Jeez! This chapter took a bit longer then i thought it would, and turns out...it wasnt even the chapter i was going to write! I was going to do something completely different..but that has been pushed back to the next chapter haha.

oh and lupinsmoon...shhh! You caught me out! Chapter 12 was very rushed, but you werent meant to notice! I was trying to finish it quickly, so i could post it hehe shh! Thank you for your reviews though, and it seems i have some competition on the Matt front? Interesting! Please keep reading, and thank ya'all for the reviews! I promise to update very soon! Love you all, but not as much as i love Matt and Chandler! SQUEE! Please read and review!

I dont own friends/characters/actors, but i am ready and willing to mud wrestle with lupinsmoon over who gets to keep Matt Perry...bring it on!...please keep reading.


Rachel's eyes flew open.

Shit.

The noise grew louder, painfully invading her eardrums.

"Chandler?" she yelled, grabbing his flailing arms and trying to hold him down.

"No!" Chandler screamed, breaking the hold. Rachel instinctively shrunk back, trying to avoid his arms. "No! Please!"

"Chandler, wake up!" Rachel pleaded, grabbing him once more. She gave him a hard shake, then jumped as the door flew open. Rachel found herself unconsciously pulling up the sheets, covering her naked body as Joey came in; flicking the light on.

"Chandler!" Joey yelled, grabbing his best friend. "Damnit Chandler! Wake up!"

"No!" An inhuman groan – almost a gurgle – left Chandler's lips and he arched his back, his face screwing up in pain. Rachel moved forward, the sheet dropping; forgotten. She didn't care if Joey saw her naked. There were more important things to deal with at that moment. Besides, Joey wasn't even looking at her.

"Chandler," she whimpered, shaking him once more. "Chandler, wake up baby, wake up!"

Chandler's body dropped back to the bed and his eyes snapped open. He stared up at the ceiling, unblinking and unmoving, except for his panicked breathing. Rachel moved into his line of sight, stroking his face tenderly.

"Sarah?" she asked, her voice hopeful. She was desperate for the dream to have been about Sarah; she didn't think that Chandler could cope with a new dream; a new murder. Thankfully, Chandler nodded, still staring blankly up at her as he gasped for breath. Rachel sighed, glancing up at Joey. He looked back at her, his face tight with worry. Rachel smiled grimly then looked back down at Chandler, pulling the sheets back up around her. Chandler's nose was bleeding, she noticed. Of course it was bleeding, she berated herself. When was the last time it hadn't bled after a dream? Rachel glanced over at her pants, lying in a heap on the floor. She had a tissue in the pocket, but she wasn't sure if she wanted to go over and get it. Not in front of Joey. She debated the issue for a moment, and finally decided to go and get it. Who cares if Joey saw her naked? He had seen half the female population naked. Plus, he had most likely taken a subconscious look before, when she had let the sheet drop. Rachel started to get up, to go and get her pants, but it turned out she didn't have to.

"Here," Joey murmured, pulling a tissue from the drawer next to the bed. He pressed it up against Chandler's nose, and Rachel breathed a sigh of relief, then frowned. Why the hell was she feeling relief? Sure, she hadn't had to get out of bed, but Chandler was still in pain. She glanced at her lover, watching as his breathing – his gasping – started to slow slightly.

"You okay sweetie?" she whispered. Chandler bit his lip, turning to face her. Rachel smiled sweetly at him, hoping that he took comfort from it.

"It was worse this time," he said, his voice so soft that Joey and Rachel had to lean closer to hear. "She was in so much pain…I felt her die! She died!" Chandler looked away from Rachel, tears springing to his eyes. "Damnit," he muttered. "I am not Gwyneth Paltrow."

Joey shot a questioning look at Rachel, who merely shrugged. She would explain Chandler's comment to him later.

"I'm not going to cry. I cant, I won't," Chandler whispered, wiping at his eyes.

"Its okay honey," Rachel said soothingly. "You have a reason to cry; Gwyneth didn't." Chandler let out a short, hollow laugh, looking at Rachel once more. She smiled again, running her hand down his cheek and wiping away the tears.

"She won the Oscar," Chandler reminded her.

"Yeah, but she didn't have crazy dreams," Rachel countered. "Or a brain tumour." Chandler nodded.

"Or try to kill herself," he murmured. Rachel glanced once more at Joey, a pained look on her face.

