You Are Not Alone

xx

This story was inspired into being by the Michael Jackson song of the same name. With MJ everywhere since his unfortunate death it's been impossible not to hear his music and remember how great it was. My Dad even pulled out his old dusty Thriller record. Record! As in plastic, vinyl. Geez, we've come a long way, haven't we? I'll take my iPod, thanks.

Anyway… I felt inspired to write a fic based on one of MJs songs and this was the result. Keep in mind it's very, very loosely based on the song. (Read: it basically only has the title and general theme of aloneness in common.)

This is set in season two, shortly after Mr. Heckles dies. Everything else should become clear as you read.

As always, enjoy and let me know what you think :)

xx

Chandler sat on a barstool in his and Joey's apartment, hunched over the photo box he had taken from Heckles' apartment, engrossed in its contents. Inside were dozens of photos of beautiful women, all of whom had nitpicky comments scrawled on the back. The photos were hitting a little too close to home for his tastes, but he couldn't pull himself away. He stole a glance at Heckles' yearbook, which lay carelessly discarded on the countertop nearby, remembering the comments accompanying his schoolmates' signatures, with a pang. He was on route to becoming Heckles and the thought scared the hell out of him.

He had been mostly joking, the previous evening, when he had suggested to his three female friends that he was going to have to become a crazy snake man, but he couldn't shake the thought that he was going to end up alone.

He had called Janice in a panic, desperate to have someone, anyone, who would love him for who he was, and wouldn't judge him. That had been a bust. She had showed up positively glowing, happily married and pregnant. Even Janice, his backup of all backups was no longer an option. He'd never felt more alone, or more terrified.

He tried to cheer himself up with the thought that he was only 27 and had plenty of time to find someone, but that didn't make him feel much better. He could only see the opposite, a mental countdown of his 'prime' years beginning in his head. He shook it to clear it and closed the lid to the photo box, attempting to push them out of mind. If he couldn't see them, he wouldn't think about them. Right?

Wrong.

Instead his brain conjured up images of what could have been his own photo box of rejected women. Feeling another wave of self-pity he buried his face in his hands, feelings the day's stubble on his cheeks.

He was contemplating whether to take a shower, shave and at least try to make himself presentable or to break out the carton of ice cream he knew Monica had stored in his freezer to hide it from Rachel, when the door burst open and Monica sauntered into his apartment.

Chandler smiled at her half-heartedly, pasting on the 'I'm fine' expression he had perfected during his parents' divorce, muttering a quiet greeting to her.

He was out of practice, though, and Monica wasn't buying it. She looked at him doubtfully. "Hey, you look like hell. This thing with Heckles really has you shaken up, doesn't it? You're going to be okay, aren't you?"

Chandler shrugged, pretending not to care. "I'm fine. I'm going to die alone. But hey, that's cool. Tina Turner was on to something. Love has nothing to do with anything."

"Hon," Monica said, looking him square in the eye, "I know you don't really feel that way. Look, pretending to be apathetic isn't going to help you. You've got to decide what you want and make a commitment to change."

Chandler let out a breath, knowing she was right. "I know," he admitted, adding, "It's mostly my fault, I know, but what if it's not just me? What if I really am undatable? Unmarryable? Even Janice has moved on! She was my backup, backup!"

"You are going to be fine," Monica asserted, "Trust me, sweetie. The fact that you're aware of what you want and ready to make yourself available to a woman already makes you ten times more datable than most of the guys I've dated."

"Really?" he asked, neediness seeping into his tone.

Monica nodded. "Definitely." Chandler couldn't help but smiling at the assertion and the confidence with which it was spoken. Half-teasing, half-trying to ease his fears Monica added, "Besides, remember when Ben was born? If neither of us is married by 40… we'll be together, right?"

Chandler scoffed. "Please, you'll be long since married by 40! You're gorgeous and sexy and smart and funny an-and lots of other great things. I on the other hand-"

"Sell yourself short," Monica interrupted, finishing his sentence for him.

