Whoa, what is with the crazy yellow all over the place! Eh, it's kinda cool...;-)
Thanks to Talon for her input, and her incredible ability to put a crack in my writer's block!

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The One With The Bachelor Party, Eight
"The Light In His Eyes"

~New York City, the next day~

"I can't believe this," Rachel said quietly, after Monica and Joey finished relaying what they had learned at the Embassy to her, Ross and Phoebe.

"What do you think we should do?" Phoebe asked.

"Well, the guy we talked to seemed to think that Chandler might open up more to someone who had been through a similar incident. He suggested a vetran," Monica explained.

"Oh! I was in the War of 1812!" Phoebe said excitedly.

"Okay, Pheebs, maybe someone from a more recent war. I was actually thinking that Rachel's dad might be willing to help," Monica said, looking at Rachel pleadingly.

"Sure, I'll give him a call later," Rachel replied.

"I was thinking that since your dad is a doctor, he might know someone who can--" Monica was interrupted when Chandler walked into the apartment. The room went quiet.

"Well, don't stop talking about me just because I came in," Chandler said shortly, and walked into the bedroom.

"Chandler!" Monica turned and walked after Chandler, leaving the other four friends in the kitchen.

"I'm, uh, gonna go," Ross said quickly, and rushed out the door. He closed the door behind him, and leaned heavily against it. He wasn't sure how things were ever going to be the same. He couldn't even stand to be in the same room with Chandler anymore. Ross wondered if Chandler blamed him, the way that he blamed himself. It was his decision to leave Thailand immediately. Joey wanted to stay for a few more days, because he thought maybe there was a chance Chandler was still alive. Ross refused to believe that to be true, and had convinced Joey that going home was the only option.

~Two and a half years ago, Bangkok, Thailand~

"We should at least check the hotel. I mean, maybe Chandler came back. Maybe they were wrong at the Embassy," Joey said desperately, as he and Ross made their way from the taxi to the airport terminal.

"Joey, Chandler is gone, okay? And we have to go home, and tell the girls. There is nothing we can do here. He's dead, okay? And we have to get back to New York."

"But--"

"Joey! There's nothing we can do! I just want to get back home, back to New York. Don't you? Don't you wanna see the girls again?"

"Yeah, of course. I just--I can't believe he's gone."

"I know, neither can I, Joe."


~Present Day~

Ross shook his head, and wandered out of his sister's apartment building. He just had to try and forget. Forget any of this ever happened. It was the only way that he and Chandler could be friends again.

****

"Chandler, please don't get mad, okay?"

"C'mon, Monica, you don't think that I know you were just talking about me? You all clammed up as soon as I walked in! How do you think that makes me feel?"

"Chandler I'm sorry, I--"

"Look, I know you think that I am 'in denial' and need help, but I really don't want to talk about this anymore. I just want to move on with my life. What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing. Nothing. I'm sorry, sweetie."

Chandler sighed heavily and sat down on the bed. He wondered what his friends were talking about, but he knew better than to ask Monica about it. She probably wouldn't tell him, and even if she did, it would probably make him feel worse. They felt sorry for him, that he could see. He was tired of people feeling sorry for him, and he was tired of feeling like he didn't belong here. He layed down on the bed, and closed his eyes. He could feel Monica standing over him, and knew that she had no idea what to say to him. It made him sad, this idea that Monica felt that she couldn't talk to him. He suddenly felt very tired, and before long, he felt himself drifting off to sleep. He felt Monica pull a blanket over him, and heard her leave their bedroom quietly.

Monica talked to Phoebe, Rachel and Joey for another two hours, but eventually felt herself becoming sleepy as well. She talked with Rachel about setting up a dinner with her father, then excused herself and retreated to her bedroom. When she walked in, she was surprised to see that Chandler was not in bed. She couldn't recall him leaving the bedroom. The moonlight cast only a small amount of light into the room, so Monica flipped on the light, and scanned the room. That was when she heard him. She walked to the other side of the bed, and saw Chandler on the floor, laying in the fetal position. He was obviously dreaming, and whatever it was he was dreming about was scaring him.

"Chandler?" Monica crouched down next to him, and shook him lightly. "Chandler, wake up, honey."

Monica shook Chandler again, and this time he jolted up, pulling away from Monica. His eyes still dialated, he let out a torturous scream, and began to tremble.

"Chandler!" Monica yelled, as panic flowed through her. Chandler had had several restless nights since his return, and several nightmares that he refused to talk about. But this was by far the worst Monica had seen him.