"No…she didn't try to do that," Joey said softly, pulling both his hand and the soiled tissue away. Chandler took a deep breath, sitting up slightly. He glanced down at the covers, then up at Rachel, remembering their state of undress.

"Uhh…Joe," he began. Joey smiled gently, shaking his head.

"Hey, you guys don't need to explain anything to me," he cut in. Chandler smiled back, although it was shaky at best. "I'm just glad you finally got on with it…although you do have to buy me new sheets." Chandler's small smile turned into a laugh, mixing with Rachel's.

"Thanks man," he said quietly.

"Don't mention it," Joey said smiling, then turned serious. "Are you going to be okay man?" Chandler sighed, glancing down at his hands. He looked at his wrist, and then quickly looked away.

"I-I….its just hard, you know?" he whispered. "You don't know. God, I don't even know." A giggle left his lips, and he shook his head. "Everything is just so fucked up, you know?"

"Yeah, we know," Joey murmured. "Well…we don't know, but we know it's hard."

"Yeah," Chandler said softly. "In a way, I'm glad I had another dream."

"Why do you say that?" Rachel asked gently. Chandler giggled again.

"I was going crazy…well, you know…it was worrying me that I hadn't had one for a while. I wasn't sure if they had stopped, or if…if the people…whoever they are, if they were waiting to spring a big one on me. You know, a horrible one of someone being tortured or something…or one of you guys. So, in a way, I'm sort of glad. That sounds weird, doesn't it?"

"No baby, it doesn't sound weird," Rachel soothed, taking his right hand in her own.

"Okay…I hate this situation…I don't want to dream anymore, but I know that if I don't, I'll always be wondering." Chandler rubbed his face with his free hand, giving his wrist an odd look.

"Do you think you can go back to sleep?" Joey asked after a moment. Chandler sighed.

"I-I don't know," he answered, looking up at Joey. "Maybe with some help. Would you be able to go get me…uh, one of my pills?"

"Sure," Joey said, patting his best friends arm. "I'll be right back."

Rachel watched him leave the room, then turned back to Chandler. He pulled her close, wrapping his arm around her shoulder.

"For once in my life, I don't know what to say," he said softly. Rachel smiled, rubbing his bare chest with her hand.

"That's okay, you don't always have to say something," she told him. Chandler nodded, closing his eyes. Rachel watched as they flew back open, wide with panic. She bit her lip to keep from crying. He couldn't even close his eyes without seeing Sarah. Or Nicole. Or her…lying dead in the bathtub.

"It's okay, sweetie," she whispered. Chandler nodded again, but didn't close his eyes.

"I don't know what I would do without you," he said after a beat. Rachel nodded, kissing his shoulder.

"I know baby, I know."

They lay in silence until Joey returned, pills in one hand, glass of water in the other. He helped Chandler sit up, then handed him the contents of his hands. Chandler swallowed the pills, drank the water, then set the empty glass on the counter.

"Thanks Joey," he said softly. Joey smiled.

"Don't mention it…are you going to be okay now?"

"Yeah, I got Rachel, you can go back to bed now," Chandler told him. Rachel watched as Joey nodded, noticing the flash of pain in his eyes at the mention of her name. She understood. Joey was used to being the one that comforted Chandler; the one that looked after him. Now, he wasn't needed as much as he used to be, and it hurt.

"Night," Joey murmured, patting Chandler's shoulder one last time, before turning and leaving.

"Goodnight Joey," Rachel called after him, hoping to sound as sincere as possible. She didn't want him to feel left out. Joey smiled at her, then turned off the light and closed the door. Rachel sighed, turning back to Chandler. She watched him through the darkness, saw him begin to calm down. Those pills worked fast, she thought.

"Feeling better?" she asked softly. Chandler nodded, rolling over to face her.

"Yeah," he remarked sleepily, wrapping his hand around her bare waist. Rachel smiled, moving in closer and kissing his jaw line gently. "Those pills work quickly."

"That's what I was thinking," she whispered, rubbing his arm. Chandler smiled.

"You did good before," he drawled, his voice thick with sleep. Rachel grinned.

"Just good? I've been told that I'm fantastic in bed," she informed him. He giggled.

"Well…yeah, that's true…you did better then good, you did…amazing," Chandler's voice drifted off, his eyes closing. Rachel smiled, kissing him gently.

"You were pretty damn good yourself," she muttered.

"Thanks," Chandler murmured. Rachel kissed him once more, then wrapped her arm around his body, cuddling him closely.

