Hi Ya'all, I'm back with yet another installment of this story, and I finally did the thing i didnt want to do! And it...well, it was hard but oh well! Ive done it, its all good...not really! My friend deanne didnt like this chapter:( But once more! Oh well! This chap might disturb some..or maybe it was just deanne, i dont know! Its not like all my other stories arentdisturbinghehe. Thankyou for all your reviews, and please keep reading and reviewing...and remember...keep your eyes on the skies!...I dont know why i said that, i really dont!

I do not own friends/characters/actors, but if there was an alien invasion, I would very much like it if Matthew Perry was the one protecting me...him and his slowly growing, muscular arms... drools...uh, sorry, where was I? Lost my trail of thought...oh yeah! I didnt steal nufin, I'm jsut borrowing!

Why?

That word was racing through Monica's head, faster and faster with each cycle.

Why?

Why was life so unfair?

Why had this happened to them?

Why couldn't they be lounging in front of the TV, instead of hiding from an unseen enemy?

Why did the eyes that Monica longed to see have to open at that moment?

"Mon?" Chandler repeated, his frown deepening. "W-Where…where are we? Where's…Joey?"

It took a long moment, but Chandler got his answer.

"We are in a cave honey…Joey is getting some firewood to help you." Monica regretted the words the second they left her mouth, but there was nothing she could do.

"To help me?" Monica's words confused Chandler all the more. His head hurt, his chest hurt, his everything hurt. He was trying to think straight but there was a fog in his brain, cutting him off from all the answers he longed for.

"You should be asleep Chandler." Rachel took over when Monica looked away, unable to give Chandler an answer. Unable to explain to Chandler what they were about to do to him. "Go back to sleep sweetie."

"Well, I'm awake now…h-how will firewood help me?"

Neither of the girls answered, and it soon turned out they didn't have to. Chandler may have been confused at that moment, but the answer still shone through the fog in his brain. "Oh…oh! Well, this is going to be fun."

"Would have been fun if you hadn't woken up," Monica joked weakly as she ran her hand over her fiancée's sweaty brow. It didn't surprise her that Chandler had figured it out. He had always been quick, both with wit and smarts.

"I-I never follow the rules, you know that." The girls smiled at his attempt at a joke, glad that he wasn't panicking. "So…you're going to poke me with a…hot stick?"

"Pretty much," Rachel said softly, shaking her head. She really didn't want to do this. Chandler obviously didn't either, judging from the way he swallowed nervously.

"Well, I got some wood, I'm not sure if it will be…" Joey trailed off, stopping in the cave's entrance. "No, no, no! You're supposed to be asleep!"

"I'm starting to wish I was," Chandler muttered. Joey rolled his eyes as he walked inside, placing the armful of wood on the ground.

"Stubborn jackass." Chandler smirked weakly at Joey's comment, watching as his best friend arranged the wood to his liking, then took a lighter from his pocket.

"Where'd you get the lighter?"

"From the car," Joey answered, lighting the pile of wood. The flame flickered slightly, then lit up like a Christmas tree. "Well, as much as I dislike New Jersey, I must admit that they have good firewood."

"I never got why you hated Jersey so much Joe," Monica said conversationally, watching as Joey stoked the roaring fire.

"I don't know either…I just do. It's like my parents and the Irish."

"Your parents don't like the Irish?" Rachel exclaimed.

"My parent's hate the Irish! That, and the Post Office."

"Wow…you learn something new everyday," Chandler muttered, watching Joey nervously. Monica smiled reassuringly down at him, causing him to smile back.

"Which piece of wood? The big one, or the bigger one?" Joey asked, holding up two large sticks with slightly shaking hands. He was being casual about this, but deep down he was terrified. He was about to scorch his best friend, with no pain relief or anything. He was not looking forward to this, but he had nothing on Chandler. His friend had started to breathe quicker, looking more and more panicked as the seconds passed. Joey was furious that he had woken up. He knew that God worked in mysterious ways, but this was unacceptable. Everything that had happened that day was unacceptable.

"I-I think the big one will be just fine," Chandler whispered, pressing his body against Rachel's thigh.

"D-Do we really have to do this?" Rachel asked, squirming slightly.

"No…no, we will just wait until I bleed to death, shall we?" Chandler's remark resulted in Monica rolling her eyes. Still making jokes, she thought with a small smile.

"Good point," Rachel muttered, glancing down at him with a look of grief. There was a long silence, which was finally broken by Chandler.

"Are we going to do this, or am I actually going to bleed to death?"

