Wow, i think that this chapter was literally the hardest chapter i have ever written! Im not sure why, but it was very hard! So, ya'all better enjoy it hehe! Thankyou for all your reviews! I feel sad, but happy that the next chapter is my last! I dont want it to end ,but when it does i can write a new story...and i have like a million ideas, so that will be great! So please, read and review, and i promise the next chapter, my last chapter, will be up in the next 2 days! Please enjoy! Oh and any spelling mistakes...once again ignore, i aint perfect you know! Love ya all!

I do not own friends/ characters/ actors but i wouldnt mind Matthew Perry running up to save my life! Woohoo!


Chandler had never been known as being much of an athlete.

Growing up, he had participated in the occasional football game and had been adequate at it, but had never been good enough to play on a team. He had done a bit of swimming as a teenager, and had actually been quite good at it, but had given it up before he could excel too much. His reasons for stopping were partly due to lack of interest, but mostly due to his father's embarrassing habit of coming to watch him swim dressed as a different Hollywood starlet each time. That had turned him off participating in most sports, with the exception of tennis.

Chandler had started playing tennis not long after giving up swimming, and had proved to have a natural flair for the sport. But once more his lack of interest had been the cause of him stopping. Since then, he hadn't played any sport – with the exception of a short stint at the gym - preferring to watch instead of participate.

Chandler had never been known for his sporting prowess, which is why it came as no surprise to him that after several minutes of running, he was exhausted.

He wasn't a runner. He wasn't an athlete. He was the type of guy who should have been taking a cab somewhere, not sprinting towards his goal. But Chandler was in a rush, and a blind panic.

The woman he cared about more than anything was about to die, and Chandler was running out of time. He could have hailed a cab, but there was a chance that it would have taken longer to drive then to run. Traffic was heavy at this time of the night, and there was no doubt in Chandler's mind that he would have been stuck in the cab for quite a while, had he driven.

So Chandler ran.

He dodged people on the sidewalk, receiving many angry shouts and glares as he rudely brushed past them. But he didn't care who he pissed off. All he cared about was Rachel. She couldn't die. She couldn't, wouldn't, mustn't. It was unacceptable.

Nothing mattered. Nothing but Rachel. He had hit Monica; possibly hurt her badly. But that didn't matter. She would heal. She would forgive.

If Chandler's dream came true, Rachel would not heal. And there would be no chance of forgiveness. Chandler couldn't not allow that. She had to live. She had to survive. Even if he died saving her, Chandler didn't care. He had been planning to die anyway. Saving Rachel's life in the process made it that much more honourable. And at least he would die knowing that she would be alright. That she would live to mourn, love, and leave – when her time was up. She wasn't going to die.

Chandler couldn't remember ever running this much or this fast in his entire life. He couldn't remember the last time his heart had been beating this fast, or he had been this terrified. He was a mix of emotions. He was scared, exhausted, sad, angry, and a million other emotions that he could not name at will. He was a basket case. And he had a stitch in his side.

"Shit," Chandler gasped, clutching at his aching side as he ran. He couldn't breathe and the pain was growing worse by the second, but Chandler didn't care. He would gladly feel the pain, multiplied by a million, if it meant Rachel's life was saved.

Chandler glanced down at his watch, squinting at the numbers. It was dark, and his quick movement made reading difficult, but he eventually figured out the time.

"No, no, no, no," he moaned in despair. 9:26. He was nearly out of time. Chandler somehow quickened his pace, although it seemed impossible. How could he run faster, when he was already running as fast as he could? Chandler didn't know, but he somehow managed to do it. The pain in his side intensified ten fold, and Chandler thought for a moment that he would pass out. The moment passed and Chandler breathed through the pain. He couldn't pass out. Rachel needed him. He couldn't stop. He couldn't give up. She needed him. He had to be there. He had to stop the man with the sick smile. He had to.

He glanced up at the street sign, and gave out a sudden, triumphant cry. McLeay Street. He had made it. Rachel wasn't going to die, because he had made it. Chandler paused for a moment to regain his breath, hands on knees. No point trying to save Rachel when all he could do was pant.