"Night Chandler," she whispered. He didn't answer, already asleep. "I love you." Rachel didn't have the courage to say the words while he was awake. She sighed, watching him sleep. She hoped the pills did their trick.

He needed a good night's sleep.

"So, how was it?" Rachel shook her head, lost in her own thoughts.

"Huh?" she muttered. Monica smiled patiently.

"How was it?" she repeated, her voice low.

"How was what?" Rachel asked, unsure as to what her best friend was asking her.

"Joey said you and Chandler…you know!" Monica said, grinning. Rachel stared at her friend, open mouthed.

"Monica! I am not going to share the details with you!" she hissed.

"Why not? You do when it comes to every other guy!"

"I didn't when it came to Ross!" Rachel said defensively.

"Yes…thank god! But, come on…please?" Monica pouted, and Rachel rolled her eyes.

"Mon," she groaned.

"Come on, what makes Chandler so different to any other guy you've been with?" Monica asked, stubbornly not backing down.

"Because it's Chandler!"

"I would tell you if I was in your situation," Monica insisted.

"No you wouldn't!"

"Yes, I would! Now come on!" Rachel sighed. Monica was not going to back down. She was determined.

"It was…it was different," she murmured. Monica frowned.

"Bad different?" she whispered.

"No! No, definitely not! It was good different! Very, very good different!" Rachel exclaimed, and then lowered her voice. "It was…I don't know…it just felt right, you know?" Monica nodded, a sad smile spreading across her face.

"I can imagine…that was what it was like with Richard," she said softly. Rachel smiled and patted her friend's arm. "Like you just clicked."

"Exactly…and so emotional! But with everything that has been going on, it would have to be, wouldn't it? I just needed to have him as close as possible…for some reason it made me sure that he wasn't going anywhere," Rachel whispered. Monica frowned, a sudden thought entering her mind.

"Are you sure it was the right time? I mean, like you said, with everything happening. Maybe it wasn't the right time?"

"Maybe," Rachel mused, glancing across the room. Chandler was sitting at the kitchen table, Joey next to him. She smiled. "I don't know, maybe it was comfort sex…but it wasn't sex…it was making love…Jesus, I'm just babbling on here!" Rachel glanced back at Monica, an apologetic look on her face. She hoped that her friend didn't mind her talking about this. She felt awful about Monica's feelings towards Chandler, and wished that Monica had been able to choose someone who would reciprocate her feelings. Here she was, talking about sleeping with Chandler, right in front of the girl who couldn't have him because her best friend had been there. Rachel felt horrible, but she remembered that Monica was the one who had brought it up. Obviously she was trying to get over her feelings.

Rachel sighed, glancing back over at Chandler.

"It was the best I've ever had," she murmured. "It's different when you really love them….not that I didn't love Ross but…this is different."

"Yeah," Monica said softly. Rachel smiled faintly, watching as Chandler ate. She frowned as he paused, glancing down at his cutlery.

He could still do it, Chandler thought as he looked at the silverware in his hands. Monica had given him the bluntest knife possible, but he could still do it. Dr Mackenzie had been right once more.

He wanted to help his friends; help them more then anything. But a small part of him was also desperate to make the dreams stop. That small part wanted him to do it. To end it all.

He could still do it. Maybe not with this knife. There were others though. Sharper, longer, better. He was sure he would be able to find one. Of course he couldn't do it here. His friends would stop him.

Why was he even considering this? He couldn't leave his friends. Couldn't leave Joey. And most definitely couldn't leave Rachel. Couldn't, wouldn't, mustn't. Especially not after last night; not after the night they had just shared.

Perhaps they would be better off without him though, the small part –the part that wanted him to do it – reasoned, a little voice in the back of his mind.

They still could be in danger. They still could die because he was around them. Dr. Mackenzie could be wrong. He could be hurting them, rather then saving them. That had been your original thought.

What right did a doctor, a psychiatrist, a fucking shrink have? What right did he have to tell you that you were wrong? You know best, Chandler.

You may still be killing them by staying around.

No, Chandler thought firmly. The voice in his head was wrong. He couldn't leave his friends. Dr. Mackenzie was right. He is a trained professional. Doctor knows best, and definitely knows better then a crazy, dream having, wrist slashing, brain tumour patient.

You know that's not true, the voice countered.

Shut up, Chandler growled.

No, listen to me. You said it yourself. Dr. Mackenzie studied for a few years, got a degree, and now he thinks he knows everything. He doesn't know a damn thing about you Chandler. Not a thing. Only you know.

