hiiiidiho! I'm proud of myself! This is my longest chapter yet, and one of my faves! Please read and review, it means the world to me! Oh, and there are some lyrics used in this chapter, they are from the song 'Taking Over Me' by Evanescence, one of my favourite songs of theirs. The problem is that song was made after this story is set, so please ignore that little fact! Thanks a bunch! i will update soon!

I dont own friends/characters/actors but i am in love with Matt Perrys missing finger tip! Yowza!


"Hey," Rachel greeted as Chandler entered the apartment later that night. She had left Chandler to his thoughts not long after singing to him. She closed the fridge door and walked over to him.

"Hey, where is everyone?" Chandler questioned, looking around the room.

"Well, Monica is at work, Pheebs and Joey are at Central Perk and Ross…well, I don't know where Ross is. He's kinda avoiding me." Chandler smiled at her words.

"Probably hiding his bruised cheek," he mused. Rachel grinned.

"Yeah, probably," she agreed. The smile faded as she studied his face closely. "You're going now aren't you? To see Sarah?"

"Yeah," Chandler answered in a soft voice. "I figured I should do it now, before it's too late. Or before I lost my nerve."

"Do you know what you're going to say to her?"

"No, but I'll think of something. I have to." Rachel nodded, then reached into her pocket. Chandler watched, puzzled as she pulled her closed fist out, a smile spreading across her face.

"Here, take this." She pried Chandler's hand open and placed a small object in it, pressing his hand closed before he could peek.

"What is it?" he questioned. Rachel smiled faintly.

"Well, it's sort of a family heirloom," she answered softly.

"Oh, Rach, I can't -" Chandler began, only to be cut off.

"Yes you can! You can because I want you to have it!" Rachel insisted. "It's kind of like a good luck charm for me, and I think you need a bit of good luck at the moment."

"Thankyou," Chandler whispered after a beat, smiling shyly. Rachel smiled back, squeezing his hand one last time before removing her own. Chandler stared at her for a moment longer, and then slowly opened his hand.

"It's a ring," he commented, telling Rachel the obvious.

"Yeah, I'm aware of that," she said dryly. "I figured you could wear it…you don't like it."

"No, I love it." He really did. It was a simple gold band, no fancy jewels to be seen. There was a beautiful engraving covering it; what looked like a foreign language. Chandler didn't recognise it, but he just knew it meant something wonderful. He really did love it. "It's just…"

"Just?" Rachel prompted gently.

"Your hands are a bit smaller then mine. I'm not sure if it will fit me," Chandler said sadly. Rachel frowned, taking the ring from him.

"Hmm, hold out your hand." Chandler did as she asked and Rachel soon was attempting to slide the ring onto his finger, with little success.

"Damnit!" she cried in frustration. "Oh, I know!" Chandler watched as she quickly walked into her room, leaving him standing alone.

"'You know', what?" he called after her. Rachel reappeared, sliding the ring onto a gold chain.

"You can wear it around your neck!" she exclaimed. "And you can hide it underneath your shirt, so you can savour a bit of your alleged masculinity." Chandler smirked at this. No matter what was going on, Rachel could always make him smile.

"Okay," he agreed. Rachel smiled widely.

"Okay then." She stepped closer and wrapped her hands behind his neck.

"W-What ya doing?" Chandler asked nervously, secretly savouring the scent of her hair; a mixture of coconut and vanilla.

"I'm doing up the clasp of the necklace," Rachel answered wryly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Chandler laughed uneasily.

"Oh."

"There we go." Rachel leaned back slightly, her eyes glancing quickly at the necklace before gazing into Chandler's baby blues. "Looks great," she murmured, her arms still tightly wrapped around his neck. Chandler swallowed harshly.

"We can't do this Rach," he whispered, their lips dangerously close.

"Why not?" Rachel asked, lightly brushing her lips against his cheek. Chandler took in a shuddering breath. "We both want to, so why not?"

"You know why," he answered gently. Rachel frowned and took a step back.

"Why? Because you're going to die?" Her words were harsher then she had meant, and Chandler had flinched, but Rachel continued anyway. "I'm going to die too Chandler. I could be hit by a car tomorrow, or shot by a thief. I could drop dead from an aneurysm at any second!"