He straightened up after a moment, and glanced around frantically.

"Shit!" he screeched, turning around wildly. There was no alleyway to be seen.

Chandler ran his hands through his hair, his glances becoming more and more frenetic. How could this be? Rachel had been here. She had been right next to the sign when he had attacked her…hadn't she?

Chandler couldn't remember. He was sure that she had been, but there was no evidence to back up his memory. Where was the alleyway? Where was Rachel? Had he ran straight past her? He ran his hands through his hair again, letting out another cry. He had failed. She was going to die. All because he had gotten his dream mixed around.

No.

She couldn't die. She was around here somewhere. She had to be. But she wasn't. There was no alleyway. There was a McLeay Street. There was the sign that Rachel had leaned against. But there was no sign of Rachel. The dream had been wrong. It had to have been wron-

"Wait!" Chandler shrieked suddenly, not caring if anyone heard him. There was no one around him anyway. "She walked! She walked!"

He spun around quickly and started back the way he had come. She had continued walking after pausing next to the sign. Chandler must have run straight past them.

"No," Chandler gasped as he ran. He hadn't seen her. She must have already been in the alleyway. He was running out of time. He may have already run out. She could have already been dead. He glanced at his watch once again. 9:35.

"Shit!"

Chandler once again quickened his pace, but payed attention to the alleyways he passed. She could be in any one of them. She could be crying, or bleeding, or dying. He had to find her. He had to.

Chandler barely noticed the two figures in the dark alleyway; one lying on the ground, the other looming above. They blended into the darkness well, and Chandler almost ran past, his mind not comprehending at first what he was seeing. He had become so used to seeing empty alleyways, that he hadn't expected this one to be occupied.

He almost ran past, but a sudden, floating voice stopped him in his tracks.

"-to rape you. I'm not that kind of guy."

"What kind of guy are you?"

Chandler froze at Rachel's question, hearing the fear, pain, and nervousness in her voice. Now that he was finally here; finally able to do something - finally able to save her – he panicked. It was up to him to save her. If he failed, she died. No ifs, ands, or buts.

Chandler froze at Rachel's question, but the movement from her attacker and his snide answer caused him to spring into action.

"I'm the fun kind."

"No!" Chandler screamed, lunging forward. He had no idea what he was going to do, but once again he didn't care. He would improvise. He was good at doing that.

Rachel's attacker jumped in surprise, and started to turn to see who was interrupting them. Before he could get a good glimpse, Chandler was on him; knocking him clear off of Rachel. They went rolling; Chandler stopping before they could slam into the wall. Rachel's attacker was not quite as lucky, and hit the wall with a grunt.

"Chandler!" Rachel gasped in amazement. Chandler heard her voice, but didn't turn towards it. Instead he grabbed her assailant -who had started to sit up- and slammed him once more into the wall.

"Bastard!" Chandler screamed at the man, tears streaming down his face. "You sick fuck! Why! Why would you do something like that!"

"I-I didn't do anything!" the man exclaimed, terror shining in his eyes. He was bigger then Chandler, and easily stronger, but Chandler had adrenaline on his side. The man could see the pure fury and hatred in Chandler's eyes, and knew that he would have no problem murdering somebody that night. He also knew that there was a good chance that the 'somebody' was going to be him.

"You were going to! Don't you touch her!" Chandler shrieked, his face flushed with anger, tears streaming down his cheeks. "You bastard! You deserve to die!" His right hand snaked around the man's neck, and he squeezed.

"Chandler," Rachel said softly, laying her hand on her lovers shoulder. She couldn't let him kill this man. As much as she hated the guy, she couldn't let him do it. And she knew he was going to if she didn't step in. "Chandler? Baby? It's okay. I'm okay."

"H-He was going to hurt you," Chandler whispered, not relinquishing his hold. The man was gasping for breath, his face quickly losing all its colour.

"I'm okay," Rachel repeated gently. "Chandler, sweetie. Please let go."

