Chandler left shortly after that without another word, but he stayed in my thoughts until I went into work again later that day. He was opening up to me and for that I was thankful. Maybe I could do something to help him heal. When I walked into the bar later that day, Frankie smiled at me as I hit the jukebox and once again started the music.

"Did you get Jack Daniels into a cab all right?" he asked.

"Yeah, no prob," I answered, smiling.

When Chandler walked into the bar that night his eyes immediately found me. His only greeting, a slight nod before he found his place at the bar and ordered his bottle of Jack Daniels. I watched him throughout the night, but his drinking wasn't as heavy as it usually was. When one of my customers pointed it out I was watching him, I smiled.

"Nancy, you know you're the only one I love," I said, kissing the older woman's cheek. "I didn't say you loved him, dear," Nancy pointed out with a sly grin. I shook my head at her with a smile and headed back to the bar to get a new round of drinks. I found myself leaning over right next to Chandler.

"Hi," I whispered, pretending that I wasn't really talking to him. He didn't answer though. He didn't even look up or even move to indicate he had heard me. I watched him from the corner of my eye but it seemed as if the only thing he cared about was the glass of JD in front of him. I nodded as if understanding his silence and moved away with my drinks.

At two o'clock, I watched him stand, toss down some money to cover his tab and head for the door. I waited, a part of me hoping he would be able to walk out and a part of me hoping he wouldn't so I could talk to him again. He stopped at the door and turned to look at me. He stared at me for the longest time before he nodded his head slightly and opened the door. I watched him through the window but he didn't go anywhere. He simply stopped and leaned against the building outside. He never moved, never looked up. He just stood there. I didn't say anything to Frankie as I bid him goodnight but when he walked out Chandler was gone. I shrugged it off and went through the clean up and restocking.

At three o'clock, I headed for the door. I had just locked it and turned around when Chandler stepped out. I gave a little yelp as he took me by surprise, "What in the hell are you doing?" I asked him

"I just wanted to say thank you for giving me a place to stay the last few nights. I didn't want to go home and I guess that's why I got drunk enough to pass out. Maybe I thought if I was too drunk to walk I wouldn't have to go back to that empty apartment," he explained. I smiled gently at him. "I thought maybe I could walk with you a little bit. I noticed when I left this morning you don't live to far from here. I guess the cab was for my benefit," he said, his shoulders hunched and his head down as if ashamed.
"Well actually it's not that hard to pick you up and carry you," I teased. "But I would like it if you walked with me for a bit."
He nodded and we began to walk towards my apartment. For the first few minutes neither one of us spoke. Then finally Chandler broke the silence.
"Silence, it's an awful sound," he said, quietly.
"Why do you say that?" I asked, looking at him as we walked.
"Silence let's in all the thoughts, all the emotions you try so hard to keep at bay. That's what I like about the bar. The noise, the people, they block it all out and they never ask anything of you."
"Except me," I teased.
"Except you. Only you're different. You don't demand I be a part of it all. You offer me the chance and if I decline you simply walk away."
"Where are your friends, Chandler? Where are all the people who love you?" I asked, touching his face.
"I've shut them out of my life for the most part. They remind me so much of her. I can't even bear to see her kids and they are so beautiful. It just hurts so much."
"Don't you think they miss you though?" I asked, stopping outside of my door.
"They are better off without my pain."
I nodded and looked toward my door then back at him.
"All you have is an empty apartment to go to," I stated more than asked. He nodded, looking away sadly. "I have a sofa you can use if you don't want to go home," I offered.
He looked at me and for the first time I saw the touch of a smile on his lips. "Thank you."
I made Chandler a bed on the sofa then knelt beside him when he laid down.
"Will you be all right, Jack Daniels?" I asked him, tucking the blanket around him.
"I hope so," he answered.
"Does your nightmare plague you every night?"
"More often then not."
"Have you been having it since her death?" He nodded yes to my question and turned away. "What was her name, Chandler?"
"Monica," he answered.

I lay awake that night waiting for him to call out to the woman he dreamt of. In his sleep we were the same person and when I heard him cry out I didn't hesitate to go to him.
This time when I knelt by his side he wasn't thrashing or reaching out for the woman in his dreams. This time he lay crying, the tears running down his cheeks.

"Chandler," I whispered, touching his face. The site in front of me was very disheartening.
I nudged him over slightly and lay with him on the sofa. His arms went instantly around me and I brushed the tears from his face.

