Wow...hehe I have to say, a few of your reviews made me laugh! So many threats and so much anger...but all finishing with wonderful wonderful words and people saying that they can't seem to stop reading this...I'm glad that you can't stop! It's making me happy...but I am truly sorry for killing...people. I did say early on that this wasnt going to be a happy story! And Leondra...I am going to write a happy ending for a story one day! I will! Hopefully for Numb...maybe! Which I will update one day.

I've decided that I may just concentrate on this story until I finish it...which should be in a couple of chapters! I want to get this done and then I can fully focus on my other fics...so if I dont update my other stories for a couple of days...well, its because I am working so hard on this one! You should all be happy! But yes, i think that this will probably only have...hmm, 2 chapters left?

Oh, and to writerchic...no, we arent going to hear any more about Ross and Phoebe...I decided to leave that all to the imagination! You cant make up your own little side story for them if you like! And yes...I am an incredibly twisted person...but incredibly happy in real life! I am only depressing in my writing...gotta vent somewhere hehe!

Anyway, bed time for me! I will update very soon, I promise! This chap is only short, but...once more, thats how I wanted it! Please read and review while I continue the madness.

I do not own friends/characters/actors, but I am sure that Matt Perry will protect me from all you crazy murderous fans!

"Aren't you going to fight me?"

The voice that said those six words was so familiar, but at the same time so foreign. It was Monica's voice, but it wasn't.

Chandler had never heard Monica's voice like that. Never heard it so cold, so ruthless, so unloving. Her voice had never been like that.

But then, this wasn't Monica. Not anymore.

"No," Chandler answered simply. He couldn't fight her. Even though it wasn't Monica anymore, he still couldn't fight her.

"Why not? You could easily knock this gun from my hand and reach behind you. I know you have a gun tucked into your pants. You could easily kill me. Why don't you?"

"I could never hut Monica. I would much rather be dead then hurt her."

"Humans," she sneered. "They are consumed by their feelings." There was a pause, as Monica's familiar yet foreign eyes studied him. "Give me your gun."

Chandler reached behind him and took the gun out of his pants, then handed it to her wordlessly. She tucked it into her pants, never once letting her own gun waver.

"You claim you could never hurt her, but do you not think it would be better for her to die? Better then to be controlled for the rest of her pathetic life. Never moving, never speaking, never living. You care for her so much, yet you cannot put her out of that misery?"

When Chandler said nothing, she smiled; a sneer that made Chandler's stomach lurch. That was not a look that should ever have adorned Monica's face. She was too beautiful to contort her face in such a hideous way.

"We heard you screaming," she continued, the sneer still adorning her face. "She was so worried for you. She worries for you now. She sees all your injuries and your pain, and it tears her apart. She wants to hold you, help you…kiss you-"

"Stop it," Chandler snapped, shaking his head slightly. She cocked her head, her smile growing wider.

"She is pleading with me…pleading for your life. She is begging that I don't kill you…anyone but you. She has already felt so much pain…we saw Joey's body." Chandler bit his lip, a desperate attempt to keep the tears from coming. "She was devastated, naturally. Not just because of the pain that she was feeling at that moment. Not just because of the mess that Joey was…all that blood and bone and bra-"

"Please," Chandler whispered, feeling a tear slip down his cheek. He didn't want to remember. She smirked.

"She was devastated because she that you had seen the body as well…she knew that you were in so much pain over it. She was devastated. Just as she is devastated right now, knowing that Rachel is drowning among a sea of bodies…she hasn't resurfaced yet, and it has been a long time. Her best friend is drowning, and she saw her other friend without a head…but neither of those two compare to you Chandler. None of that compares to the pain she will feel when she watches you die, knowing that is was her hand that killed you. You would let her live like that; live in complete agony and devastation for the rest of her life…for so many years to come?"

"I-I…I can't…I can't do it," Chandler whispered, feeling more hot tears streaming down his cheeks. "I can't do it…don't ask me to do it. I can't hurt Monica."

"But I'm not her Chandler."

"But you are…you look like her…she is still in there, I would still be killing her, along with you…I can't do it."

"Weak…so weak," she motioned with her gun. "Walk."

Chandler walked past her, away from the rivers edge. He stopped and turned to face her, keeping his eyes on her; keeping his eyes on the mask that the alien wore. The mask that belonged to the woman he loved. He didn't look at the river. He didn't want to think of Rachel in there, drowning amongst all those bodies.