"I can't," Chandler whimpered. "You didn't see…you don't know what he was going to do."

"I know, but it didn't happen. Chandler, please let go," Rachel pleaded. "You can't kill him. It's not in your nature. You're a good man Chandler. If you do this, you will be just like him."

Chandler considered her words for a moment, staring at the man's pale face. He was still gasping for breath, but the pauses between gasps were becoming longer and longer. Chandler watched the man's eyelids flutter, and felt him start to go limp. He was dying. He was going to be dead soon, and Chandler was going to be the one who killed him. As much as he wanted the man to die, he knew he couldn't do it. Rachel was right. What Chandler had seen in the dream hadn't happened. Rachel was fine. And there was little chance that the man was going to hurt her now. As much as Chandler wanted him to die, he knew that everything Rachel had said was true. And he didn't want Rachel to witness him killing a man. He didn't want her to see that. That wasn't protecting her.

Chandler let go.

"It's okay sweetie, everything is okay," Rachel soothed as Chandler fell back, away from the gasping man. Every ounce of adrenaline had left him, and now Chandler simply felt tired. Tired and emotional. It had been so close. Too close. Not just Rachel's death, but the attackers' death. Chandler had nearly killed a man. That thought scared him almost as much as Rachel's death.

"Oh god," Chandler whispered, his body beginning to tremble as he sagged against Rachel. He watched the man - desperately drawing in gaping breaths – for a moment, then turned away. "Oh god."

"It's okay sweetie," Rachel repeated, wrapping her arms around his shaking body. She had gone from panicked to composed quickly. She knew that she had nearly died; that she would have if Chandler hadn't been there. He had seen something, something horrible. She knew that she had escaped death, but that didn't matter to her. All that mattered was Chandler, and the fact that he was hurting. Rachel pushed all her earlier fear; her panic, and her pain into the back of her mind. She ignored her attacker. He wasn't going anywhere for a while.

"I-I thought I was too late," Chandler whimpered, clutching on to her jacket for dear life. Rachel nodded. "I thought you were dead."

"But I'm not," she whispered. Chandler took in a shuddering breath, nodding weakly.

"I saw you die…I saw you die."

"It wasn't real."

"It nearly was. I saw him kill you. I saw him torture you! He…your face and…fingertips and…" Chandler trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. Rachel pulled him tighter, running her hand through his hair.

"It didn't happen," she murmured. Chandler nodded again. "I'm okay. I'm okay." She pulled away slightly and pressed her lips against his. Chandler kissed her back, clinging to her with desperation. He had almost lost her, he realised once more. He had almost lost her, without telling her how he really felt. That couldn't happen.

Chandler pulled away, staring into her eyes. Rachel smiled slightly, although it was strained. He had to tell her. He had to do it now; otherwise he might never have the chance. Chandler smiled back; also strained. He ran his hand through her hair, mindful of the wound at the back of her head; the wound caused by her head hitting the ground. He pushed that thought out of his mind, and opened his mouth to tell her.

Rachel watched Chandler smile at her, then leaned into his touch as his hand ran through her hair; matted with sweat and blood. She watched him open his mouth, and then her attention was diverted away from him. It focused instead on a movement behind Chandler, and Rachel gasped.

"No!" she screamed, grabbing Chandler. She threw him out of the way; pushed him just as the knife came down. Instead of piercing Chandler square in the back, it hit Rachel.

Chandler blinked, unsure of what had just happened. He had gone to tell Rachel he loved her, and she had screamed and thrown him out of the way. A quick thought entered his mind. Perhaps she had known what he was about to tell her, and hadn't wanted to hear it?

Chandler knew that thought was ludicrous, and he pushed it out of his head. Instead, he turned his focus to the scene in front of him. Rachel's attacker was looming over her, the knife in his hand dripping with blood. Chandler's heart dropped. He couldn't see Rachel properly – the man was blocking most of her – but he knew that she was hurt. She could be dying. He could have fatally hurt her.