"That's different though," Chandler countered.

"How is that different? Just because we know you are dying, doesn't mean that you are going to be the first one to go. You could have another thirty years! We all reach our deadline one day Chandler. But really, is it important how or when we die? There's no sense sitting around and waiting for something that could be years off. We might as well do something to pass the time. Why worry about something that is inevitable?" Rachel wasn't sure about the last sentence – god knows she worried about Chandler's death – but the rest she believed in. Chandler sighed.

"I know that, it's just, it's complicated," he murmured. Rachel nodded.

"I know," she whispered, smiling sadly. "But trust me, I'm not going anywhere." There was a short silence as the two stood there, simply gazing at one another.

"Thankyou for the ring," Chandler said finally.

"Thankyou for wearing it," Rachel countered. "Be safe Chandler." She stretched up and kissed Chandler gently but firmly, albeit too quickly for the both of them. Rachel wanted nothing more then for Chandler to stay; for him to hold her and kiss her all night. But Chandler was determined to save this girl. "I-" Rachel stopped abruptly, biting back the three words she wanted to say so much. "Be safe."

Chandler sighed, pulling her into his arms. She held him close, her head pressed against his chest; his heart beating in her ear. Chandler rested his chin on her head for a moment, and then pressed his lips into her hair. "Don't wait up." He pulled back slightly, then leaned down and captured her lips once more. The kiss once again ended too quickly for the both of them. Rachel closed her eyes, and when she opened them again he was gone, the door shutting quietly behind him. She stared at the closed door for a while, then walked over and opened the fridge once more.

Don't wait up

Rachel smirked. "Yeah, right." She pulled out a tub of ice cream and went to sit down on the couch with it, prepared for a long night of waiting.

Chandler pulled his jacket tightly around him, his breath coming out in little puffs of condensation. It was unusually cold, even for late October, he thought as he made his way down the sidewalk. It probably would have been smarter to take a cab, but Chandler had decided to walk. He had looked up Spooner Street and had discovered it was only 15 blocks away. Normally Chandler didn't like walking too much, but he had spent so much time indoors recently that he had ended up longing for some fresh air. This walk was just what he needed. He only hoped that his friends wouldn't find out he had walked. They would probably scold him for walking in the cold. He could just imagine what Rachel would say: 'you already have a brain tumour, and precognition, now you want to add pneumonia to that list?' Chandler smirked, rubbing his hands together. She worried too much; they all did. Sometime's he felt like a child or a puppy when they were around. He loved that they cared for him, he really did but they could be overprotective at times; especially Rachel.

Chandler smiled at the thought of Rachel. For a while, he hadn't been aware of his feelings towards her. When he had figured them out, he hadn't been sure of her feelings. He had suspected she cared for him more than she knew; listening to her sobbing over him the day they had watched Philadelphia had made him wonder if she was interested in him. Her holding his hand while he explained that he thought he was crazy had made Chandler suspect. There had been many other times that he had almost been sure. But for him, it had become obvious earlier that day

Who would you give up forever to touch?

I think you know, Rach

I think I do too

Chandler had pretty much confessed his affection to her, and she had held him closer, her hand in his. It reminded Chandler of song lyric's he had once heard.

'You saw me mourning my love for you and touched my hand. I knew you loved me then'

That conversation, and Rachel singing to him, had made Chandler sure of her feelings. He smiled gently, recalling their two kisses earlier. He had wanted to do that for a long time, he realised. Even before he had been aware of how he felt. It had finally happened and Chandler felt like he was walking on water. He hadn't thought he would be able to feel like that again, given the recent events. But he did.

Chandler's smile grew wider at that thought. It dropped suddenly as he looked up at the street sign. Spooner Street. Damn. He wasn't ready for this.

"Okay," he murmured to himself. "124 Spooner Street." He started up the street, reluctantly pushing all thoughts of Rachel out of his head. He had a job to do.


Chandler stared up at the house in front of him. He had only seen it in his dream once, but the image was burnt into his mind.

