Disclaimer: I don't own any characters, locations etc. mentioned in this fanfic. Hooray!

UPDATED Author's Note: Thank you so much for your encouraging reviews! Here is the first chapter. I hope you like it! Again, some locations/details may be changed for convenience of the story, but nothing too major! This chapter does get a little soppy near the end, but Mondler seems to be known for that anyway, hehe!

UPDATE: I totally agree with the crits in the reviews so I have edited this chapter to include a longer scene between the two of them. I really hope this makes things clearer and more believable! Thanks for your reviews, they were really helpful!

Here's my review responses:

Venused: Thank you very much! I totally agree with you about Joey and Chandler. In this fic, Joey hasn't found out about Monica and Chandler's relationship yet, so that won't be playing a part in the story – but I'll leave it secret as to who will find out what's going on!

kylleee: Thank you, I'm glad you enjoyed the beginning, and I hope you enjoy this chapter too!

Llew: No, he didn't – I felt it would be a bit too complicated or awkward if he did, so I decided to set it before that. I'm really glad you enjoyed it so far!

sn0zb0z: Thanks! I hope you enjoy this next chapter!

rajen48: Thank you, I often have trouble working out how to open a story so I'm glad it satisfied you! Hope you enjoy this chapter.

writerchic16: Wow, I would love to see your fic if you're interested in giving me the link! Nice to meet someone else who likes this plot device, and I'm glad you're enjoying it.

Setting: AU, at the beginning of Season Five during Monica and Chandler's secret relationship, just after The One Hundredth but before TOW The Kips (Joey has not found out about them yet). Mainly Chandler & Joey friendship (not slash), and a little mushy CM.

-Reflections-

A Friends Fan Fiction

Chapter One

Panic.

Chandler stood dumbfounded for a moment; like a cartoon character, his jaw hung limply open. His arm shaking, he reached for the mirror, and to his horror the reflection did the same. As his fingers touched the glass, the truth of it became all too clear. He could feel its smooth texture, its icy coldness, and as he drew his hand downward, saw the trail of his fingertips smudge across its surface.

He felt like screaming but was unable to make a sound. He swallowed. His throat was so tightly closed that it felt as if he were being strangled by an invisible assailant. This couldn't be real. Things like this didn't happen to people. They happened in movies. They happened on TV. Not to real people. He tried to dismiss it. He licked his teeth – Joey's teeth – they felt strange, slippery, almost too big for his mouth. He ran his hands across the contours of his face and into his hair. But they were all unfamiliar, all different, all wrong. It was like reading a map without any names; he could see the general picture but all the details were missing.

Five long minutes passed.

Strangely, the throbbing pain in his head had dulled - it was less frequent, weaker, fading fast. He didn't know why; perhaps the shock of the situation had sent it into submission. Resting his hands against the sink, he tried to steady his breaths. He looked up at the mirror. What was he going to do? He couldn't go to work like this. And he certainly couldn't keep up the pretence that he was Joey - not even with this brilliant disguise. And what about Joey himself? How was he going to react?

Stop it, he told himself. Calm down. Think rationally.

It so happened that thinking rationally was quite a tall order in such an irrational situation. It was a few minutes before he came to his decision: he needed to tell somebody, and fast. More than anything, he needed to prove to himself he wasn't mad. The thought that perhaps he was the only one who could see this - that it was a bizarre, cruel hallucination conjured up by his own mind - frightened him. He both anticipated and feared the answer, for either outcome was equally terrifying.

He took in a deep breath, and with one last look in the mirror, made his way out of the room and headed for Apartment 20.

It was two short minutes before Monica answered the door. To Chandler, it felt like an eternity. Dressed in her bathrobe, her hair unkempt, she blinked sleepily at him from behind the chain.

"Monica, you've gotta let me in." Chandler glanced down the hallway, then back at the closed door of his apartment. "Monica, please." He rubbed his throat, startled by the deepness of his voice.

"Joey?" she yawned. Good. He wasn't the only one seeing it. "What are you doing up this early on a Saturday?"

He looked desperately at her. "I'll tell you in a minute."