Something inside Chandler snapped, and his vision went grey. He was aware that he was moving, but he couldn't see or feel what he was doing. He wasn't in control of what he was doing.

His vision returned a moment later, and Chandler found himself leaning over the attacker, knife in hand. He was screaming, and he could see blood, but he still wasn't sure what was going on. He still wasn't in control.

"-unt, stupid fucking asshole! I will kill you! You sick fuck! Selfish! Why! You fucking bastard! I hate you! I hate you! Fuck you, you sick son of a bitch! Why!"

Chandler could see and feel his hand moving, and he could hear and feel the abuse streaming from his lips. But he still wasn't in control. He still didn't comprehend. There was blood, but he couldn't comprehend.

"Fuck you! Fuck you! Bastard! Asshole! Fuck you!"

A hand grabbed Chandler's arm, and he spun around, knife ready to kill whoever was disturbing him; whoever was trying to stop him from getting his revenge.

"Chandler!" Rachel shouted, grabbing his arm before he could hurt her. Chandler gaped at her for a moment. He had been sure she was dead. He had been sure.

"Rach?" Chandler whimpered. He felt the knife fall from his hand. "Y-You're okay?"

Rachel nodded, clutching her injured shoulder. The knife wound hurt more then anything she had ever felt in her life, but she didn't care.

"I'm okay baby…its okay," she whispered. Chandler stared at her with wide eyes, his body trembling.

"I-I thought…I didn't know…" he murmured, glancing down at his hands. His blood covered hands. He let out a gasp, and turned around. A moan escaped his lips as he looked at the scene in front of him.

Rachel's attacker was dead. Very dead. He had been butchered. Chandler glanced from the body to his blood covered hands.

"N-No," he stammered, falling back. "I did that…I killed…I killed him."

Arms wrapped around him, and he leaned back into the embrace.

"Its okay Chandler, it's going to be okay," Rachel soothed in his ear, staring down at the body. Chandler had lost it. She had sat there, watching him repeatedly stab him, with vulgar profanities streaming from his lips. She had never seen such hate, such violence, such fury. He had lost control; he hadn't been Chandler anymore. Rachel had been in a state of shock, from both the pain and what Chandler was doing. It had taken her a minute to comprehend what was going on, and she suddenly realised she had to stop him. If she didn't, he could have gone all night, and there already wasn't much left of the man.

She had grabbed his shoulder in an attempt to stop him; an attempt to get Chandler to return to her. He had turned around, and Rachel had nearly had a heart attack. She knew that Chandler would never do anything to hurt her, but this wasn't Chandler.

"I killed him," Chandler whispered once more, shaking without mercy. Rachel pulled him closer, kissing his brow.

"Its okay Chandler, it's going to be okay," she repeated her earlier statement, although she wasn't sure if that was true. Chandler had just killed a man. How could it be okay?

"I killed him, I killed him." Rachel closed her eyes, feeling tears spring to them.

"I know…but it will be okay," she whispered. She felt another shudder go through Chandler and opened her eyes. He was staring blankly at the body, tears streaming down his cheeks. Rachel let out a sob.

"It's going to be okay Chandler," she insisted, her voice thick with emotion. "Everything will be okay."

"I'm tired Rach," Chandler murmured.

"You can sleep baby…its okay," Rachel whimpered, watching his blank face intently. He nodded but didn't close his eyes, instead continuing to stare at the body, tears still streaming down his face.

"I killed him," he whispered again, his voice dull and lifeless. Rachel shook her head.

"Don't worry about it sweetie," she insisted. Chandler shook his head slowly, never taking his eyes off the corpse. He raised his hand and wiped at his cheeks.

"I'm not supposed to be crying."

"You can cry baby."

"But I'm not going to. I can't, I won't, I mustn't."

Rachel let out another sob at his words.

"I killed him," Chandler repeated. "I'm tired." Rachel nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Just close your eyes honey…everything will be okay. You can sleep now," she whispered. Chandler nodded again and closed his eyes. Another sob escaped Rachel's lips as she felt him go limp in her arms.

He could sleep now.