--------------------

X

--------------------

Drip.. drip.. drip.. drip.. pirD..pirD. Chandler sat cross-legged on the bathroom floor, arms folded ontop of the tub, his chin resting on his forearms. He watched the faucet as it slowly dripped water, and even reversed and took the water back.

Silence.

Except for the steady drip that thumped through his head like a heart beat.

After breaking from his 'bug' trance on the couch, he had acknowledged Monica's existence, assured her that he was perfectly fine and that the doctor had been worth it, as the pain in his back had magically disappeared. She had accepted that with a smile and had gone about her own business, beginning to prepare dinner. Chandler had told her he was going to have a quick shower and then the two would sit down to eat.

He had been fine until the bathroom door had been locked. His brain began to over stimulate once more and the dripping had intrigued him. He hadn't even fully realized what he was doing, sitting down and sinking his chin to his arms. The faucet was crying. Silent tears that wouldn't stop leaking.

His eyes looked downward at where the drops were falling.

Happiness - splatter.

Love - splatter.

Pain - splatter.

Death... - spllllattter.

A drop stopped in midarir and hung, suspended in space. He studied it quizzically.

"Chandler! Why isn't the water running?!" Monica called out from beyond the washroom door. He heard her but didn't answer. The drop continued to fall at the sound of her voice as if reality had been brought back. He moved his eyes up to the faucet handles and they turned and water spilled out and into the tub.

Chandler was confused. He blinked. No water, and no drops even. He rubbed his eyes again.

"Chandler?" She was right outside the door now. He turned his brain inside out searching for a believable excuse.

"Uh, was just pretending I was Superman in front of the mirror," Chandler called back.

"Again?" Monica laughed and then was back to the kitchen.

Chandler slowly stood up and then had a wild dizzy spell. He squeezed his eyes shut to stop the spinning and used the side of the sink for balance.

Once the spell had passed, he started the water - for real- and took the shower.

---------------------

Dinner smelled.. nauseating. Monica was a fantastic chef of course, but Chandler just wasn't in the mood for spaghetti and meatballs. He just assumed it was one of those side effects they always blabbed through really fast on drug commercials,

"Ask your doctor if Zoloft is right for you.. Side effects may include: dry mouth, nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, mood swings, depression, drowsiness, frequent urination, loss of appettite, migraines, psychoticness, genital herpes and warts, kidney, liver, heart and brain failure, and death."

Chandler didn't think anything of it. It was either his turning stomach of his broken back. He could handle a little extra pain for the gain.

"Seriously Mon, It's not your meatballs. I would rip out my eyeballs with a rusty fork and then slooowwyly pull myself along the floor, begging.. and pleading.. for just ONE -teeny tiny little- meatball-"

"Are we done? Or should I sit down for this?" Monica joked and started to pull one of the kitchen chairs out.

"Okay, okay. I need professional help," Chandler said as if he was admitting the hardest thing in the world. Monica smiled and walked over to him, putting her right hand on his chest and wrapping her left around his back.

"You're in luck. Dr. Monica is free alll night long," she grinned up at him with that seductive smile of hers.

"Hmm really.. Well I know I had - HAVE- this, oooh pain in my-" Chandler went to touch his back and act in pain even though it had completely disappeared.

Monica's smile widened.

"In that case.. I'll be right back," she tapped his once lightly on the chest and escaped from his arms to retreat to their bedroom for a moment.

Chandler ran both hands roughly through his hair trying to 'feel normal'. He still felt a tad sick, still smelling the food. He walked around to the couch and collapsed down onto the middle cushion.

Impulsively, he looked back at the same section of wall that had had the black dot earlier.

It was there.

In the exact same place, unmoving, yet moving. His eyes began to blur as the staring started up again, but he blinked hard and looked at the section of wall on the right side of the tv.

There was a second dot. A second dot?! Or was it the same dot and it had somehow burned permanently into his retinas and it would forever haunt his vision where ever he looked. The dot taunting him on it's size and shape. Always that so he could just see it, but never know exactly what it was. Just taunting him over and over and over.

Chandler shut his eyes and there was black for a second and then exploding fireworks of colors. Dots. All over the place.

He instantly fell asleep.

Monica came out of the room a moment later, wearing Chandler's favorite lingerie and first saw him sprawled out on the couch snoring away in a deep slumber. She felt a tinge of disappointment, but let him be and then got quite excited over the fact that now she would be able to clean the entire kitchen without any weird looks. Maybe she would even pull out the brand new rubber gloves she had purchased for such an occasion.

The spaghetti leftovers she would bring over to Joey's. He was Italian after all.

---------------------

It seemed like years that Chandler sat staring at the mysterious black thing in his mind, rotating and molding itself in his dream, but in fact it had only been a few hours. Immediately, the dot disappeared and his dream was black. So black, that he didn't even know if he was still 'dreaming' or not because pure black usually wasn't considered a dream.

His eyes snapped open. He was on the floor. Well, half on the floor. His legs were still relatively on the couch, but his entire lower body was on the floor before the coffee table. That was the first thing he realized and then it was that the pain in his back had returned. The twisted position he was in didn't help any either.

