Time passed like molasses. The doctor came through the doors in slow motion. She tried to read his face, but couldn't. It was a blank slate. He finally reached her and sat down next to her. Monica took a shaky breath as he turned to face her. "Monica, I'm sorry."

Her heart dropped into her stomach. That was it. Chandler was dead. She had lost him. She hadn't even had a chance to say goodbye. Monica was so wrapped up in her own pain, she nearly missed the doctor's next words.

"He has a really bad case of double pneumonia. We've got his breathing stabilized, but he is on high amounts of oxygen. We're giving him massive doses of iv antibiotics, but his fever hasn't broken yet." He let out a deep sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm afraid there's more. When Chandler experienced his last seizure, his breathing was already compromised. The seizure, as you already know, was a prolonged one which deprived his brain of even further oxygen."

"So what are you saying?"

"Chandler suffered a minor stroke as a result. We don't know exactly how bad the damage is because he hasn't woken up yet."

Monica had the breath taken right out of her mouth. She had been steeling herself for the moment when she lost Chandler forever. She expected the seizures, even the pneumonia. But a stroke? In his 30's? "Can I - can I see him," she stuttered out.

"Of course." The doctor led her down a brightly lit hallway and stopped in front of a glass door. He slid it open and stepped to the side so she could enter. She heard the door slide home as she took a step into the room.

A small cry escaped her lips without her knowing it. Chandler's face was obscured by an oxygen mask, his body hidden beneath blankets and monitors. It didn't seem possible, but somehow he appeared even smaller and frailer beneath all that hospital equipment. Monica moved towards the bed slowly. The chair scraped against the floor as she pulled it up next to the bed and sat down next to him.

Monica grasped his hand as she eyed the heart monitor bolted to the wall. His pulse was strong and steady which should have reassured her, but his stillness told her a different story. Even after the surgeries and the chemotherapy, he had never been this still. She had to look hard just to see the rise and fall of his chest. The utter silence of the hospital room unnerved her.

Monica scooted the chair closer. She brushed back his hair with her unsteady hand. "Oh, baby. How did we get here?" She struggled to suppress the tears. "I don't want it to end here, like this."

The room seemed to be closing in on her. Monica got up and paced the room. "I know you had Ross draw up some papers. You never were very good at keeping a secret." She smiled to herself. "But I never saw those papers so I don't know what your wishes are. What happens if you stop breathing - should I just let you go?"

Monica went back over to the bed and leaned down so she could whisper in his ear. "See sweetie, you have to get better. There are a lot of things we haven't talked about yet. I love you so much.I don't know what to do."

The only sounds in the room was the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor and the constant hissing of the oxygen. Monica hadn't felt this alone in a very long time. Most of her friends were halfway around the world, and the one that wasn't was at home with their children. She hugged herself in a vain attempt to beat back the feeling of isolation.

"Monica..."

She turned around at the sound of her father's voice. "What - um, what are you...how did you know I was here?" She should have been elated to see her father standing before her, but instead she was numb inside. Numbness was her only defense against all the bad cards they had been dealt in the last couple of years.

"Phoebe," Jack Geller answered simply. He stood at the foot of the bed studying Chandler's still form. "It doesn't even look like Chandler," he said aloud without realizing it.

Monica shook her head. "No. It doesn't," she agreed.

"How's he doing," Jack asked innocently.

Her face crumpled. "Oh, daddy," she choked out Her defenses were crumbling, and there was no way she could stop them. The emotions came pouring out of her.. Jack enveloped her in his arms as she broke down completely.

"Shh, it's gonna be okay. I'm here. It's okay," he soothed.

Monica accepted his well-meaning comfort, but she knew from the bottom of her soul that nothing would ever be okay again. This was the beginning of the end.

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Monica spent an uncomfortable night in the chair next to Chandler. She refused to leave his side for even a second. If the worst were to happen she couldn't stand the thought of him being all by himself. So her dad bunked down for the night too.

