In Which Things Get Worse Before They Can Get Better

In a rare and paradoxically importunate moment of optimism, Chandler thought that it was probably an extraordinarily convenient time for her to break it off (he preferred to avoid the term 'dump') with him. None of his friends would see any change in his already miserable state; they wouldn't see him at all.

She had said she loved him.

He knew he had other things to worry about, much larger things. Even so, those words had replaced the doctor's in his head; successfully drowning out all other thought. She loved him. It was ironic. He had always suspected that their relationship would fail because she didn't love him as much as he loved her. She had loved him this time.

But it wasn't enough.

Because he was diseased.

Suddenly Chandler could feel it crawling over his body- like an army of red ants. Of course, it figured that this would happen to him. When Fate decided to make someone's life miserable, it went all out.

This whole ordeal made him feel as if he had a constant hangover; and he tried not to wonder whether it was grief or merely symptoms. He wouldn't know; the pamphlets that the doctor had given him were stuffed in the back of his sock drawer.

Chandler wanted to tell the others, but had the sick feeling that they already knew, and wanted nothing to do with them. Surely Ross hadn't been able to resist telling them all something so big, and wouldn't they have come and talked to him by now? Chandler didn't want to dwell on the possibilities.

So he sat holed up in his room; tucked underneath the old posters and the hole in the wall from his own private game of Hammer Darts.

Something had to be done, Joey was sure of it. Everyone else seemed to be counting on fact that Chandler would come around, but he hadn't. Three days had escalated into over a week.

And then there were four. Ross had disappeared, too, and Joey had checked to make sure that he wasn't with Chandler. Problem was, he couldn't find Chandler. He heard him in his bedroom, saw cereal and other dry goods disappear from the cupboards when he got up in the mornings, occasionally heard the shower running.

Joey grew afraid to go down to the coffeehouse; afraid that Chandler would be gone completely when he got back; afraid of the awkward silences Chandler's jokes used to fill; of the armrest of the ratty orange couch that you could actually rest your arm on because Chandler wasn't sitting on it.

He'd checked Chandler's office, only to find that Chandler had taken an extended leave of absence.

The truth was, Chandler had already disappeared, in every true sense of the word.

None of them were facing reality. They had all gone down to see Ross when he hadn't come for breakfast, only to find he wasn't there. Monica had eventually thought to call her mother, and found that Ross was staying with their parents. Judy blamed it on Rachel, although she managed to slip in some not-so-subtle barbs about Monica in the process. Monica found the words stuck in her throat when she tried to tell the others. The mere fact that 'the others' now consisted only of Phoebe and Rachel (Joey was never at the coffeehouse anymore, and Monica was afraid to even look in the direction of apartment 19) made her force down a sob.

It was ruined, Monica thought faintly. How could it be ruined?

It was Joey that had forced them all to see the game they were playing, but it was Phoebe that finally put an end to it.

Chandler heard the door bang open and wondered distractedly if they were being burgled. It was about time, really; they hadn't locked the front door for the past five years. He sat up blearily, head ringing (this time he was pretty sure it's a result of lack of any real sleep rather than symptoms) when he heard pounding on his bedroom door.

"Chandler, open up right now!" Phoebe screeches, and he felt a sudden pang of nostalgia as he realized that he hadn't heard Phoebe's voice in 8 days. It was unusual for any them to go even one day without seeing one another. This whole event had a surreal, nightmarish feel to it, and Chandler briefly considered pinching himself to see if he was actually awake. There wasn't much time to do anything though, because the door suddenly flew open (had Joey finally taught her how to pick locks?) and Phoebe burst in, armed with a bag that clinked when she set it forcefully down on the dresser.

"What is wrong with you?" Phoebe nearly spat, and Chandler tried to decide whether to answer truthfully or not. It appeared to be a rhetorical question, however, as Phoebe went on before he could decide. "Look, Chandler, I love you, we all love you, but if you don't tell us what the fuck is going on, I'm gonna have to smack you! You can't just shut us out, Chandler, you can't."

You can't shut us out….

I can't do this, Chandler….

You will be receiving the results….

I'll see you…no wait, I won't….

You obviously don't understand….

Your father and I are getting divorced, sweetie….

The voices blurred together in his head; a reminder of how he'd failed everyone; how everyone had failed him.

why don't you, did you read the pamphlets, don't do, you aren't doing, try, don't, no, won't, can't.

"Chandler? Are you alright!" Chandler opened his eyes to see Phoebe staring wildly at him, waving her arms wildly to try and get his attention. When he looked up at her, she stopped. And when she spoke again, her voice was softer. "We miss you too much, Chandler. And we know it may be selfish of us, but we need you. We need you to make us laugh and…and laugh at our expense. We need you to come to us for help."

"Phoebe." Chandler got shakily to his feet. He wasn't sure what was going to say, or even what needed to be said, so he just hugged her. She hugged him back, and they stood there together for a long moment.

Finally she pulled away, eyes suspiciously bright. "Chandler, you really stink. Go take a shower. And then we'll talk. All of us. If you don't want to leave, I'll bring everyone here. Just give me a warning so I can clean up first, all right? Because I don't want Monica to have an aneurysm."

It wasn't until two hours later and a series of meditations Phoebe had made Chandler do involving herbs from her bag that Chandler got the full story of what had been going on the week that he was "away".

"Pheebs? I- I think you're right; that I, uh, have to tell all of you what's going on. But first, I want to go get Ross."

"But he already knows, doesn't he?" Phoebe asked matter-of-factly, and Chandler promptly choked on his gum.

"How do you do that?" he asked, once he had his breathing back under control. Phoebe smirked.

"I'm psychic, remember?" Off Chandler's stare, she relented. "Okay, it was a logical guess."

"Who'd have thought you'd ever use the word logical? Ross must be rubbing off on you."

Phoebe smiled. It was nice to see Chandler joking, although it was obvious whatever was wrong was pretty serious. Even though he had seemed eager to hear about everyone, there had been a distracted, nervous air to him that hadn't yet dissipated. "Speaking of which, you said something about going to get him. He's at his parents."

"Can we borrow your mother's cab?"

AN: Okay, so I know Phoebe was extremely OC (out of character) in this chapter, but she needed to be. Please review!