Thanks to all who reviewed! :) I'm sorry I killed Joey, but don't worry, everything will turn out to be fiiine I think…smiles a big secretive smile

I have never been a religious person. Ever since I was a kid, my parents never forced me into any sort of practice for reasons still known only to them. Sure I celebrate Christmas, but that's because everyone does it. Sure, I use the word 'God' in a lot of ways but that's about as far as it goes. I've never been quite sure of a 'God', which is probably why I didn't go diving into any religion even when I grew older and got out of my mother's hair. Not that it bothered me though. I think the classification that would suit my situation best would be 'agnostic'.

I wish I wasn't.

That one time in my life, when we lost Joey, I wished I did believe in something, though I didn't know for what purpose. Someone to blame? Someone to yell at? Someone I could ask my unanswered questions to?

Unlike me, Joey had been Catholic, and for the first time I wished I'd known more about what his beliefs had been. I'd never actually seen him practice them, but I do remember catching him cross himself on more than one occasion. One time, I'd even interrupted him while 'praying'.

"Joe—"

He'd whipped around as soon as I entered his room like I'd caught him doing something illegal. He'd been sitting on his bed with his back turned to me.

"Sssh!!" he'd told me.

I'd stood by the door, wondering what he was up to.

"What're you doing?"

He'd shushed me again, then after a few mumblings, turned around and told me, "I'm praying, all right?"

I'd been surprised. Joey'd never prayed before.

"Praying? What for?"

"Lot of stuff. Tickets to the big game, good dinner…you want me to put you and Monica in?"

His words had stopped me, but then I'd shrugged and had given a hesitant, "Sure, why not?"

"Okay," he'd said. "Now go away before God decides not to listen to me anymore!"

I'd left him alone, thinking that maybe he hadn't gone through enough Bible School as a kid. Back then, the memory of it used to make me laugh. Now it reduces me to tears no one else sees.

I never attended Joey's wake. It was a terrible thing to go through. His family wanted it to be an open casket and I just couldn't bring myself to even set foot inside the chapel. I spent the entire week of it alone in the apartment while the others paid their respects. No one could get me out of my room when they were around. I stole away at night so I could sit in the living room and look out the window and think. I didn't cry. Tears just weren't enough.

The day of the funeral was the first time the others, including Monica, saw me for the first time since after the accident. I could see the girls holding back tears when I came out of my room.

"Oh honey…" Monica covered her mouth with her hands at the sight of me. They'd been in the living room, conversing in whispers. When I appeared, they'd stopped.

"Chandler…" was all they could say.

I knew I looked awful. I felt awful. I felt old and useless and fragile. My ankle was still bandaged from the accident and so was my palm. I hadn't shaved, my eyes had bags underneath them and my hair was becoming difficult to deal with. I'd also grown thinner. My clothes didn't fit right anymore.

"Let's go," I told them grimly before they could say another word. I limped ahead to get to the door. "We might be late,"

I didn't want any hugs or any reassurances. I still wanted to be alone. Thankfully, my friends respected my space.

Nobody spoke on the way to the cemetery. The tension inside the cab was thick. I knew they wanted to talk to me, but nobody tried to start any conversation. I spent the whole trip staring out of the window, watching New York zoom by. Some time later, I felt Monica slip her hand into mine and give it a small squeeze. I didn't have to look to see why.

We were there. I could see the cemetery gates open to let the line of cars through.

I fought the urge to hurl.

"We remember Joseph Francis Tribbiani as a loyal son…"

I kept my head down as the priest spoke. We were in the second row behind Joey's family: a long line of sisters, aunts, uncles and cousins. I stood between Monica and Rachel. At the mention of the word 'son', Mrs. Tribbiani gave a loud sob and buried her head in her husband's shoulder. Every cry she made pierced through me like a lance.

"…brother…"

At the word, his sisters held each other, shedding tears and whispering words of consolation to each other for comfort. One rushed to a male cousin for comfort. I felt guilt and sadness envelope me again. Joey had been my brother too.

"…friend…"

I shut my eyes and felt as the lump in my throat grew and grew. I didn't let my tears come. Joey had been a loyal friend. In fact, he'd been more than loyal. I couldn't remember a time when he'd gone against me and I felt guilty knowing that I'd gone against him more than enough times. He'd always been there, I wasn't. I remembered when he'd begged me for a foosball game just a week before.