Jack was softly snoring, his head laying at an awkward angle. Monica rubbed the crick in her neck as she squinted against the sun shining through the blinds. When she regained her focus, she glanced in Chandler's direction. Monica was pleasantly surprised to see his eyes open. "Hey honey," she breathed with relief.

"Mon..." his eyes searched the room. "Where the hell am I?" His words were slightly muffled due to the oxygen mask.

She sniffed back her tears of joy at Chandler's recognition of her. "In a hospital, sweetie. You have a really bad case of pneumonia, and they're giving you antibiotics to fight it."Chandler moved to take off the mask, but she stilled him with a gentle hand. "You should really keep that on. Your breathing hasn't been so good."

Chandler merely nodded and let his eyes drift closed once again. Monica came around to the other side of the bed and sat down. She slid her left hand into his and gave it a squeeze. His fingers tried to close around her hand without success. Monica repositioned her hand. Again she felt his fingers attempt to close around hers. She looked down perplexed. "Chandler, sweetie. Squeeze my hand."

"I am," he uttered slightly irritated.

Monica gave him a forced smile which he was oblivious to. He was already falling back to sleep. She stayed beside him until his breathing deepened and evened out. Jack lay still sleeping undisturbed in the chair. She gave Chandler one final glance before she went to locate the doctor.

Her fingers drummed impatiently against the counter as she waited for the doctor to come up for his rounds. Finally, he was approaching. She fell in step beside him. "Dr. Marshall, Chandler woke up for a little bit."

"Good. That's very good." He continued walking.

"But I thought you said he had a minor stroke. If it was so minor then how come he can't squeeze my hand?"

The doctor halted at the divulgence of this latest development. He quickly changed direction, heading towards Chandler's room. "Can he move it at all?"

"A little."

They reached the door to the room. "If you wouldn't mind waiting outside so I can examine him."

The doctor disappeared into the room. A short time later Jack exited the room. Monica paced the hallway. Jack stood around, unsure of what to do. It was some time before the doctor came out.

He drew her aside. "I'm going to run a few more tests, but it appears that the stroke caused left sided hemiparesis." He registered Monica's confused glance. "Uh, sorry. The stroke left him with left-sided weakness. He can move his arm and his leg, but he's very weak."

Monica clamped her hand over her mouth to stop the tears. It seemed to be all she was doing lately. She knew better than to ask if there was any hope of recovery. "So what now?"

"I'll know better after I run some tests." He laid a well-meaning hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry."

Monica nodded and watched as he walked away. For the second time that day, she allowed herself to be accepted into a hug and cried on her dad's shoulder.

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"Oh God, Ross. This place is beautiful!" Rachel exclaimed. "Say we can stay here forever."

"Yeah, I wish." The last four days had been absolutely blissful. If Ross could have kept the two of them there, away from reality, he would have gladly done so. But whereas here they had total peace, a world away his sister and best friend were suffering and he could not put that totally out of his mind.

Rachel began making advances which he readily accepted. The ringing of the phone rudely interrupted their afternoon tryst. Ross almost didn't answer it, but he knew given the circumstances, he had no other choice but to pick up the phone. "Hello." He giggled as Rachel nibbled on his ear. "Oh, hi Mon. What's up?"

Ross listened silently for a few moments. He reluctantly pushed Rachel away. Rachel knew better than to be offended as she studied Ross's face. Something was definitely wrong. "Oh God." Ross sunk down onto the bed. "Yeah. Yeah. We'll be there as soon as we can. No, really it's okay. See you soon."

Rachel gave him a quizzical look. "It's Chandler..." he answered her unasked question.

Her breath caught in her throat, automatically fearing the worst. "Is he um - did he..."

"No, but he's in the hospital. Pneumonia." Ross let his head drop into his hands. "And he had a stroke. The doctors are doing tests, but things aren't looking so hot. Monica said he lost some function on his left side."

"I'll call the airline honey." She rubbed his shoulders. "Why don't you start packing?"

"Are you sure you don't mind cutting our honeymoon short?"

"Are you kidding? It's Chandler, our best friend. We have all the time in the world to make up for it. We need to go - to be there. If something happens and we're not there, we'll regret it for the rest of our lives."