Chandler sighed self-depreciatingly. "I wish. There is absolutely nothing special about me. Look at me compared to Joey! He had three dates with three women yesterday! And two of them stayed over!" he said sardonically, "I had no dates with no women, and definitely no one stayed over, in the last month, let alone yesterday!"

Monica moved to sit on the barstool next to him, rubbing his back consolingly. "You can't do that to yourself. Comparing yourself to Joey is not the way to go about things. I know you don't want to date the kind of women Joey dates. You're not a one night stand kind of guy, sweetie. Remember Aurora and how much you hated being her sex toy?"

Chandler shook his head at the comment, "No. I'm past being that picky. If some woman wants me for one night, and that's it, I'll take a date any way I can get one."

Monica shook her head more emphatically, "Chandler, don't do that. You have no idea how much more respect women have for guys like you, who aren't after just one thing. I'd date you before Joey, no question. Joey is fine for a booty call, but that's about it. He isn't the kind of guy women take seriously."

Chandler sat up a little in his seat, proudly, feeling the most upbeat he had since he had first discovered the similarities between himself and Heckles. "Yeah?"

Monica nodded unable to help from smiling at how shocked he was. It was cute. "Of course, women appreciate men who know what they want."

Chandler sighed. "I definitely want a relationship," he admitted, "Who would have thought? The idea of not being in one scares me more than actually being in one. I'm 27. I need to start taking my love life seriously; I'm ready to commit."

"Wow," Monica teased, shaking her head in disbelief that her commitment-phobic across-the-way neighbour Chandler was the one saying those things. "You just sounded like 'dream guy' for a minute there," she admitted before she realized what she was unleashing.

Chandler smirked his eyes widening curiously, "Dream guy?"

Monica flushed, stammering, "What? I didn't say that! You must have misheard me!"

"Okay," Chandler grinned, knowing she was lying, "What did you say?"

Monica blushed deeper, unable to come up with a suitable cover, "I – um, I said, um…"

"You said I sounded like 'dream guy'!" Chandler persisted, grinning madly at her embarrassed face, "Come on, don't be mean! Tell me, who's 'dream guy?'"

Monica met his eyes which were twinkling with unconcealed glee, and said, "Fine," she agreed reluctantly, "but if you ever tell anyone about this… I'll murder you in your sleep."

Chandler gave her the Boy Scout's salute, his solemn expression belying his underlying glee, "Boy scout's honour."

"You were a boy scout?" Monica asked in surprise, "I didn't know that. Did you get any badges?"

Chandler shook his head, seeing straight through her attempted diversion, "Hey, hey! No changing the subject!"

"Fine," Monica grumbled, cursing under her breath, before taking a deep breath and admitting, "Dream guy is what I call my fantasy guy, okay? He's the imaginary dream guy who always calls back, is never late for dates and doesn't freak out at the word commitment. He's considerate, mature, sweet… essentially the perfect boyfriend."

Chandler grinned wider, "Aww," he teased, unable to hold in his laughter.

Monica slapped his arm a little harder than necessary, "Don't laugh at me, Bing," she growled.

Chandler sobered, "No. I really do think it's sweet that you have this mental image of the perfect boyfriend… in a kind of weird way, but still sweet." Monica continued glaring at him, not quite sure if he was being serious, so he added, "Really!"

Monica looked down at her lap, inspecting an invisible piece of lint, "I've never told anyone about that before. Not even Rachel."

"Really?" Chandler asked, shocked. After the stories Ross had told him Rachel shared with the other girls, he was quite willing to believe that they shared everything. If they were willing to share about moles on guys' butts, what else was left not to share?

Monica smiled hesitantly, "Thanks, I think."

"Hey Mon?" Chandler asked, not waiting for her to respond, continuing before he lost his nerve, "You're gonna find your dream guy, some day. I just know it."

Monica grinned back, genuinely touched. "Thanks. Sometimes you know just what to say."

Chandler shrugged off the compliment. "After 27 years of saying the wrong thing, I guess I was due," he suggested. "I did mean it though," he admitted, smiling into her eyes, "You deserve true love as much as anyone I know, Mon."