No, Chandler thought, but wasn't sure if he believed himself.

Yes. You decided to kill yourself for a reason. You had a goal. Don't let some stubborn shrink stop you. Your friends need you to do this. They need you to die Chandler. You can still do it!

Chandler glanced from the knife to his covered wrist, his hand trembling. He could still do it. The voice could still be right. He had a goal. It had been interrupted, but he could still do it.

Could he still do it?

Chandler glanced once more at the knife, biting his lip in concentration. To save his friends he would, but he didn't know what to believe.

Dr. Mackenzie said that killing himself wouldn't help them. His friend's had said that as well. But didn't he know best? Didn't he know best what was going around in his own head?

At the moment, Chandler wasn't sure. His head was a mess; he was arguing with his subconsciousness, talking to a voice in his head. That voice was telling him things; things he didn't want to hear.

Chandler didn't want to die. But he wasn't sure if he had to or not. To save his friends he would, but what if they wouldn't be saved by him dying? Or what if they could only be saved by him dying? He had no idea. No fucking clue.

Chandler took another look at his wrist.

He could still do it.

But did he want to?

Did he have to?

A hand covered his, and Chandler watched as the knife was taken away from him. He glanced up at find Joey staring at him. He had known, Chandler realised. Joey had known what had been going through his head.

"Are you finished?" Joey asked, his voice strained. Chandler wasn't sure if he meant his breakfast or his troubling thoughts. He could see the pain in Joey's eyes. Joey didn't want him to die. He couldn't leave him. Couldn't leave any of his friends. Not after seeing the look in his best friends' eyes. Or after his promise to Rachel the night before. He couldn't leave him. He just had to ignore the voice in his head.

Dr. Mackenzie was right. He was helping his friends by staying alive. Chandler had to force himself to believe that. He couldn't die. Couldn't, wouldn't, mustn-

"Yeah…I'm done," he whispered, pulling his hand away. It was still too close to the knife. The knife that was still tempting him. It was too close, way too close. He had to get away from it, it was too temping. He had to keep it away, had to-

You can still do it

Dr. Mackenzie is wrong

"Just…please, keep that thing away from me," Chandler choked out, desperately trying to ignore the voice. Joey nodded, a troubled look on his face.

"Okay buddy," he murmured, patting Chandler on the shoulder.

Chandler watched Joey take away their plates; take away the knife. He ran a shaky hand down his face-

You can still do it

then glanced over at the girls. He couldn't think like that. Had to ignore the voice, had to stay positive. Today was going to be a good day. And tomorrow. And the next day. But especially today. Little steps, he reminded himself. One day at a time.

Today was going to be a good day.

It had to be.


You can still do it Chandler

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" Chandler said in a conversational tone, his voice rising with each syllable. He hadn't been able to shut the voice up all day, which had made it difficult in him having a good day. This was the first time he had vocally told the voice to stop. It was the first time that day that he had been alone. He sighed, flushing the toilet. Something told him that the voice wasn't anything good. In fact, it most likely meant something was seriously wrong with him.

You already knew that Sparky

Chandler rolled his eyes. Sparky. Now his voice was giving him a pet name? He really had lost his mind.

You think that just because you are talking to yourself that you have lost your mind? Don't make me laugh!

Everybody talks to themselves. What makes you fucking special?

"You know, you have a real attitude problem," Chandler muttered, sitting down on the edge of the bath. He jumped up quickly, glaring at the bath. Rachel wasn't dead. The bath had told him otherwise.

I have an attitude problem? You're the one snapping at your conscious

"Jesus Christ," Chandler groaned, closing the toilet lid and sitting down. He stared at the bath-

Empty bath, empty. Nothing in there

shaking his head. He hated this voice. Hated that he couldn't get rid of it. He had only had it around for less then a day, and it was already pissing him off. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to have it around forever.

That's why you should just kill yourself. Get it over and done with. You can make me stop. Make the dreams stop. Make the pain stop. You can do all that, Sparky

"Don't call me that!" Chandler shrieked, leaping to his feet. He glanced around wildly, stopping and staring into the mirror. He looked like hell. Rings around his eyes, skin pasty, hair greasy. And when had he lost so much weight?

Hit a nerve, did I? What, did you're dad used to call you that? Can't handle the memory of it?

"Stop it," Chandler whispered, his anger growing. He dimly felt his hand wrap around something.