Ross looked at her astonished. He always knew she had a good heart, but it still surprised him sometimes how unselfish she could be. He never would have guessed that the spoiled daddy's girl he met in high school would become the woman standing before him today. "You are so amazing."

"I know." She smiled at him. "But we seriously have to get a move on. We don't have a lot of time to waste."

Ross moved to begin packing as Rachel dialed the airline. In his heart he knew that it was Chandler that didn't have a lot of time. From here on out, everything they did would be a race against time.

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Ross and Rachel came trotting down the hallway. They hadn't been able to get a flight out until the next day. And even that flight was delayed. It took them nearly two days to get home to New York.

"Oh guys. Thank God," Monica greeted them. Phoebe followed close behind her, being unusually quiet.

The group hugged briefly. "How's he doing, Mon?" Ross shifted anxiously.

"Better. The pneumonia's starting to clear up, and he's more alert."

"Can we see him?"

"Sure, but why don't we grab some coffee first," Monica suggested.

"You know, I don't know if this is really the best time," Ross attempted to joke.

"Ross, I think coffee's a good idea. Monica has something important to discuss with you." Phoebe's voice cracked at that last statement.

Ross looked bewildered, but dutifully went along to the cafeteria. "Ross, did you bring the papers," Monica asked.

"Yeah." Ross pulled them out of his back pocket.

Monica skimmed them as the walked down the hall.

"What's this about, Mon? You're kinda freaking me out here."

The foursome found a quiet corner in the cafeteria. Monica continued to flip through the legal documents. When Rachel touched her hand, she jumped. She momentarily had forgotten the others presence. "Sweetie, mind telling us what this is all about?"

Monica took a couple of deep breaths. Her chin quivered briefly, but she willed it to still. "Chandler..." she started.

"He is getting better, right?" Ross felt his heart jump into his throat.

Monica chewed on her bottom lip. "The pneumonia is clearing up like I said." She paused, unsure of how to continue. "But the infection and the stroke put a tremendous strain on his body. The doctor says his organs are showing signs of beginning to fail."

Monica found it hard to look them in the eye. She sniffed hard and swiped at a stray tear. No one spoke, waiting for her to continue.

"Anyway, he thought it was time to discuss hospice care."

"Hospice," Ross echoed.

Monica nodded. "Yeah."

"So that means..."

"End of life care, yes. The doctor feels that the disease in its final stages." She couldn't prevent her voice from cracking. "And that it won't be too much longer."

Monica tried desperately to hold her emotions in, but to no avail. She broke down for the umpteenth time that week. Rachel and Phoebe cradled her as she sobbed. Ross sat, mouth agape. He couldn't believe what he just heard.

Monica composed herself. "So I think that maybe it is time to look into Hospice. At least that way he could be at home."

Ross teared up despite his efforts to be strong for his sister. "What does Chandler think about all this?"

For the first time in a long time, Ross saw that fire in her eyes that she got when she was really determined. "Given the circumstances, he feels it's the best option - the only option. He's accepted it Ross, and we should too. He wants to go home." He wants to go home to die, she finished in her head. Saying the words aloud were just too difficult to say.

Ross stood up. "I wanna see Chandler."

Monica automatically went on the defensive. "Chandler's made his decision, and I have too. Don't try to change his mind. He's going home."

Ross tried to allay her fears. "Monica, no matter how much I don't want to, I know I have to accept it. I'm glad you accept it too. You've just had more time to process it. I'll come to terms with it. I just wanna see my best friend."

Monica's attitude softened. "Of course. I'm sorry, it's just been a rough few days."

"I can only imagine, honey." Rachel gave her shoulders a supportive squeeze.

The foursome retraced their route back up to the floor Chandler was on. They hesitated outside his door for a second before entering. The group found him propped up with several pillows. He was leaning slightly to the left. Monica helped him shift, and readjust the pillows so he was sitting up straight.

For a long minute, no one spoke. Finally Rachel stepped forward to greet Chandler. "How ya doing Chandler?"

He slowly shifted his gaze from Monica to Rachel. "Aren't you supposed to be on your honeymoon?"