She sensed the urgency in his tone, and narrowing her eyes, closed the door and unfastened the chain. Chandler burst through into the room, almost knocking her backwards in the process.

"Do you mind?" she scoffed. "You're lucky I'm a morning person."

Chandler shut the door. "Mon, is anyone else here?"

"Only Rachel," she replied, "but she'll be dead to the world for another few hours." She paused. "Are you okay?"

He brushed past her into the kitchen. Frantically he moved to her collection of cups, and one by one picked them up, turning them over and glancing at the numbers written on the bases. He opened the drawers and shuffled through the silverware. He searched the fridge shelf by shelf, reading every label. Everything was unmistakeably right; there was no way, he knew, that he could have imagined it. Eventually he stopped, holding a jar of pickled olives. "I can't believe this."

"What is up with you?" said Monica, leaning against the kitchen counter. "We've had those for weeks. If you wanted them, you could have just come over at a normal time of day."

Chandler looked up as if he had only just noticed her. "Mon," he said, placing the jar on the table, "there's something I have to tell you."

Monica looked suspiciously at him, her eyes narrowed, watching his every move. His voice trembled, wavering with a strange, nervous energy. He moved toward her.

"Monica..." His voice cracked like a choirboy's. He swallowed, "Monica, it's me."

She stepped back, frowning. "Joey, what are you talking about?"

"No no, you don't understand," Chandler gestured wildly with his hands, though what he was trying to indicate, he didn't know. "I'm not Joey." He paused for a moment. How was he supposed to tell her? There was no use in inventing a story to explain it; the words would stumble from his mouth in what could only be described as elaborate gibberish. No. He had to tell the truth. After a moment's deliberation, he took a deep breath and looked down at the floor, realising the absurdity of what he was about to say. "I'm…Chandler."

Monica laughed. "No, you're crazy," she said, pushing past him and walking swiftly into the living room. "I hate to tell you this, Joe, but April Fool's was two months ago, and you couldn't even get me then."

"Look, this isn't a joke," said Chandler, following her. "I'm serious. I need you to believe me."

Monica turned to face him. "Oh, I believe you."

"Really?"

"Oh yeah." She folded her arms and raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "You know, you really did a good job with that disguise. Tell me, where's the zipper?" With a quick smirk, she turned away.

Chandler didn't blame her. He ran his words over in his head and realised how ridiculous – no, how stupid – they sounded. It was absurd to even entertain the idea that Monica would believe him. Heck, he wouldn't even believe himself. He slid out a chair and slumped down forward against the kitchen table, burying his head in his arms, and let out a low, frustrated groan.

"Is Chandler in on this?" he heard Monica say, her voice muffled by the sleeves of Joey's dressing gown.

He looked up, his eyes bleary. "What?" Then, understanding her question, he shrugged. "Oh. I-I guess."

"Well," Monica smiled thinly, "you can go and tell him that his little scheme didn't work. He'll have to try harder if he wants to fool this Geller."

She started to turn toward her room, and Chandler knew she expected him to leave. But he felt something inside him jump, and before he knew it the word had leapt up his throat. "Monica-"

She didn't turn around. "You can take the olives, Joey."

"Monica, please," Chandler pleaded, "you have got to believe me." He cringed at the sound of his voice; it sounded overblown, like a bad actor cast in a Broadway play.

At this, she stopped, and swivelled to face him. She folded her arms and an amused smile crept across her face. "Okay," she said, "give me one good reason why I should."

Chandler racked his brain. He had to convince her, somehow, some way…

Before he realised what he was saying, the words had slipped from his mouth.

"I- I know what's going on. With you and Chandler."

Monica froze. "What?" Oh God. That might not have been the best idea.

"Er- what I mean is-" He scrambled for words but his tongue felt like a sponge in his mouth, clumsy and awkward. It was almost a relief when Monica broke the silence.

"Oh my God." The change in her was instantaneous - her voice became barely audible, reduced to a whisper. "I can't believe he told you." She collapsed onto the couch.

He walked over to her and sat down on the coffee table, leaning forward against his knees. "He hasn't told anyone," he said softly, reading the disappointment on her face. "Because he's right here."

She looked at him, but said nothing.