You can make it all stop, you know.

You know how.

Just pick up a razor…if the girls have left any out. They think you are weak; that you can't control yourself. That's why the razors are gone. They think you're weak. Which you are. You can't even kill yourself to save your friends. Fucking pathetic.

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" Chandler screamed, lifting his hand up. He stopped himself, and stared at his hand. He had nearly thrown a bottle of mouthwash against the wall. How would that have helped? Besides giving him a way to let his anger out. Chandler took a deep breath, and gently placed the mouthwash on the counter. He wasn't going to let this voice get the better of him; let it consume him. He wasn't going to let it control him.

Can't even throw a bottle of mouthwash? Jesus Christ

"I thought I told you to shut up?" Chandler whispered, his voice weak.

You can't get rid of me Chandler. Unless…

"Unless what?"

You know what

"Tell me anyway."

Unless you kill yourself

"Stop it," Chandler whimpered, leaning against the counter. Tears burned in his eyes. He wasn't going to cry. He couldn't, wouldn-

Let it out Chandler. Rachel is always telling you to do that. Why don't you listen to her? She's a smart girl, y'know. And got a fine figure on her too! Pity you are killing her

"Leave Rach out of this."

I will if you will. You're the one who brought her up

"No I-"

Yes you did. Think about it Chandler. I'm you. I'm not somebody else, I'm you. Everything I'm saying is what you believe, deep down. You want to die. You have to die. If you don't, she will die. So will Joey. And Monica. And Ross. And Phoe-

"I get the point!" Chandler yelled, banging his fist against the counter. "Jesus Christ!"

If you get the point, then why don't you kill yourself?

"Because you're wrong!" Chandler shrieked. "You're wrong! You are wrong! They are not going to die! I have to believe it! I have to!"

"Chandler?" Rachel's soft voice was accompanied by a knock on the closed door. "Chandler? Sweetie? Are you okay? I thought I heard you yelling."

"Yeah, I'm fine Rachel," Chandler said after a moment. He glanced at his reflection briefly, then turned away. He could almost see the voice, the bastard inside his head. He could almost see that bastard through his eyes.

"You sure? I'm coming in."

"No! I'm coming out!" Chandler insisted.

"O-Okay."

Chandler sighed, wiping at his cheeks. He hadn't even realised he was crying until that moment. He had felt the tears burning in his eyes, sure, but hadn't realised they had spilled over. He sighed once more, then opened the door.

"You sure you're okay? Who were you talking to?" Rachel asked worriedly as he walked out. Chandler smiled weakly.

"Myself," he said honestly. No point lying about it. Rachel knew he was crazy. She knew.

"You were yelling at yourself?" Rachel said softly. Chandler nodded.

"That surprises you?" he whispered. Rachel hesitated. "Me - crazy wrist slasher - talking to myself. You think that's surprising?"

"I-I don't know," Rachel murmured. Chandler smiled grimly.

"We have a lot to talk about; a lot to argue about," he muttered. "Somebody thinks that I should ignore you all, but Sparky doesn't agree." Rachel stared at Chandler, her eyes wide and tear-filled. Chandler smiled again. "Don't worry baby, Sparky's stronger then that bastard thinks." He kissed her quickly, then walked away, leaving Rachel standing by the bathroom door.

I'm not wrong

Chandler rolled his eyes. He had hoped the voice had left.

I'm right. You know that. I know that. We both know that. Why can't you just face the facts? They are going to die if you stay around. You want to protect them? Listen to me. Listen to yourself, godamnit! You have to die.

"Fuck you," Chandler whispered, just as he approached the couch.

Fuck me? Fuck you. You know I'm right. You're going to see that soon. You are weak Chandler. You'll do it. I'm sure of it. You have to.

To save them.

Chandler sat down next to Monica, smiling weakly at her. She grinned back, patting him on the knee.

She's going to die.

"Shut up," Chandler said through clenched teeth.

"What?" Monica asked, a frown covering her face.

"Nothing," Chandler said, smiling once more. Monica stared at him for a second, then smiled.

"Okay."

She's going to die. They all are. You can still do it. There's still time. Time before-

Before what, Chandler asked the voice wearily. He didn't want to hear the answer, but he knew he had to. The voice was, after all, apparently him. These things that the voice was saying were him. He wanted to hear the answer. He had to. But once he did, he wished he hadn't. The words chilled him to his very core. There was still time. Time before-

Before the killing begins.