Monica smiled, fighting unsuccessfully to keep down her flush. "You just keep making yourself look better and better," she teased, "If you keep saying sweet things like that to women, you just might wind up in a long-term, committed relationship."

Chandler grinned, glancing at the photo box on the counter, feeling much better than he had just ten minutes ago, before Monica had entered. "That's the hope."

"Hey, Chandler?" Monica said, "I just want you to know that you're not alone, okay? No matter what happens, you'll have me."

xx

It was one of the rare occasions when the gang was gathered in Chandler and Joey's apartment, rather than the girls'. Monica was pouting a little, unnoticeably, unless one was looking for it, clearly upset that she had been relieved of her hosting duties for the night.

They were watching some TV special, munching on various snacks Joey had miraculously pulled out of some cupboard. 'Since when did they keep food or drinks in their apartment that didn't come with an alcoholic content label?' Monica wondered, shrugging it off and deciding to enjoy a Friday night without a date as much as she could.

At least all the others were dateless, too. Even Joey was dateless, claiming he was too tired from the long night before with another nameless girl. Even Ross and Rachel had decided against going out, opting to spend the night with their friends. Unfortunately, that meant they spent most the night making nauseating googly eyes at one another, reminding the others of their unfortunate dateless status. Monica wished they had gone out on their date, after all. At least then she wouldn't have to watch.

Snapping out of her reverie, Monica felt Chandler, who was squished in the same chair as her, thanks to the lack of seating in the boys apartment, nudge her to get her attention. "Hey, you okay over there?" he wondered, "You've been quiet all night. You didn't even laugh when Rachel told that bellybutton story!"

Monica smiled at him, "Nah, I'm fine. It's just weird not having to do anything, and just hanging out. Usually I'm running around, checking everyone's got snacks and beers… but Joey's taking care of that, now," she half-nodded, half-glared in Joey's direction, as he passed a cold beer to Phoebe, gleefully showing her the ice-filled cooler he had placed next to the recliner and explaining its benefits to his impressed friend.

Chandler couldn't help but laugh, "You're a little crazy, you know that? Just let Joey have his moment, and relax. It's rare he ever feels like an authority on anything."

Monica laughed, nodding by way of admitting he was right, "If there's anything Joey is an authority on, it's cold beer."

"There ya go!" Chandler laughed, pointing towards the TV. "So, just take a deep breath and watch this scintillating episode of," he squinted at the screen, trying to figure out what was on, "E! True Hollywood story," he finished, still looking at the TV.

"Wow, you're good!" Monica giggled, referring to his ability to recognize the entertainment show, "Been watching a lot of E! lately?"

Chandler shrugged, flushing. "What, no! I, uh, just happen to catch some of it while making pancakes for Joey's dates in the mornings," he lied, before realizing the lie didn't make him look much better. He changed the subject, "Besides," he claimed, pointing at the screen, "They're doing Wham! Who doesn't like Wham!?"

"Suuure," Monica laughed again, forgetting her preoccupation with her lack of hosting duties.

"Sure, what, Mon?" Rachel interrupted, from her spot in Ross' arms, her gossip's ear perking up.

Monica grinned at Chandler evilly, "Oh nothing. Chandler just was telling me about his love for Wham!"

Ross nearly choked on his beer in his eagerness to share, "Like them? Hell, he rushed the stage at a Wham! concert in '88!"

"Seriously, dude?" Joey asked, "George Michael?"

"Hey!" Chandler cried defensively, "He was cool, then."

"No," Monica corrected, "Michael Jackson was cool. George Michael was just George Michael."

"Still," Ross claimed, "You didn't have to let him slap you."

"What is this, gang up on Chandler day?!" Chandler whined, looking across his friends at their varying smirks and shrugs. "Oh, so that's how it's going to be?" he groaned, relieved when there was a knock at the door. In his eagerness to get away from his friends' teasing, he didn't even stop to consider who it might be, since all his friends were already present.