"And-and I can prove it, too," Chandler said, desperately trying to keep her attention. "Er…remember the day after it happened? When we were searching everywhere for a place to be alone but wherever we went we could never catch a break? Remember how mad you were when I picked My Giant and it turned out that Joey was the one person in the world who actually liked it?"

She shook her head sadly and looked down at her knees. "He could have told you all that." Why was she even listening to him? She couldn't quite believe what she was hearing, and to tell the truth, she was only half-listening to his words. That Chandler had had the audacity to share these things – private things – with other people made her both angry and upset.

"And you think Joey would stand for it?" asked Chandler. "You know he's a good guy. Sure, he has a different girl over practically every night, but he has his morals. He wouldn't joke about this."

She looked up at him. This was Joey. It had to be. This was Joey's face. There were Joey's eyes, and there the faint hint of Joey's smile. But somehow, it didn't add up. There was something in his voice, too – something strange, something different, something that made her anger strangely begin to fade. The slightly childish charm was missing, and in its place was a shaky, nervous quiver, the voice of someone who was never too sure of himself.

And let's face it, she thought, Joey isn't that good an actor.

"Let me ask you something," she said. "And I know I'm going to feel stupid for asking this, because this is so ridiculous and I can't believe I'm even—alright, alright, I'll just say it."

Yes, come on. Believe me.

"You can ask me anything," said Chandler.

"Okay," she said, taking in a deep breath. "I want you to tell me exactly what he said that morning after. If you are who you say you are – and I can't believe I'm saying this – you'll know what I'm talking about. And I mean word-for-word. No mistakes."

"And what makes you think Joey wouldn't know that?"

"Trust me," Monica said earnestly, "he wouldn't."

You're right; he wouldn't. Not now, not ever.

"Well, if that's what it takes." Chandler flashed her a knowing smile. There was no hesitation, no pause for thought. He simply leant toward her and whispered something in her ear.

When he had finished, he watched as her expression changed from a tightly pursed frown to a contemplative gaze, eventually settling on one of gentle wonder. She seemed to be looking through him, as if there were a mirror there - as if she could see him on the other side. Plucking up his courage, he reached forward and took her hand. "Do you believe me now?" he said. "It's me. It's Chandler."

Her response came slowly, disbelieving. "Chandler?"

He managed a smile. "You know, tall, brown hair, hopeless with women?"

Five minutes later – which mainly consisted of Monica pacing like a tiger up and down the living room – somebody finally spoke. Or spluttered.

"How did this- I mean what- how could-" Monica's voice was shrill, choked, as if something was caught in her throat. Chandler watched her from the couch.

"I don't know, Mon." He leant forward. "I had to tell you – I panicked – I didn't know what to do, so I came here." Monica stopped and looked down at him, her eyes ablaze with a mix of anger and confusion.

"Well I hate to tell you this, but I'm not too prepared for this sort of situation either!" Chandler, wincing, eyed Rachel's door, and Monica followed his gaze. "Oh, like that's the biggest of my problems right now," she growled. Now that she had stopped moving, Chandler could see just how much her hands were shaking, how beads of sweat had coalesced in her palms and how the vein in her forehead was pulsating at a worrying rate.

"It's okay," he said, trying his best to pour sincerity into the words. "It'll be okay." But he couldn't even convince himself, and this frightened him. The sentence was empty, meaningless, and he knew it. He paused for a moment and picked at his fingernails, trying to distract himself. "We just need to work out a plan, that's all."

"You're- you're right," stammered Monica. "You're right." She sat down beside him, seeming slightly more enthused at this prospect. "Well, for one thing, we- we can't tell anybody. Not about us, not about this whole…event." Chandler nodded.

There was a long silence. After what seemed like an age, Chandler uncomfortably offered the question both knew was inevitable. "So what should I do?"

"Well," said Monica, the words leaping clumsily from her mouth, "I don't know…we need to keep people from finding out, so I think…I think it's for the best that you pretend you're Joey." At this word, Chandler looked up at her, his eyes widening with dread.

Joey.

All of a sudden, there was a scream from across the hall.

A/N: Thanks so much for reading - please read and review! I'd love to know what you thought.