coworker's mistake, the Central Perk receipt and the pacifier, and finally – waking up in Rachel's lap in Central Park.

Pause.

Here, Chandler briefly hesitated over the metaphorical record button, but braced himself and pressed it – hard, before he could change his mind. Whatever may have happened then, I'm recording over it. We're starting over now.

He smiled, hands stuffed in his pockets. "Yeah. We're cool."

"Okay." Rachel exhaled with a smile. "Okay."

They both shuffled their feet awkwardly for a while and glanced at their watch, the sky, the ground – anywhere but at each other.

Finally, Chandler broke the silence by extending his arms. The corners of Rachel's lips curled upwards and she walked towards him as a thirsty girl might approach a lemonade stand. They collided in an almost rough side-hug, but they still found comfort in each other's arms.

"Mm, nice suit and tie," Rachel boldly joked, smirking.

They chuckled, tentative at first, but then freely. Chandler gave Rachel a small peck on the forehead before they broke apart and bid goodbye.

Deep down, Chandler knew that there would never come a day when he would stop caring for Rachel. She was his friend, she was an amazing person, and she meant a lot to him. But while you may never stop caring for someone, you can find someone you care about more. Indeed, Chandler cared about Monica in a wholly different way – as his wife, with love and loyalty.

And if one day in the future, Monica were to ask him about what really happened in Barbados, he would tell her. The truth – that it was a time before he was emotionally experienced enough to understand the lessons he'd recently learned.

Chandler watched Rachel go – all the way until she reached the corner and disappeared around it. Soon enough, there were only the wrinkles in his pants where a Bloomingdales bag had hit him to prove that Rachel had ever been there.

We're cool. We're okay. Chandler repeated to himself. I can handle this.

He took a step in the opposite direction, then stopped, as if suddenly remembering something. A grin slowly broke out on his face. He felt like laughing. Dancing.

A six- letter word for 'deal with'.

Chandler fished out his crumpled crossword from his pocket and grinned.

Handle.

(A/N) How was it? I hope you liked it - all of it! Thank yous to those who have stuck with me and offered encouraging words since the beginning. As always, feel free to let me know anything/everything you thought. And as always - thank you so much for reading! I truly hope you enjoyed reading this fic, because I really loved writing every chapter! :) 3