He wrenched the door open, surprised to be greeted with his mother, low-cut dress and all. "Mom!" he exclaimed, shocked, "What are you doing here? Why didn't you tell me you were stopping by?" he wondered, hugging her and leading her into the apartment.

"After our conversation last year, I thought it would be nice if we started to spend a little more time together." Nora retorted, waving her hand dismissively and strolling into the apartment, "Like I need an excuse to visit my only son, anyway!"

Chandler grinned tightly, "No, I guess not," he claimed, muttering under his breath, "but some warning would have been nice. How did you get in here, anyway? You didn't buzz?" he asked, the last sentence coming out as a half-statement, half-question.

Nora smiled coyly, patting Chandler's chest affectionately, "Your downstairs neighbour, Matt, let me in. The boy was falling all over himself to help me however he could. I think he wanted to help me right into his bed, if you know what I mean," she explained, an eyebrow raised suggestively, "I turned down his invitation to 'come see his place,'" she air quoted, "to see you."

Chandler rolled his eyes at her brazen behaviour. That kind of behaviour was the last thing he'd expect from Matt, their shy downstairs neighbour. His mother was probably juicing up the story the only way she knew how, with sex. "Well, Matt is known for his sexual escapades," he eventually muttered, deadpan, not about to call out his mother on the fabricated story, "Thanks for thinking of me, instead," he continued, sarcastically.

Nora winked at her son, "You could stand to be a little more like him, darling," she suggested, "God knows you're not exactly the most take-charge kind of man with the ladies."

"Gee, thanks, Mother," Chandler drawled, quickly changing the subject and gesturing to his friends, who all waved and offered assorted greetings, "You remember Joey, Phoebe, Monica, Rachel and Ross?"

Nora nodded, smiling pleasantly at them all. "You kids look fantastic," she beamed, "You all must be getting some good loving," she declared, "I know that does wonders for my complexion," she claimed, patting her own face and smiling broadly, not noticing Chandler's groan of embarrassment.

She quickly settled into the chair Joey had vacated for her, patting his cheek in a way that was a strange cross between motherly and seductive. Joey grinned his how-you-doin' grin at her, before noticing Chandler's glare and quickly dropping it.

"So what's new with you kids?" Nora asked, looking around at the faces gathered around her, "How's life been treating my little Chandler?" Chandler forced down another groan, and settled back into the seat he had been sitting in, with Monica, before his mother had arrived.

"Well, you could always ask me yourself, you know," Chandler grumbled, fully aware that all his friends' attention was raptly focused on him and his mother.

Nora rolled her eyes good-naturedly, as if he was being unnecessarily difficult, "Okay, then, dear. How have you been?"

"Well," Chandler shrugged, "Work's been good. I got a raise last week."

Nora waved her hand, dismissing the comment, "Who asked about work, darling? I want to hear about you. Do you have a special lady in your life?" she hinted.

Chandler just managed to stop himself from rolling his eyes. His mother had all the subtlety of a trainwreck. "No, it's just me," he explained, quickly making a joke to deflect how much the reminder hurt, "I'm going to die alone, cool, huh?"

"Really?" Nora questioned, surprised, "You're young and attractive, dear! You should be playing the field while you have the opportunity! Don't tell me that you don't even have a sex buddy?"

Chandler flushed deeply at the inappropriate comment while his friends tittered uncomfortably, though Phoebe nodded along in agreement, "Mom!" Monica patted him on the back consolingly, her own problems with her mother making it easier for her to sympathize and understand why he sometimes found it so difficult to be around his mother.

Nora shook her head, "Don't be such a prude, darling. You can talk to me about anything, I am your mother, you know."

"Yes," Chandler growled, "I'm aware."

The others exchanged awkward glances, clearly aware of the strained atmosphere developing. Deciding it was time to intervene on Chandler's behalf, Monica spoke up, "So, Mrs. Bing, how is your writing going? I hear the publishing industry is thriving."