"Yeah, we're doing this." Joey placed the piece of wood on the ground for the moment, then leaned over Chandler. "This is going to be the only time I ever do this, you got me?" He didn't wait for an answer, just started to unbutton Chandler's shirt.

"Saucy," Chandler quipped nervously. "You do it much quicker then Monica."

"Keep that up and I won't be doing it anymore." Rachel smiled at Monica's words, watching Joey pull Chandler's shirt away from the wound. She grimaced at the blood.

"It looks much worse then it is," Chandler insisted once more, although the pain in his voice gave away his lie. Monica reached into the bag, pulling out a bottle of water. She unscrewed the lid, then poured the remaining contents on his shoulder. The blood washed away and Rachel grimaced once more. She wasn't sure what sort of gun had shot him, but it had ripped apart his shoulder.

"We're gonna need the bigger stick," Joey said after a long silence, leaning over to pick up the larger piece of wood. Chandler squirmed unconsciously, staring at the wood with apprehension.

"You sure? I mean, the other one was pretty big…won't that do?"

"Sorry buddy," Joey whispered, glancing down at his best friend. Chandler pouted slightly then sighed, nodding his head.

"Okay, let's do this…get it over and done with."

"Alright…Monica, Rach, you two hold him down," Joey instructed. Chandler smirked slightly, his body trembling with both pain and fear.

"Careful…my manly physique might be too much for the both of you to handle."

"Honey, I handle your manly physique on a daily basis…I think we will do fine," Monica teased nervously, as both girls took a hold of him; Monica holding his right, undamaged shoulder, Rachel holding his legs. "I love you."

Chandler smiled at his future wife's words, covering her hand with his own.

"I love you too," he whispered, all trace of humour gone from his eyes. "You…you two should probably close your eyes…I don't want you to see this." The girls nodded, Monica closing her eyes. Rachel watched as Joey lit the bigger stick with shaking hands. He turned to face Chandler, his features white and drawn.

"Rach." She turned to find Chandler's blue eyes boring into her critically. "Close your eyes." Rachel nodded once more, this time listening to him. She closed her eyes.

She was torn, feeling like she was watching a natural disaster, a tornado or avalanche. You try to tear your eyes away, not wanting to see the horror, but quite often you can't. Quite often you find yourself still staring, seeing something you don't want to see.

Rachel didn't want to see this, but she knew that if Chandler hadn't spoken, she would have still been watching. She would have seen something that haunted her for the rest of her life.

However long that was.

"Are you ready?" Joey's voice was small and weak, a stark contrast to the usual confidence he possessed.

"Are you ready?" Chandler countered.

"…No."

"Well, neither am I, but don't let that stop you."

Rachel listened to the two boys talk; their voice's shaking with fear and apprehension. She listened to the silence that followed, filled with tension. She listened to Chandler's harsh breaths, growing quicker and quicker as the seconds passed. He was terrified. He was panicked. He was sarcastic. He was everything Rachel expected him to be in the situation.

The silence continued and Rachel had to repeatedly stop herself from opening her eyes. She knew what was going on. Joey was hesitating. Joey was unsure whether he could do this. Rachel was sure that this was one of the hardest things he had ever done, possibly even the hardest.

"So…are you gonna do it?"

Rachel couldn't help but smile at Chandler's annoyance. He was about to be brutally burnt, and he was growing impatient.

"Give me a minute."

"I've given you, like, three minutes."

"This is hard, alright?"

"Oh yeah, it's so hard for you…you're not the one getting a burning piece of wood shoved against their bleeding wound!"

"I am the one doing it though!"

"It can't be that hard Joe, it ain't Geometry!"

Rachel knew what Chandler was doing. Joey was hesitating, so Chandler was taunting him. Trying to get him annoyed. Trying to get him annoyed enough that he would want to do it. It was a smart plan, one that only Chandler would have come up with.

"I'm not ready yet Chandler."

"And I'm not regaining any blood here! Jesus, what are you, six? Just do it!"

Chandler's mocking words were replaced with a sound that Rachel never wanted to hear again. The sound of burning skin, closely followed by Chandler's agonising cries. He bucked under her, and Rachel tightened her hold on his legs, feeling tears pool in her closed eyes. She wanted nothing more then to release her hold and cover her ears, blocking them from the horrific sounds. Or better yet, pull Joey away from her friend. Pull Joey and the burning piece of wood away from Chandler, and comfort her friend.

But she didn't do that. She couldn't. So, instead she tightened her hold on his legs, silently crying and cursing who or whatever had caused this to happen.