Not yet knowing the time or where Mon was, Chandler let his legs fall to the ground so it would be easier to get up and get that pill.

He mumbled out something out something and used his upper body strength to get up when the apartment door burst open and Ross and Rachel entered followed by an excited Joey.

"Did you guys see that alien kill that hot girl? Why did he kill the hot girl? WHO WOULD KILL A HOT GIRL?" Joey stopped, and all three paused just beyond the door, looking down at Chandler who was still laying on the floor.

Chandler looked up at them with wide eyes and then looked behind him.

"Monica's got me on lint duty," he answered and started to pick non- existent lint from a nearby carpet.

All three of them at the door paused for a second later and then quickly resumed what they were doing, knowing that Chandler's story could certainly be plausible.

"Rach, do you want something to drink?" Ross opened the fridge and stuck his head inside.

As Rachel answered, "sure" and put her purse down on the kitchen table, Joey went on about the hot girl.

"Hot girl did not deserve to die!" he proclaimed and stuck his finger in the air.

"Sure Joe," Ross took out two diet cokes and handed one to Rachel who was walking over to the arm chair next to the couch.

Monica emerged from the bedroom then, back in regular clothes.

"Oh, you're up, it's about time," she told Chandler as soon as he stood up fully. Lint duty could wait.

Ross and Monica greeted eachother and Ross took the liberty to take the seat on the couch closest to Rachel's chair.

"That movie was horrible, why'd you drag me there?" Rachel asked Ross and put his open coke down on the coffee table overtop of a coaster. Before Ross could even answer, Joey barked out again from behind the couch, "Why did hot girl have to die?!"

Chandler smirked at Joey's agonizing emotion to the movie that he had been to and walked into the kitchen to grab another pill since it had been roughly six hours.

"How's the back, sweetie?" Monica asked him quietly as he found the pill cannister and opened the 'child proof' lid.

"Nothing these magic super pills won't take care of," he answered with a small smile and reached for a glass to fill with water.

Monica hoovered close to him again, hand on his arm.

"You know, Dr. Monica's office doesn't close for another couple hours.." she hinted.

Chandler took the pill quickly and then kissed her forehead.

"I think I may have to take an emergency stop at your office in about an hour," he grinned.

"Yes!" Monica cheered.

They both walked back to the living room.

----------------------------

After that hour had passed, nobody had left the apartment and Monica hadn't even noticed the time. Chandler sat on the far right end of the couch, right arm on the armrest, staring straight ahead.

The dot had completely disappeared this time (yes he had looked), but now there was.. this feeling. It was indescribable. Chandler turned his eyes down to the coffee table and watched Ross' half empty coke can. It was vibrating.

Maybe not so much 'vibrating'.. But it kept moving as if Godzilla was stomping his way through New York City every few seconds, getting close and closer.

He turned his head an inch to the left so his eyes were not bleeding from the strain and continued to watch the 'haunted' coke can bounce. Every bounce got bigger and threatened to tip. Mon would have a literal heart attack if the coke spilled all over the coffee table, soaking the magazines.

"Yeah, so the kid told me if I didn't give him an A in my class, he would spread around that I'm gay."

"What did you say?"

Chandler's attention went to Mon, Ross and Rahcel for a second, who were engrossed in Ross' story, oblivious to the sugary mayhem that was about to happen.

He looked back down at the coke can; it was now off the coaster. Nobody had touched it. What the hell?

The can started to rotate in circles on the bottom, ready to spill. Chandler clenched the edge of the couch wondering what the hell was going on. How did nobody else see this? Was he doing this with his mind? He didn't look away.

The soda can tipped on one end directly over a newspaper and stopped, again, suspended in space. He swallowed and blinked, feeling that his eyes would bug out from his head.

When he opened them again and the soda can crashed on it's side, spilling the brown liquid all over the table surface, soaking all the magazines and papers, then started to drip down and off the table to the floor.

Chandler ripped himself away from the couch and stood up frantically, pointing at the table in horror. Not just at the fact that there was a mess, but that no physical person had moved the can themself.

The group stopped talking and looked up at him like he was insane.

"What?" Ross asked and looked at the table over the mess. "What's wrong?"

Now they were all just concerned.

Chandler rubbed his eyes and ran his hands through his now sweaty hair. He looked back at the table.

Nothing.

No spill, no tipped coke can. Everything was fine.

They all waited for him to speak. Monica stood up and held his arm.

"What's wrong? You're scaring me-"

"Uh.." He shook out of the trance. "Uh nothing, I just.. need some air." He put his right hand in his pocket and started for the kitchen. If Monica would stop looking at him, he could grab something out of his 'special hiding place'.

"Really, I'm fine, keep talking, I'm just going to get a glass of water first," he assured the group. They seemed unsure but turned back; Monica very reluctant to.

Before ditching out the front door, he swiftly grabbed a half pack of cigarettes hidden behind a small bag of flour, and then left the apartment.

-------------------------