"Chandler!' she repeated, her voice showing signs of the panic she was feeling.

Chandler's eyes snapped into focus, as he groggily began to take in his surroundings. He finally focused on Monica's pained expression, and began to realize what had happened.

"Monica?" Chandler said softly, wanting and needing her to be real.

"Chandler, are you okay?" Monica placed her hand on his arm cautiously, not wanting to startle him.

"They were here. They wanted to kill me," Chandler rambled.

"Who?" Monica hoped that she could get Chandler to open up more. She knew who 'they' were, but Chandler didn't know that she knew.

"Them. They took--everything," Chandler whispered. He was too afraid to close his eyes again, for fear that he would open them and find that he was still with them, and the Monica that was kneeling before him was an illusion.

"Chandler, it's okay, it's going to be okay. I'm here, and I am not going to leave," Monica reassured.

"I don't know how to do--I don't know how to stop this--I want it all to go away," Chandler said.

"Then let me help you," Monica said softly, "Let *us* help you."

It was at that moment that Chandler began to realize that he was not going to be able to do this alone. Monica was right, he needed to talk to someone. But he still couldn't bring himself to talk to Monica, or the others. It was too hard. He felt Monica approach him slowly, and wrap her arm around his shoulders. He was too exhausted to fight his feelings tonight. So he let himself go, and sunk into Monica's comforting embrace, allowing himself to cry through the night.

Monica let Chandler cry on her all night, and felt herself cry with him. She wanted to tell him that everything was going to be alright, but now she felt like it just wasn't enough. She didn't know if it would be okay, and she was afraid to fill herself, or him, with false hopes. She prayed that he would agree to meet with Dr. Green. She honestly didn't know what else to do. She watched through the window, as the sun began to rise, and the promise of a new day filled the bedroom with natural light. She felt Chandler's trembling begin to let up, and she sat stoically, watching as he finally fell asleep, with his head on her lap. She sat in silence, and watched him sleep in a semi-peaceful state. She should feel tired, after being up all night, but she found that she couldn't keep her eyes off of him. She traced his jawline lightly with her finger, and stopped as her finger ran across a scar along his chin. She studied his face more closely, and found several deep scars covering his face and neck. Her mind wandered back to the photograph Sam had shown her and Joey. She felt tears sting her eyes, and anger fill her soul, as she shook the images out of her head. She wanted to kill the bastards that had done this to Chandler.
Chandler let out a long, shaky breath, and shifted on Monica's lap. She turned her attention back to him, smiling slightly. They may be going through hell right now, and they may be fighting more now than they ever had previously, but Monica wouldn't trade one strangely wonderful-yet-painful second of it. She would rather cry everyday with Chandler, than cry one more day without him.

****

"Which one is Chandler?" Leonard Green asked, as he and Rachel sat down at the restaurant.

"The one you thought was gay, Daddy," Rachel said quietly.

"That kid survived two years in a Thai prison? Wow," Leonard mused.

"Daddy, promise that you'll behave, alright?"

"Pumpkin, I know that you are worried about your friend. I am going to be on my best behaviour, I promise."

Chandler and Monica entered the restaurant, and headed toward their table.

"Oh wow. He looks awful," Leonard commented on Chandler's gaunt appearance.

"Daddy!' Rachel hissed, as Chandler and Monica approached the table.

"Hey guys," Rachel said, as they approached.

"Hey Rach, Dr. Green," Monica said, as she and Chandler sat down.

"Uh, Mon, I have to go to the ladies room," Rachel announced.

"Oh, I'll go with you!" Monica said a little too excitedly, and followed Rachel to the restroom.

"That wasn't glaringly obvious," Chandler mused, after the girls had left.

"Did Monica tell you why she brought you here?" Leonard asked.

"She thinks you would be a good person to talk to about...this," Chandler said quietly.

"Chandler, I know that you don't know me very well. And honestly, I can't keep all of you kids straight. I was sure that you were Joey," Leonard laughed.

"I get that a lot, sir," Chandler said.

"Chandler, I think that I can help you. But you have to be willing to help yourself too."

"Okay."

"I run a support group, for people who have been through, uh, similar situations. I think it could help."

"A support group?" Chandler wasn't liking the sound of this.

"And I have made and appointment for you with a friend of mine. She specializes in this kind of trauma."

"A shrink?"

"She's a psychologist, yes. This is what you need, Chandler."

"I don't know--"

"Do you want to get rid of the nightmares? The paranoia? The feeling that you can't do the same things you used to? The feeling that you don't belong?"

"How much did Rachel tell you?" Chandler asked, surprised.