I laid in his arms and thought about the woman he had lost. Monica, he had said her name was. What was it about her he had loved so much that life had lost it's magic without her? Where were the friends he had shut out? Why weren't they fighting for him? As I laid there in his arms in the dark I heard a distant ringing. I looked around trying to determine where it was coming from. It sounded like a telephone but it couldn't be mine, the sound was too soft. Then I realized it was coming from Chandler. I nudged him a little and discovered it was his cell phone ringing.
Not knowing what else to do, I answered it.
"Hello?" I whispered, unsure of what to do now that I had.
"Who is this?" a man demanded.
"Who is this?" I shot back. I tried to ease out of Chandler's arms so I didn't wake him but he tightened his grip in his sleep and refused to release me.
"I think I dialed the wrong number," the man answered.
"Wait," I called out before he hung up. "Who are you looking for?"
"A friend of mine. Who is this?" he demanded again.
"My name's Joey. Your friend, is his name Chandler?" I asked.
"Yeah, that's him. Is he there? Can I talk to him?" he asked.
"He's sleeping right now and he hasn't gotten much sleep lately so I don't think it's best to wake him. Who are you?" I asked the stranger on the other end of phone.
"Ross. Joey, right?"
"Yes," I answered.
"Is he all right, Joey?"
I looked up at the man that held me and watched him sleep for a moment. These were the only moments he found peace and even his peace wasn't real. His dreams deceived him, convinced him he had the one thing he missed most. Then reality tore back into his life and destroyed even that false sense of peace.
"No, he's not ok at all. He needs you, he needs all the people who love him. Why are you letting him push you away?"
"It's hard to argue with a man you can't find. He hasn't been home or at work or carrying his phone. No one has seen or heard from him in weeks," Ross explained.
"He's been with me. He's been getting smashed at my bar then passing out. He didn't have any ID to send him home so he was sleeping in the storeroom. Now he's staying at my place. He doesn't want to go home, Ross."
"Jesus, Chandler," he mumbled into the phone sounding defeated.
"Ross, did you know a Monica?" I asked, taking my chances.
"She was my sister," he answered and I had to pull the phone away so he didn't hear my gasp of surprise. "Joey?" he called out.
"I'm sorry."
"Why did you ask about her?"
"He carries a picture of her in his wallet. He misses her," I answered.
"I know. He hasn't been the same since she died. None of us have really but he's taking it the hardest. I thought maybe after a while he would be all right. Guess I was wrong."
"Did you know he was in love with her?"
"Yeah," he answered. "He and I were really close, it was obvious. My sister and him had something special, all of us were very close actually. She loved him very much. They completed each other in a sense. We all kind of completed each other in a way really."
I wasn't sure what he meant by that so I continued talking, "His love for her that's tearing him apart, he needs you," I pointed out once again.
"Who are you? How is it you know so much about him? I've known him my whole adult life and I can't get him to open up to me the way he has with you."
"I'm just a bartender with a soft heart. I don't know maybe because I represent an outside party. I've never known him before his pain. I don't expect him to be the person he was."
"And you don't push me to forget her," Chandler added.
I looked up at him and saw his blue eyes staring down at me.
"I didn't mean to wake you," I told him, forgetting about the phone I held in my hand. "I tried to get up but you wouldn't let go of me."
He nodded then looked at the phone. "Who is it?"
"Ross," I answered.
"Just tell him I'm okay. I don't want to talk to him right now. Tell him I'll call later," Chandler said, watching me.
"Promise?" I asked him.
"Promise."
"Ross," I said, raising the phone back to my ear.
"I heard him. Thank you, Joey. For whatever it is you are doing, thank you."
And with that we ended the call. I turned off Chandler's phone and placed in on the floor next to us.
Do you make it a habit of answering other people's private phone calls?" he asked me.
"If I think the person needs sleep more than the conversation, yes. He's worried about you," I added.
"Well, he shouldn't worry, none of them should. I'm fine, he said turning his face away.
"How can you say that, Chandler? You spend your nights getting drunk, and then sleep in bars, but when you sleep you wake up screaming. How can you say you're fine?" I asked, gently turning his face back towards me. "You're not fine, Chandler."
"So maybe I'm not. I'm alone though."
"Only because you choose to be. You have people who care about you yet you push them away. You complain of your empty apartment and of being alone when you choose to be that way," I pointed out.
"Even they can't fill my home. They have their own families, wives, husbands, children."
"So you push them away to hold on to your pain?" I asked. "Were you friends with her husband?"

"Sort of, he's a nice guy. His name is Richard, and old family friend of hers. They were crazy about each other, but I don't want to talk about them anymore," he said, sitting up.
"How did she die?" I asked quietly.
"She had a brain tumor," he answered, his eyes clouding over.
"So she died slowly?"
"No, she just lived fast. One minute she was shopping for the baby she was never going to see and the next she was gone. She never even knew she was going to be a mother of twins."
"I don't understand," I said, confused. His words didn't make any sense.
"Monica knew she didn't have much time, but she wanted a baby so much. So she asked a friend to carry her baby for her. Rachel was barely into her pregnancy when Monica died. They didn't find out for four more months that the baby she wanted so much was twins."
"Have you been to see them?"
"A few times. They are so much like her though. Especially Star, she looks exactly like her mother."
"But knowing they will never know her hurts, doesn't it?"
"Why are you doing this to me?" he demanded, standing up.
"Doing what?" I countered, standing as well.
"Just stop! Just stop," he yelled.
Before I had a chance to react he crumbled to the floor crying, sobs racking his body.
"Oh, Chandler," I whispered, kneeling and pulling him into my arms.
I held him like a child and let his tears fall. I wondered if he had ever cried at all when Monica died.