Chandler sighed in relief at the intervention; he was so thankful that Monica had come to his rescue that he quickly kissed her on the cheek, causing Nora to raise an eyebrow at them. They did look awfully close, hunched together in that chair…

Half her attention still focused on her son and Monica, Nora responded to the question, "It's been fabulous. My last book, The Wind Beneath My Skirt, has been absolutely flying off of shelves. My agent is already begging for a sequel."

"Great title!" Phoebe nodded, impressed, smirking at Chandler, who groaned, "Chandler's favourite was always Mistress Bitch, though, wasn't it, Chandler?" she teased. Chandler merely glared at her, refusing to answer.

"Ooh," Rachel squealed, "Mrs. Bing, I'd love to read a sequel! The Wind Beneath My Skirt was one of the best books I've read in years! Uh, would you mind, um," Rachel flushed, "signing my copy?"

"Of course, dear," Nora said graciously, "but call me, Nora. Being called 'Mrs. Bing' only reminds me I was once tied to that old queer, Helena Handbasket," she mocked, "for life!"

Phoebe nodded sympathetically, interjecting, "Oh, I know how that is. I was married to a gay ice dancer. Only I actually liked him, and I never changed my name," she frowned, "So exact same thing, yeah?"

Nora raised an perfectly plucked eyebrow in confusion and continued, "Sure, dear. I would have reverted back to my maiden name, but I'd built up an readership, you know how it goes."

Unsure how to respond to odd exchange, Rachel nodded along pleasantly, "Uh, sure thing, Nora," she emphasized, "Let me just go get my book," she agreed, happily, quickly rushing out the door to retrieve her copy of The Wind Beneath My Skirt.

Soon as she was out the door, Monica took one look at Chandler's pained face and felt obligated to keep the conversation going. "So, Nora, do you, um, have any plans while you're in New York? Chandler tells us you usually live up in Vermont." Chandler stared at his friend, touched that she had remembered him telling her that, a little in awe of how well she was protecting him from his mother's well-meaning, but often inappropriate questioning.

"Yes," Nora nodded, "Manhattan is much too busy for me; no peace and quiet to write. My penthouse in the city gets neglected too often," she shook her head, "I thought about passing it down to Chandler, here, but you know him," she nodded conspiratorially to his friends, "stubborn as a bull. Won't accept anything he doesn't think he's earned. When he was a teenager, Charles and I managed to wrangle him a placement in Yale. His grades weren't the best, but he passed the SATs with flying colours. He could've gone wherever he wanted, but had this strange teenage ambition to do everything he could to rebel against Charles and I, instead."

The others looked at Chandler in surprise at his mother's revelation, Ross especially looked a little shell-shocked, "Your parents got you into Yale and you didn't go?!" Ross questioned, wide-eyed, "What the hell, Chandler! You turned down Yale?!"

Chandler shrugged, "Yeah, so? My parents essentially bought my way through. Sure, my SAT scores were good, but my GPA wasn't. I knew I was getting a free pass. Would you want to go like that?!"

"Yes!" Ross cried, "Who cares how you get in?! Yale is Yale!"

Chandler shrugged, answering shortly, "Well, I didn't."

Nora pursed her lips, her disagreement obvious in her expression, "How many times do your father and I have to tell you, darling?" she shook her head, "It was all you. All we did was secure your financial backing; they wanted you for you; your school had an excellent rapport with the Ivy Leagues, that combined with your SAT score was enough. All your father and I did was square your finances."

Chandler shook his head, as well, dismissing the comment, "That was nearly ten years ago now," he claimed, "Can we please let it go? I've moved on, I went to NYU, end of story."

He was relieved to hear the door open and Rachel scurry back into the room, a dog-eared copy of Nora's book in her hands. "Look, Rachel's back," he exclaimed with false excitement, successfully diverting everyone's attention.

Rachel presented the book to Nora with a flourish. Nora stared at the well worn copy with a raised eyebrow, "You sure have been enjoying this book, haven't you, dear?" she asked, daintily plucking a sharpie from her purse and flipping open the front cover of the book, preparing to sign it.