"She didn't tell me anything, except that you were gone for two years. But I can see it in your eyes, Chandler. I've seen it hundreds of times before. You can't let go, until you face it head on."

"Okay," Chandler relented.

"Good. Now where are those girls? I'm starving!'

****

Chandler was quiet through most of dinner, and on the taxi ride home. Monica fretted the entire time, nervous that Chandler was angry with her for setting him up with Dr. Green like that. As they approached the apartment, Monica pulled on Chandler's arm, forcing him to look at her.

"Are you mad that I did that?"

"What? No, no, I'm not mad. I just...I guess I've just been thinking."

"About?"

"About my life. About this therapy. I feel like I've let you down," Chandler said, looking at his hands.

"Chandler," Monica took Chandler's hands in hers, "you have not let me down. You are so strong, and so brave. I don't know if I could have handled this. If I could have handled the pain you've been through. You have not let me down, not at all."

"I just want--I want to be the person I used to be."

"Chandler, look at me," Monica put her right hand on his cheek, and directed his face toward hers. "I think we both need to realize that you are never going to be that person again. You have been through something that has changed you, something that can't just be turned around. I love you, and I will always love you. No matter what."

Chandler smiled slightly, and sighed heavily. He knew that Monica was right, about him changing. But he wasn't so sure that she would always love him. Eventually, she may get tired of dealing with it all. He just didn't think that he was worth the effort. His smile faded, as he followed Monica into the apartment. Another long night loomed, and Chandler knew that as soon as he closed his eyes, his head would be filled with images of his past. Images that were so ingrained into his memory, he wondered if he would ever be able to sleep peacefully again.

****

"Chandler, why don't we start with something a little less intense. Tell me about your life before all of this happened," Dr. Kimberly Morris sat back in her large brown leather chair, looking intently at her new patient through her wire-rimmed glasses.

"Okay, well, uh--" Chandler sat on a large, overstuffed sofa, fidgeting with his hands.

"Try to relax."

"Right. Um, okay, well, I was a data processor for a big tech firm downtown. I um, was engaged to be married, and um--I, uh, I had a few really close friends and, um--"

"Do you have brothers and sisters?"

"No. My friends, they, uh, they were really my family. My parents, um--well, I didn't talk to them much."

"Why not?"

"Well, my mom is a famous romance novelist, and she is pretty self-absorbed. And my dad--" Chandler stopped talking, and began to once again think of all of the things he wished he could say to his dad now.

"Your father?" Dr. Morris interrupted Chandler's thoughts abruptly.

"He, uh, he was in a gay burlesque show in Vegas."

"He's not there anymore?"

"He's not alive anymore."

"Oh. I'm sorry. When did he--?"

"When I was in Thailand," Chandler blurted out sadly.

"How does that make you feel?"

"What?"

"You were estranged from him, right?"

"Yeah, I guess. Yes."

"He passed while you were away. How does that make you feel?"

"Like a jerk. He died thinking I hated him."

"Did you?"

"No. Maybe, on some level. But I always loved him. He's my father."

"You don't think he knew that you loved him?"

"I don't know. Look, how is this even relevant to--?"

"Everything that you are feeling is relevant, Chandler. Your feelings regarding your father are affecting you much more than you may realize. How is your relationship with your ex-fiance?"

"Monica? It's...okay, I guess."

"Are you still engaged?"

"No."

"Do you live together?"

"Yeah."

"Do you get along?"

"Not like we used to."

"Why do you think that is?"

"Shouldn't *you* be telling *me* that?" Chandler asked.

"I can't do that, I'm not a part of the relationship."

"She...she looks at me differently now."

"Do you think she still loves you?"

Chandler thought for a second before answering. That was The Question. The one he had been pondering for weeks. He wanted to believe that she did, but part of him was saying that Monica was simply holding onto the past--a past that was nonexistant now. Chandler sighed heavily, and thought carefully about his answer. While he knew that Monica would always love him on some level, the question before him, and the one he had been asking himself, was more complex than it seemed--Did Monica love him like she used to? Was he the person she wanted to spend forever with? To raise her children with? He knew that she cared, and that she wanted to love him unconditionally--but did she? Chandler thought about all that had happened, and all that had been said over the past six weeks, and decided that deep down, he knew the answer. He'd known it for a long time--he was just too scared to admit it.

"No, I don't think she does."

****

uh, okay, it ends abruptly because I am writing this when I am *supposed* to be wrapping Christmas gifts. So now I actually have to do that, I suppose. uuuugh.

More next week...Pls review!