AN: Thanks for the reviews! Just to clarify, Joey was at an audition when Phoebe staged an intervention on Chandler's behalf, so that's why he didn't ask what the hell was going on. I'm not very happy with this chapter, but I couldn't work with very much in this chapter.

MCEJBing: Yeah, that does make sense! I've always loved Phoebe, and was disappointed when Chandler and Phoebe never had any "bonding" moments in the actual sitcom. So I invented my own.

"Can Ross come out and play?" Chandler asked jokingly, then winced when he received only a stony stare in reply.

Judy Geller stared suspiciously at Chandler and Phoebe. They did make an odd pair: Chandler with his sweater vest buttoned up crookedly ('Was he high when he was getting dressed?' Judy thought derisively) and Phoebe with her eccentric clothing and jewelry.

"Can I help you two?"

"Uh, yeah, um, you remember us, right? We're friends of Ross," Chandler said hesitantly. He looked rather peaky, Judy noted. And unshaven.

"Yes," she said, unable to suppress a sneer. Chandler looked alarmed. Phoebe sighed impatiently.

"Look, can you please let us in?" she snapped. "It's really important that that we talk to Ross."

Judy frowned, but obligingly moved out of the way to let them in. "I'll call him down."

She left them standing awkwardly in the living room, Chandler tapping his fingers nervously on the mantelpiece (who had a fireplace in their living room anymore?) and Phoebe frowned at the china knick-knacks on said mantelpiece.

"Chandler!" Ross asked in shock. "Pheebs?" They whirled to see Ross standing in the doorway, mouth open in shock. He looked different, and it took Chandler a moment to realize that it was due to the total lack of gel in his hair.

Phoebe apparently noticed it too. "Hey, wow, what's with your hair!"

Ross didn't even glance at her. "Are you alright?" He asked Chandler, and he shrugged.

"Maybe," he replied, and Ross nodded understandingly. There was an awkward silence. Ross kept glancing in-between Phoebe and Chandler, obviously wondering if Chandler had told Phoebe what was going on.

"Well," Phoebe said brightly. "We'd better be heading back."

"Back?" Ross and Chandler asked in unison. Phoebe rolled her eyes.

"Yes. Back. You promised, Chandler," she added reproachfully. Chandler just grimaced. He wasn't sure he could handle this. Handle Ross' worried eyes burning into the back of his neck, or the pitying glances he was sure he would receive from everyone.

At the risk of sounding melodramatic (although it was a little late for that), nothing would ever be the same again.

Monica closed her eyes, leaning back into the couch. She was ashamed to feel tears well up when she noted the lack of Chandler's arm around her; a friendly gesture he had made often when he was over at their apartment. She felt silly, missing Chandler after it had only been eight days since they'd hung out, and five since she'd last spoken to him (yelled at him, actually), and she felt as though a piece of her was missing.

What made it worse was that Phoebe and Rachel weren't there either. Rachel was at her job, and Phoebe…Monica wasn't sure where Phoebe was. So Monica was all alone- jobless, friendless (it seemed like that, lately) and, well, although it sounded horribly cliché, joyless.

Monica wondered when she had started taking all her friends for granted. She could barely remember the time when she had first moved into her grandmother's apartment; Kip had been living across the hall and was looking for a roommate, and Ross had only stopped by occasionally. And now it felt like some weird alternate universe of her moving in with no Kip and therefore Chandler.

She sighed, abruptly getting up and exiting the apartment. Monica felt suddenly claustrophobic, and blamed it on watching Scream on Thursday without Chandler's wisecracks that usually made horror movies just funny enough so that she didn't get too frightened

What she didn't expect was to crash into someone directly at the top of the stairs. She staggered backwards a little from the force and felt her breath catch in her throat when she looked around to see who she had crashed into. Sprawled on the floor and staring up at her in shock was Chandler Bing.

Of course it had to be Monica that saw him lying on the floor, undoubtedly looking as though he had just been plowed over by a train instead of just bumping slightly into someone who weighed barely 100 pounds. (Of course, she was probably just getting a preview of what he would look like during chemotherapy, if his luck stayed on track.)

He felt like saying something poignant; something that would magically fix everything. Even one of his trademark quips would do in a pinch. Unfortunately, he wasn't feeling particularly witty. So all that came out was a surprisingly gravely, "Hey, Mon."

Chandler was alarmed to see tears fill her eyes. She wasn't supposed to be worried. She was supposed to be angry; or accepting; or maybe a little concerned; but not so upset. It occurred to him that he should probably get up off the filthy floor, but once he did, it would mean facing everyone. Ross was going down to the coffeehouse to get Joey and hopefully Rachel, and Monica was staring at him as though he had two heads.

Chandler sighed and hauled himself up painfully.

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