D-Don't hurt me

He took a deep breath, pushing Sarah's terrified plea out of his mind as he walked up to the door. He knocked once, twice, and waited impatiently for the door to be opened. He still had no idea what he was going to say, but Chandler was used to that. He was good at improvising.

Chandler knocked again, and glanced through the window. The lights were off, and there was no movement within the house.

"Damnit," he muttered to himself. Maybe he would just leave a note. "She won't believe it if it's written," he rebuked. "Hell, she probably won't believe it if it comes from my mouth." Chandler laughed lightly, realising that he was talking to himself. He knocked once more -just to be certain – then sighed and turned to leave. He would return first thing in the morning, he thought as he checked his watch. 8:16pm.

A sudden horrific thought entered his mind, and he whirled around to face the alleyway.

"No…" he murmured. "That wouldn't be fair." Chandler shook his head and turned to go. Suddenly he noticed something on the ground. He frowned, peering at the dark puddle. Blood.

"Oh god," Chandler moaned in horror.

A scraping sound caused Chandler's stomach to drop. He turned back towards the alleyway, hearing the distinctive sound of someone climbing over a fence.

Before Chandler knew what was happening, his feet were dragging him towards the alley. He didn't want to go in there – he suddenly knew what he would find – but he found he had no choice. His body was in control now, his mind just a distant observer.

Chandler entered the alleyway, certain of what he was going to find. His hand unconsciously flew to his mouth, a low moan escaping his lips. He had been certain, but it still hadn't prepared him.

Sarah was lying in a pool of her own blood, her eyes blankly staring towards the sky. Chandler slowly walked towards her, swallowing harshly to stop his rolling stomach. He kneeled down next to her body, staring with disbelieving eyes. He had only seen her stabbed once in the dream, and that was in her back, which he couldn't see. But, while studying her broken body, he could see at least six more stab wounds. It was like a bloodbath. Chandler reached over – unaware that he was covering himself in her blood - and gently picked up her hand with his gloved one. It was mangled, just as he remembered, only worse. His lip trembled as he carefully turned it over. Three nails missing, the thumb and middle finger's still attached, but only just. A tear rolled down Chandler's cheek as he lay her hand down on her chest and moved his attention to her face. Her porcelain face was calm, as though Sarah had resigned herself to her fate before she died. Her skin was fair, which made her deep blue eyes stand out all the more. They reminded him of Monica's eyes; the exact same colour. Actually, now that he thought about it, Sarah reminded him a lot of Monica. The same eyes, same delicate bone structure, same ruby lipped mouth; all surrounded by a head of beautiful raven hair. Chandler gasped, picturing Monica there instead; her body bleeding and broken. He blinked and it changed back to Sarah.

She wasn't supposed to die. He was meant to save her.

He rolled back on his heels, pulling his gloved hands away. He had failed once again.

No, he thought angrily. How could he have saved her? He had only had the dream the night before.

"This isn't fair!" Chandler screamed suddenly. "I wasn't given enough time! How could I save her! There wasn't enough time!"

Chandler stared at the sky, his lower lip trembling. He felt like he was once more climbing the walls. Sitting there, screaming at the sky like some clichéd movie, a battered body next to him. It wasn't one of his saner moments, he thought, a hysterical giggle escaping his lips. He knew it wasn't a time to be laughing, but he thought 'what the hell'? What wasn't there to laugh about? He was sitting next to a woman he was meant to save, but couldn't because the world had decided to screw him over once more. Chandler Bing, God's little fucked up practical joke.

Chandler giggled once again at the sheer absurdity of that thought, and his laughter slowly turned into sobs. It didn't matter that he hadn't been given enough time. He had still failed. He should have come sooner, should have come straight away, should have –

Police sirens started up in the distance, growing louder as the seconds passed by. Chandler glanced around frantically, before once again resting on Sarah Peterson's body. The sirens were headed this way. He had no idea how the cop's knew, but they were heading this way.

"Shit." He had to get out of here; Chandler had never been more certain of anything then he was of that fact. It didn't look good, him kneeling over a dead body in the middle of New York, the victims' blood staining his clothes. What would he tell them? That he had dreamed of her death and come just minutes too late? As if they would really believe he had been trying to help her.

"Fuck." Chandler glanced at Sarah one last time before fleeing; leaving her broken body to be discovered by the Feds.


