"Go with me to Mike's party tomorrow?"

The voice on the other end of my phone belonged to Chandler. He sounded scared and lonely as he invited, or maybe I should say begged me to go with him.

"How did you sleep, Chandler?" I asked, ignoring his question for moment as I glanced at the clock. It was one o'clock in the afternoon.

"I woke you up, didn't I?" he asked, now ignoring my question.

"How did you sleep, Chandler?" I repeated.

"She smiled at me when I asked. Then she was gone. No walking away, no running after her. It just ended," he admitted.

"Because she knew and now you know."

"So will you come with me tomorrow?"

'I don't know if I can, Chandler. I have plans for the better part of the day," I admitted.

"What?" he asked. I could tell by the sound of his voice that he was surprised. My life had been completely his for so long. He must have assumed I didn't have much of a social life.

"I'm going to see a friend," I answered.

"Who?" he pressed.

"His name is Kane and I can't cancel," I explained.

"Want some company?" he offered softly.

"Why would you want to go with me?" I countered, hoping he would give me the answer I wanted to hear.

His answer was silence at first. Then quietly," I don't want to be alone anymore."

My smiled was slow but as it spread across my face I felt something in my heart jump with joy. He was taking a step.

"What time is the party?" I asked.

"Five o'clock," he said.

"Would you mind be late?"

"Not really," he answered and I was positive I heard him give a little laugh.

"My place ten tomorrow morning, got it?" I asked, grinning though he couldn't see it.

"Got it."

"Chandler?"

"Yeah?"

"Will you be at the Lonely Star tonight?" I asked softly.

"I don't know, Joey. If I do I can't promise it won't be to nurse a bottle. I don't know if I can stand the silence all night," he admitted.

"I understand," I answered with just a little more hope.

With a well-placed hit I set the jukebox going as I walked into the bar later that night.

" How's it going, Joe?" Frankie greeted.
"Its going, Frankie. How are the girls today?" I asked, putting my bag behind the bar.
"Good. Jody has her first date next weekend," he said, his face contorted in mock pain.
"Oh your baby is growing up on you, Frankie?" I teased.

At eight o'clock that night I looked up at the door to see Chandler standing there. He nodded slightly before heading to his stool at the end of the bar. With baited breath, I watched him give Frankie his order. I think my sight of relief was audible above the blaring of the music as Frankie handed him a cup of coffee. When I finally made my way to his side I took a seat on the stool next to him.

"Okay?" I asked over the blaring music.
"Okay," he answered, not looking at me as he stared into his coffee cup.

I watched his face. He was struggling so hard with his demons. The demons of loving and losing a woman that was never his. It was taking all his will power and strength not to order a drink.

"All the chances it takes, Chandler," was all I said, touching his knee as I stood.

He turned just enough so his eyes caught mine and very slowly the corners of his mouth began to lift just slightly.

"Thank you," he said, his voice still somehow soft over all the noise.

I smiled at him and returned to working. I watched him throughout the night, my heart swelling just a little more with hope every time Frankie poured him another cup of coffee.
At two o'clock I walked Frankie to the door.

"Night, Frankie," I said.
"Night, Joey. Have a good day off tomorrow," he answered, smiling at me. He lifted his eyes over my head to look back at the bar. "JD," was all he said, giving Chandler a brief nod.

I closed the door and locked it behind him. Turning the open sign to closed, I began my nightly ritual. Wiping down the tables, I looked up to see Chandler across the bar scrubbing down tables.

"When did you realize you were gay?" he asked suddenly.

"In high school." I said taken aback by his sudden question, but then continued. "It took a while for me to realize it. I just went along with everyone else, you know, I thought I'd grow up, meet a girl and marry her and have kids. That's what everyone expected, no one ever said you'd have to discover your sexual orientation and then deal with everything that brings. Anyway, I realized I was gay when I went to the football games with my friends because they wanted to check out the cheerleaders. Instead, I found myself more interested in the players, I never said anything to them though. I was never really sure what that meant, but I remember when I first kissed another guy, I knew then that I was gay and there was nothing I could do about it." I explained, smiling at the memory.

"The guys and everyone I know all thought I was gay when they first met me," he admitted, moving to another table.

"Really? Did they say exactly why they thought that?"

"Not really, only that I had a certain quality? But the gay men at my work never thought I was gay, I'm guessing you didn't think that either." he asked. I grinned at him for a moment before answering.

"No, I didn't get that vibe from you, mainly because all I really know about you is that you love Monica. You are much more comfortable than most straight men though when I touch you." I answered.

"Under normal circumstances I wouldn't be, but I don't know. There's something about you," he said, quietly as he returned to wiping.

"So how do you get people to stop thinking you're gay?" I asked, returning to the previous topic.

"I yell at them, among other things," he laughed, "There's nothing I can really do. I mean I guess I can see why a little, I used to get pedicures, I loved to watch E! and the Thanksgiving parade instead of the football game, I have two soundtracks of the musical Annie. I don't know, I was always just a sensitive guy. I have found some men to be attractive though, I kissed one once in Atlantic City."