"She is crying Chandler; yelling at me. Using words that I have never heard before…harsh words that interest me," she smiled. "She is in so much pain…so consumed by her feelings for you. So weak."

"You're wrong. That doesn't make us weak. It's what makes us strong. We are willing to die for the ones we love; kill to save people we care about. That doesn't make us weak, it makes us strong. It's what makes us the superior race."

"Perhaps on this planet…but not anymore. We are the superior race now, because we are not weak. You're words are ridiculous."

"Maybe so, but it's what I believe."

She laughed, cocking the gun with a smug smile. Chandler flinched, but didn't take his eyes off of hers.

"Pathetic…there are memories of you telling them to close their eyes…I suggest that you do the same."

Chandler nodded, but continued to stare at the cold eyes in front of him.

"I'm sorry Mon…I love you." He closed his eyes, not seeing the spasm of her face.

"She…she heard you…she is fighting me. But she isn't going to win. She says she understands…that she could never hurt you either. Not that it matters. She is going to hurt you. She is going to kill you. She is going to do that because I am…I may control the body now, but it is still he-"

Her words were cut off by a deafening sound. The harsh noise was repeated twice more.

Rachel opened her eyes to see Monica fall to the ground, three bullet holes in her back. She lowered the gun with shaking hands, then let it drop to the ground once more. Her gaze went from Monica's body to Chandler's face. He was staring at Monica, his face and clothes sprayed with her blood. Rachel stared at him for a long while; stared at his blank face. She shivered, water dripping down her neck. She was soaked head to toe, but it didn't matter. It was like an afterthought. Her being wet was not a concern at that moment.

"You listened to me," he said finally, his voice tedious. "Close your eyes and shoot…you listened to me."

"I always listen Chandler," she whispered, her voice thick with unshed tears. "I may not seem to hear you, but I always listen." Chandler nodded, then kneeled down next to Monica. Rachel watched as he touched her hair gingerly, his face still blank.

She felt numb. She knew what she had just done. She had just killed her best friend.

No.

Her best friend had already been dead.

That wasn't true either.

But Rachel knew Monica; knew what she would have wanted. Monica would never have wanted to go on living, not being able to control herself. She would never have wanted for Chandler to die; for Chandler to be killed by her own hands.

Rachel knew that Monica would have wanted this, but she was still unsure. She had still just killed her best friend. She had done it to save Chandler, but she had still shot Monica.

Rachel was glad she was numb.

Otherwise that fact would have shattered her.

"You did the right thing Rach." Chandler's voice brought her out of her numb reverie and she looked down to see him touching Monica's engagement ring.

"Are you so sure of that?" Rachel whispered. Chandler nodded, never once taking his eyes off of his dead fiancé.

"She would have been trapped otherwise…she would have wanted this."

Rachel walked over and sat down next to Chandler, touching his shoulder gingerly.

"I know…"

"She would have wanted this," Chandler repeated and Rachel could still see the blank look in his eyes. She was sure that the same look was in her eyes. The look of shock.

"She would have wanted this," Rachel agreed softly, looking down at Monica's face. She looked so peaceful, like she was asleep. But Rachel knew that wasn't true.

She wasn't asleep, she was dead.

Rachel was so thankful that she was numb at that moment, but she knew that it wouldn't last. Neither would Chandler's seemingly apparent numbness.

In fact, it disappeared moments later, replaced with a sob.

Chandler pulled his shaking hand away from Monica and covered his mouth with it. He fell back slightly and the heart wrenching sobs from earlier returned.

"Why? Why couldn't it have been me?" he cried, his words almost impossible to understand through his sobs. "Why can't she stay?"

Rachel had lost count of how many times she had wrapped her arms around Chandler that day, but she did it once more.

"She's with everyone else now," she soothed.

"I don't care!" Chandler screamed. "Why can't she be with me? She's dead!"

Rachel tightened her grip around him as the sobs became harsher and pressed her lips against his brow. A lone tear fell down her cheek, but she knew that it would be the only one. She wasn't going to cry. To cry, she would have to feel something.

And she wasn't at that moment.

Rachel had a feeling that she wouldn't feel anything for the rest of her life – however short that time was.

She had killed her best friend.

That was something she couldn't deal with.