Chandler ran ten straight blocks before stopping. He bent over -hand on knees -gasping for breath. Thankfully the street was mostly empty, so he didn't get too many odd looks. After a couple of minutes of heavy breathing, Chandler straightened and went to rub his face. He stopped, suddenly noticing his blood stained gloves. He mechanically removed the gloves and tossed them in a nearby trash can. He then glanced down at his clothes, taking in the soaked material. Chandler rubbed at his clothes, then lifted his hands in front of his face.

"Oh god," he whispered. Before he knew what was happening, Chandler was on his hands and knees, retching painfully. He expelled the little he had eaten that day, and continued to heave after emptying his stomach. Finally he leaned back, tears streaming freely down his face.

"Oh god," he repeated. A lone tap caught his eye and he hauled his trembling body over to the faucet. He turned it on and methodically started rubbing his hands underneath it, tears still streaming. He rubbed and rubbed until his hands were clean, and continued to rub long after. Finally he pulled his hands back and stared down at them. They were raw and bleeding slightly, reminding Chandler once more of Sarah. He took in a shuddering breath and turned the tap off, then leaned back, still staring at his hands. Some of Sarah's blood was still caked underneath his nails, but Chandler didn't do anything to get rid of it. Instead he sat there, staring at the ominous clouds, crying silently. After a while, it started to rain; the raindrops thick and heavy. Chandler continued to sit there, still staring at the sky. The freezing rain felt good against his hot face. Finally he stood and started to walk home in the pouring rain; tears still streaming down his face.


A sudden dip in the bed woke Rachel abruptly. She had tried to wait for Chandler, but exhaustion had claimed her. She had climbed into bed at 1: 27am – over six hours since Chandler had left - promising herself that she would check in on him first thing in the morning. He had, after all, told her not to wait up.

Rachel opened her eyes, glancing at the clock. 2:13am. A trembling hand slid into hers, grasping her fingers gently. She rolled over and found tearful blue eyes staring at her.

"Please?" Chandler whispered, his hair dripping with water. Rachel sat up slowly, taking in his appearance. He was soaking wet, his clothes stained with blood and his body was shaking unmercifully. A tiny sob escaped his lips every few seconds.

"What happened?" she asked worriedly. Chandler shook his head, another sob leaving his lips. Rachel pulled him into her arms, kissing his wet hair softly. Chandler clung to her limply, his body still shaking. After a few minutes Rachel pulled away and walked over to her closet. Chandler watched wordlessly as she pulled out an oversized shirt she sometimes slept in. It had originally belonged to Chandler – and had been too big for him - but she had borrowed it one night and had become attached to it, so he had given it to her. Rachel placed the jersey on the bed, and then gently pulled Chandler to his feet. She grasped the bottom of his shirt and slowly pulled it over his head, and then reached for his belt buckle.

"I never thought I would be undressing you for the first time in this situation," she joked, unbuckling his belt. Chandler let out a short laugh, watching as she dropped the belt on the floor. Rachel smiled tightly as she slowly unzipped his pants and pulled them down, ending up on her knees. His shoes and socks were missing, but Rachel didn't bother asking about their whereabouts. He had most likely taken them off by the front door, aware of Monica's obsession with cleanliness.

"Step," she commanded. Chandler did as he was instructed and his pants joined his shirt and belt in a wet pile on the floor. He shivered, clad only in his boxers - and the ring around his neck - now. Rachel stood up and grabbed the oversized jersey, then carefully pulled it over his head. It came down to around mid thigh on him, she noticed as she took his hand and led him over to the bed, pulling back the covers. She got in first, Chandler following close behind. Rachel held him close, trying to warm his ice-cold body. He still trembled, but less then he had before.

Chandler's hand wrapped around the material of her top. It had become an unconscious habit of his since the dreams began. Rachel kissed his brow and he closed his eyes with a shuddering sigh. She watched as he slowly drifted off to sleep, then continued to watch him slumber. Finally, at around 3am, she closed her eyes.

Whatever happened that night could wait till the morning to be explained.

Chandler sighed softly in his sleep, causing Rachel to smile.

He needed his sleep.