One game. A lousy half-hour or so of my time and I didn't even give it to him.

But in the end he gave me his whole life and I hadn't even asked for it.

Monica started to cry and so did Rachel. I put my thoughts aside and pulled them close to me on instinct to comfort them.

"He will forever be missed…"

You don't know how much, I thought almost bitterly. I could feel the girls' tears seeping through my clothes but I paid no attention. I was now focusing on the coffin up front. It was long and sleek with a color that seemed to be a mix of black and blue. I couldn't imagine Joey being inside of it. I couldn't imagine him lying inside, motionless, with eyes that would never open, a mouth that would never smile and feet that wouldn't be clumping around again. I wanted to yell. I was older than he was. I was supposed to have protected him.

Phoebe and Ross squeezed in for a hug. Their cheeks were all wet. We pulled into a tight hug. I needed it as much as they did.

"Oh…oh…" Rachel moaned softly.

"He's gone…" Monica said in a tortured voice. "I just…I just can't accept that he's gone,"

"It's okay, it's okay…" comforted Ross, his voice breaking. He sounded like he was being strangled.

Okay. I didn't know if anything was ever going to be okay. It was a lie and Ross knew it.

"…the final goodbye now, please," I caught the priest saying. We pulled away from each other and looked up. The priest had stopped talking and had stepped aside, waiting for the crowd to come over. He was clutching the Bible to his chest.

"Oh…this is the last time…this is the last time we can talk to him…" said Rachel, her hands to her mouth. "I can't do it…"

"We have to honey, he was our friend…we have to be there for him…" Monica told her with a hug. "It'll be okay…it'll be just fine…"

I watched as they inched out of our spot and followed the Tribbianis towards the coffin. Ross patted my shoulder as he passed to follow Monica and Rachel, Phoebe behind them.

"You okay, man?" he asked.

"Yeah," I lied, then added a low "No," after it.

"I know," he said softly. He gave me another pat and walked away to catch up with the girls. I let myself fall onto my seat and hunched forward with my hands clasped together. My chest tightened as Joey's parents reached out to touch his coffin.

"My baby…" his mother gave a strangled cry. "My Joey…"

If her husband hadn't been there to hold her, I didn't doubt that she'd drape her arms over the wood and sob all night long. I didn't blame her. If I'd been her, I'd probably do worse things. She was, in fact, being braver than I was.

Once the family was done, Monica and the others stepped up. I wanted to hear what they were going to say, but at the same time I didn't. It would just remind me that I was the bastard who'd caused every feeling of pain they were experiencing right now. I only strained my ears to catch a few words.

"Hey…I miss you already Joey…I'll miss all those nights you'd come into our apartment and raid our fridge…"

Monica had to be led off by Ross because she began crying. Rachel didn't say anything; she just kissed the coffin then took Monica so Ross could say goodbye. Ross had started with a few words, but then, stopped.

"Well, Joe…this is it…you know…" This was where he stopped, then after a moment, began speaking again. "I'll…I'll see you buddy…" He gave the coffin a pat, like he'd been talking to a real person. I envied him. At least he had the right words to say for once.

Phoebe was the last. She had a daisy crown in her hands.

"Hey, you know…you remember the time you told me…to…to make you one of these…'cause…'cause Ross had asked for one? Well, I'm sorry I forgot…but I still made you one, see? Oh…I don't know what to say anymore…" she threw up her hands, tears spilling down her cheeks. She put the daisy crown on the coffin and 'hugged' it. "I love you love you love you, Joey Tribbiani,"

I stood up. I couldn't stand it any longer. Everyone turned to look at me.

"I have to go…" I muttered and started to limp away before anyone could stop me. I didn't know where I was supposed to go. Somewhere. Anywhere. As long as it would take me away from where everyone was.

"Chandler…" I heard Monica say, but I didn't stop. I didn't want anyone to see me.

Who was I to inflict this much pain on any of them? Who was I to take away the Tribbianis only son?

I grimaced as my ankle hurt me.

Good, I thought. I hoped it stayed that way. I deserved to have it. I wished it never healed.

I stopped at an empty spot to rest. My foot was throbbing like crazy. No one was around to hear me. I let myself fall to the ground, panting, my face red and my chest about to burst. I let the silence wrap around me and then held my face in my hands.

I cried.