Chandler's heartbreaking screams and sobs pierced the quiet of the night, terrible and inhumane. Then, just as quickly as they had started, they stopped.

There was silence once more; deathly silence which was soon replaced by the sound of footsteps. Rachel opened her eyes to see Joey running from the cave. The sounds of vomiting followed soon after. She stared out into the darkness for a moment, not wanting to turn around. She didn't want to see Chandler, either in pain or unconscious. She didn't want to see Monica grieving over her lovers' pain. She didn't want to see Chandler's shoulder; burnt and angry. She could already smell it.

She could smell the sickening scent of burnt flesh, made all the worse by the fact she knew what had been burnt. Her friend. A man she cared about greatly. One of her older brothers.

She couldn't turn around to see him like that. But she knew she had to. Monica needed someone. Chandler needed someone. And seeing Joey was preoccupied, Rachel was that someone.

She turned around.

Chandler was unconscious once more. Rachel supposed that was a blessing, although she wanted nothing more than to talk to him at that moment. Check to see if he was okay.

He wasn't okay though.

She already knew that.

How could he be okay after what had just happened? Not only the burning stick, but everything? The loss of his home, his life, everyone else's life. The possible loss of Ross and Phoebe-

Rachel pushed those thoughts out of her mind and gently released her hold on Chandler's limp legs. Legs that had only recently been bucking and writhing with pain never felt before.

"He's asleep." Monica's voice was dull as she stated the obvious. Rachel turned her attention to her best friend, finding her staring blankly at her fiancée, silent tears streaming down her pale and dirty cheeks. Rachel wondered for a moment whether Monica was aware that she was crying. The moment passed and Rachel felt the need to do something; anything. If she couldn't help Chandler, she sure as hell could help Monica.

"It's okay sweetie," she soothed, taking her best friend in her arms. Monica blinked rapidly, shaking her head as though she was waking from a dream.

"How could it be okay?" she whispered, not taking her eyes off of Chandler. "Everything is wrong. The world is being destroyed…everyone is dying. And yet, all I can do is Thank God that they died and Chandler survived. I'm grateful that everyone else died and Chandler lived…am I a horrible person?"

"No Mon, you're not." Rachel tightened her hold on Monica as her friend began to sob. "It's human nature to do that, to be worried about your loved ones and your loved ones only…It isn't horrible, or selfish, or anything terrible. Its…I don't know what it is, but it isn't horrible."

Monica nodded as the tears fell harder still, and finally tore her eyes from Chandler's limp form.

"I-I love him so much!" she cried, burying her face in Rachel's shoulder. Rachel nodded, smoothing her friend's messy hair back with her hand.

"I know sweetie, I know."

She held Monica for a long time; held her crying best friend. Joey didn't return in that time, and Rachel worried for him. Was he blaming himself? She didn't know, but she predicted that he was. She would have gone searching for him but she couldn't leave Monica.

So, instead she sat there, her trembling friend in her arms, worrying about Joey. Worrying about Monica. Especially worrying about Chandler.

She worried that he would get worse still. That he could develop an infection, or a fever, or anything else that could turn life threatening. They didn't have any pain medication, nothing to treat him but water and kind words. If he got sick, he was in serious trouble.

Rachel smoothed Monica's hair back once more, staring at Chandler's blackened and raw shoulder. It had stopped bleeding; their plan had worked. But she wondered if it had been worth it. There could have been other ways, less painful ways.

It didn't matter now. They couldn't turn back time. She couldn't stop Joey from burning Chandler's shoulder; no more then she could stop the invasion of their world.

Rachel glanced from Chandler's shoulder to his now serene face, glad that he had found peace away from the pain, if only for a short while. She wished that she could too; find a way to leave the terror, the concern, and most of all, the smell behind. But she couldn't find that way, so she was subjected to the terror, the concern and the horrific smell of burnt flesh. Chandler's burnt flesh. She couldn't stand it.

She tried to block it out, but found she couldn't. There was no way to block her nose. Instead, she drifted off to happier times; fond memories.

Christmas with her friends. Birthdays with her friends. And most of all, Thanksgiving with her friends. That was always her favourite day of the year because it was unpredictable. Nothing ever went right, but despite that, and despite Chandler's hatred for the holiday, she adored it.

She wished it was Thanksgiving now.

But that holiday was far off; perhaps even nonexistent now. If they didn't get help soon, they wouldn't be able to celebrate it. If they didn't get help soon, they would be in big trouble. She knew that.

Sadly, she also knew that there was most likely no help to be found, and that worried her more than anything.

They were in big trouble.