I laughed and threw my cloth in the sink as I walked behind the bar. "I'm gay and I don't do or have any of those things you just mentioned. I mean, yes many gay men do all those other things, but just because a man gets a pedicure doesn't make him gay. Straight men just need to define the behavior of gay men so that they aren't mistaken for one, you just got caught in the game of stereotyping, my friend. I love sports, I prefer beer over any other drink, the only thing I have ever done to my nails is bite them, and I know absolutely nothing about fashion," I said as I continued to clean.

"Yeah, I know. I guess it also has to do with my father to. He ran out on me and my mom because he was gay. He didn't fully realize it I guess until late in his life. It really hurt me, made me kind of prejudice in my childhood actually. I realized later though that hardly any gay people abandon their family to start their own gay burlesque show in Vegas. My grandfather was gay too, I still wonder how I was ever born," he admitted, giving me the cloths.

"Well that surely sounds like a nice, normal family," I stated sarcastically

He laughed, "Not at all, not at all. I didn't speak with my father for years, and I resented both my parents my entire life. I did finally manage to start some kind of relationship with them a few years ago. I stopped talking to them again though when Monica died," he said quietly.

"Have you thought about seeing them again? Maybe they can help?" I suggested.

"My parents don't know the first thing about love and hurt and pain, they both have a different man each month" he answered, turning away.

"Chandler," I said, reaching across the bar to touch his hand. "Chandler I'm sure they love you and would do anything to help you, you just need to ask for help" I explained.

"I don't know how to anymore," he said, looking at me.

Looking at him, I sighed sadly and changed the subject. "Did you ever love anyone else besides Monica? Any serious relationships?" I asked this cautiously, I didn't know if I was stepping over some boundaries, or if it would be too painful for him to think about it.

"I never had a long-term serious relationship actually. I only had two that were sort of serious, but they went nowhere. I was never good at the dating thing, I don't know what it is about me, I guess my personality and my looks. That about covers everything," he said with a little laugh.

"I doubt it's your personality or your looks," I said to him as I straightened out some glasses behind the bar.

"Are you saying I'm attractive?" he asked, sitting at a chair at one of the tables.

"Do you need me to answer that question, or is it already set in your mind what you think about yourself?" I countered, looking at him.

"It's different to hear it from someone who has seen inside of you to your fear and your pain and who has given you hope that maybe the rest of your life won't be filled with darkness," he answered, quietly.

"You're still asking for an answer that is worthless if you don't believe it yourself. I could tell you you're gorgeous and if you don't believe it then it was a waste of my breath. I do though. You're one of the handsomest men I've ever met, Chandler. The question is do you believe it?" I asked, lifting his chin so his blue eyes met my brown.

"To yes would make me sound conceited though and no would make me sound pathetic and insecure, wouldn't it?" he countered.

"Yeah," I answered, smiling. "Which is exactly the answer I was hoping for. Come on, Bing. You and I have a busy day tomorrow and we need our sleep," I said, standing.

I reached out to take his hand but he jerked away as if afraid of me. I watched him in silence, his eyes filled with pain, his face contorted in anguish. Our light-hearted banter disappeared in a matter of seconds to be replaced with his broken heart once again. What had triggered it so quickly?

"Monica use to call me her Bing," he whispered, stepping back from me.

So that was it. I had given him a reminder of his pain, of the woman who had changed his life in love and death. He could remember her and hurt or he could forget and move forward. He hadn't yet learned to balance them both. He still didn't understand that he could remember her and still live. Slowly, I took a few steps toward him still we stood face to face again.

"When I called you Bing what was your first thought? Your very first thought, Chandler," I asked.

"I thought about her smile whenever she called me that," he answered. I could see the barest hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth as he thought of her.

"Then what?" I continued.

"Then I remembered I was never going to see that smile again," he said, looking away.

"But you have that memory. Those memories of a woman who smiled at you and made you feel wonderful. You're going to let your pain over-shadow those beautiful memories?" I asked.

He stood silently staring into the darkness around us for a few moments. He was once again fighting the demons that haunted him. It was a struggle I still remembered all too well from losing Alex.

"Alex use to call me Gelato," I offered, grinning at the thought. "Mainly because I'm Italian, but when we first started dating I was in this play, and next to the theatre was this little Italian Bistro where I'd stop to get something to eat every night after the show. Well, in my younger days I was very clumsy, I never managed to get through a meal without spilling something on me, especially dessert. So after I stained half the shirts I owned with Gelato, he started calling me that. He said it was also because I was sweet, but I don't know if he just made that up afterwards," I admitted.

He was right," Chandler added quietly.

"He was in love," I corrected. "That's love. It's finding all those funny little things and making them into something that you always remember with a smile."

"He was right though, you are a very sweet person."

"And yet that memory only makes me love him all the more," I answered.

"Are you still in love with him?" he asked, quietly.

"I'll always be in love with him, Chandler. He'll always be my first real love, the man who woke my heart up. But his greatest gift to me was teaching me what it was to love so much so that when I lost him I could love like that again. I'll always love him but I will love someone else just as much and just as strongly again," I answered.

"Do you think I'll be able to love like that again?"

"If you want to your heart will let you do anything. If gives you all the chances you need till you get it right, Chandler. Till you love like you never thought you could possibly love."

A/N: Monica never really had a nickname for Chandler so I made one up, that's the beauty of fiction.