Rachel flushed, "Well, yeah. I mean, it was so amazing! The love scenes between Davie and Julia on pages 27, 52, 105, 129, 217 and 239 were sooo amazing," she gushed.

"Wow," Nora smiled at the recitation of precise page references, as she scrawled her name and a short comment to Rachel on the cover, "You sure are a big fan!"

"Yes!" Rachel squealed, thanking Nora and returning to her seat next to Ross, who quickly plucked the book from her hands inspecting pages 27, 52, 105, 129, 217 and 239, as Joey peered eagerly over his shoulder. They both gasped as the lengthy sexual descriptions.

"Wow!" Ross said, his eyes bugging as they took in the words on the page, "I feel like I need to wash my eyeballs!"

"Not me," Joey grinned, snatching the book from Ross' hands.

"Wow," Chandler commented sarcastically, "I've never seen Joey so invested in reading material that didn't come with actual pictures of naked women."

"That's the power of good writing, darling," Nora explained.

"I cannot believe you read that stuff, Rach!" Ross complained, "Wait… how long have you had that book?"

"A couple of months," Rachel answered, shrugging, "Why?"

"Just… we've been together a couple of months," Ross explained, "Just how much have you been enjoying that book?" he wondered, suspiciously, taking in the book's worn appearance.

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Are you seriously accusing me of cheating on you with a book, Ross?" she questioned, a little annoyed.

"No," Ross said, an embarrassed waver in his voice as he recognized the ridiculousness of the accusation. He quickly changed the subject. "So, uh, Nora, what brings you to New York?"

Nora, who had been calmly listening to the friends banter amongst themselves, with an amused air, responded to Ross' question, smiling at him in an overly affectionate way, causing Chandler to inwardly groan and sink further back into his seat, as memories of her last visit, and subsequent kiss with his bestfriend returned to mind. Monica squeezed Chandler's hand and wrapped an arm around his shoulders comfortingly, recognizing his strained expression.

"My agent wanted me to do a mini-book tour in a few bookstores around the city," Nora explained, "So, I thought to myself… why not go for a visit with my son, too?" Nora turned her smile on Chandler, "Isn't that lovely, darling? We'll be spending the whole weekend together!"

Chandler fumbled for words, "You – uh, you mean, to say, um, that you're going to be staying here for the weekend? The whole weekend?" he asked a little wide-eyed; he did not look pleased at the thought, though he attempted to paste on a smile anyway, "But – but, what about your neglected penthouse," he said brightly, "Don't you think you should visit it? It must, uh, get awfully lonely, with no tenants for most of the year," he suggested, recognizing, even as the words spilled out of his mouth how stupid they were, "Not that I wouldn't love for you to stay here!" he lied, "It's just we don't have much room."

Nora waved her hand dismissing the problem as insignificant, "Don't worry about that, darling. You don't think I can handle sleeping on the couch for a few nights, if it means I get to see my son? When your father and I first got married, before my writing career took off, we lived in his mother's basement. Worst year of my life," she claimed, "Living in that junk bin with that old hag, your father, I mean. His mother was a saint, putting up with him for as long as she did. I just never could count on Charles to bring in any income–"

"Mom!" Chandler interrupted, wanting to stop his mother's tirade in its tracks, before they were all relegated to hearing about how horrible a husband Charles was, "You can stay here, okay? You can take my bed. I'll sleep on the couch."

"That's awfully gracious of you, darling," Nora smiled, "I'm just pleased that we're going to be spending some time together. That is, as long as your girlfriend doesn't mind."

Chandler sighed. "Mom, weren't you listening to me at all? I don't have a girlfriend, okay? I'm all alone. Just me! Thanks for the reminder, though," he drawled, adding as an afterthought, "And for caring enough to listen when I talk."

Nora winked, "Oh okay, I get it. It's a secret. Or it's not serious, yet, just sex, hmm? Okay. I'll keep quiet." She winked again.

Chandler shook his head, baffled, "What secret? What sex? What are you talking about? There's no secret! And definitely no sex!"

Nora clucked in disappointment, "Chandler, darling, I know we aren't exactly close, but I'm your mother. You can tell me these things. No need to be shy. I changed your diapers. We have no secrets between us."

Chandler groaned in embarrassment, again, "Thanks for the lovely – and slightly disturbing, may I add – mental imagery, mother," he deadpanned, to which Nora scoffed, "But I really have no idea what you're talking about. What exactly do you think I'm keeping secret from you?"

"Your relationship with Monica," she explained, matter-of-factly, only to be greeted with several laughs, the loudest coming from Joey and Ross. Monica looked at him apologetically, aware that the others' behaviour would be a hit to his already fragile ego.

Chandler shook his head, Monica nodding in agreement, "There's nothing going on, mother. We're friends."

Nora's brow creased in confusion. "At the very least you must be sleeping together, then."

"Monica and I are not an item, mother," he explained more forcibly, exchanging amused smirks with Monica, "We're sitting in the same chair, so what? You automatically assumed that means we were having sex?"

"Well, no," Nora frowned at the over-simplification, "You kissed her on the cheek, earlier, and you're holding hands. You've been whispering back and forth and sitting close all night. And just now you smiled at one another. Something has to be going on."

Chandler glanced down and his and Monica's joined hands and they both flushed, dropping the link. "No," Chandler said firmly, adding in a more embarrassed tone, "And you noticed all that?" he asked, his blush deepening.

Nora smirked, "I'm a writer, darling; I have to be observant. When sexual chemistry is present one takes notice."

"We're friends," Chandler repeated, for lack of anything else to say. He looked to Monica for help, but she shrugged.

Nora raised an eyebrow suggestively, "Not like any friends I've ever seen," she nodded towards Joey and Phoebe, "Look at them. They look like friends."

"I don't know what to tell you, mother," Chandler shrugged, "We're sorry to disappoint you, but there really is nothing going on, here."

Ross decided to speak up in Chandler's defense, "Trust me, Nora, there is nothing going on between these two," he chuckled, "I mean, my bestfriend and my sister? No way, I'd know it."

"I wouldn't be so sure, dear," Nora said.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ross wondered, whispering the question to Rachel, who shrugged, pretending not to know.

Phoebe overheard and answered in a stage whisper, with a wide smirk, "I think she's saying you're not very observant, Mr. Scientist Man."

Ross huffed and crossed his arms, put out. He turned an appraising eye on his bestfriend and his sister, trying to spot what Nora was seeing… Now that she mentioned it, they did look kind of cozy over there. But then, Monica and Chandler?… nah. The thought was absurd. She cut off his toe for God's sake!

As the group of friends resumed conversation around her, Nora drifted off into thought. She really had believed that Chandler and Monica were a couple. There was no way that two people who didn't at least want to be a couple acted like that.

If she knew how young people's minds and chemistry worked – and she was pretty sure she did, if her massively successful books were any indication – then her son and Monica were definitely sharing a bond that was more than just platonic.

Perhaps they were just shy, she considered. Friendship could really put a strain on romance, she thought with a sigh. There was a reason her readers constantly clamored for sex and romance. It was so much more exciting than dull, old friendship.

She would just have to get Chandler and Monica to realize that.

She was Nora Bing, after all; if she couldn't make Chandler and Monica realize they were better off putting their chemistry to good use, no one could.

She had just the plan to make it happen, too.

xx

Okay, so, originally, this was supposed to be a quick oneshot; just a short little quasi MJ tribute fic, but it's kind of morphed into more thanks to my inability to stop rambling, even for a moment :P I guess I'm just not a oneshot kind of person. I was much better at them when I was younger and even 1000 words seemed like a lot.

I've decided to cut it off here, instead, and post it, and see if there's any interest in continuing before I dedicate more time to it. It'll probably be a few chapters at most.

If there's any interest, my plan is to quickly finish this one up, before resuming Everything You Want. I could always return to it later, too, though I wanted to at least post the first part while it was still relevant.

As always, let me know what you think :)