Rachel looked away not able to meet his eyes. Ross tried to make up some excuse about bad weather, but he could tell Chandler wasn't buying it. "Mon, I thought I asked you not to call them. The last thing I wanted was for their honeymoon to be ruined. They've both waited a long time for this." Although his speech was slow and a little slurred, the anger came through in his voice loud and clear.

Monica opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She didn't even have the energy to defend herself. "She didn't. I did," Phoebe stated. Monica knew Phoebe was just trying to make herself the scapegoat, and she appreciated it.

Ross played along. "Yeah. When Pheebs called us we wanted to come back. To tell the truth, we were getting bored there anyway."

"Rachel, get sick of room service? Never," Chandler scoffed. His tone lightened. "I appreciate you coming back to check on me, but you will never get another chance at a honeymoon."

"No, but I'll never have another best friend, either," Ross said in a rare expression of emotion.

Chandler playfully challenged him. "You have Joey."

Ross shook his head. "It's not the same and you know it." Ross smiled despite himself. "Dude, stop fishing for compliments."

"It's hard not to when you're as wonderful as I am." Chandler smiled and they all did not fail to notice that it was a slightly crooked smile. His smile didn't quite turn up all the way on his left side.

All the tubes and wires did not bother Rachel. She, like the others, had gotten used to that. But his lopsided smile sent pains running through her chest. "So when do we get to spring you from this place?"

"Soon I hope. Mon?"

"A coupla days I think. All the equipment has to be delivered. And the apartment isn't ready for you yet."

Chandler rolled his eyes. "What she means is, the place isn't 'sanitized for my protection' yet."

This statement elicited a few chuckles. But the underlying mood was somber. Chandler was small and frail. Each one tried to pretend they didn't notice anything was amiss, but it was clear his ailing body could not keep up with his razor-sharp mind. He appeared aged beyond his thirty-five years.

Chandler did his best to keep his friends at ease, and his friends in turn tried to act as if they were. It was a dance they were perfecting. But the pretense was starting to wear on him, and he was growing weary of it.

He let out a long sigh. "Look, time is short. Can we all just drop the charade?"

Ross played innocent. "I don't know you mean."

"Look, I can tell you're all uncomfortable. To tell the truth, I've had better days myself. I'm not okay and you know I'm not okay, and I know you all aren't okay. So let's stop pretending like we are." Chandler laid his head back on the pillow, the statement taking out of him all of his reserve energy.

Ross acted as if he were about to disprove Chandler's words, but Rachel stopped him. "Okay. No more bullshit." She approached the bed. "We all love you and we're scared to death of that moment when you will no longer be with us. It hurts us to see you like this."

"Good." Chandler swallowed hard. "That's a good start. I'm scared too," he admitted.

Ross stepped forward. "I'd be scared as hell too if I were in your shoes."

Chandler shook his head slowly. "It's not where I'm going that's so scary. It's what I'm leaving behind." He looked directly at Monica as he said this. She didn't need him to elaborate. She understood.

Monica took hold of his hand and answered his unasked question. "I cannot promise you I'll be fine with it for a very, very long time. But I can promise you I can try. And I promise that those two little babies will be loved so much they won't be able to stand it."

"I know," he whispered to her.

She smiled through her tears. "And I will never let them forget how much that you love them - how excited you were to be their father."

Chandler returned her smile. His vision was blurring with his own tears. She had told him exactly what he wanted to hear. That was what he was most afraid of - that he would be forgotten. That his children would grow up not knowing how much he had wanted them and cared for them. He did not want to leave this world, leaving behind only fading memories.

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"Monica, why do you look so down? Chandler's coming home today. Today should be a happy day," Phoebe said.

Rachel sat at the kitchen table, silent. She thought she knew why Monica was less than enthusiastic about Chandler's journey home. "You don't have to do this alone, you know. You have us."

" I know." Monica traced the curve of the couch with her fingers. "I also hired a nurse to come in so I'll have plenty of help."

"And the transport service is bringing him home. Ross is with him so it should go smoothly."

"I know that too."

"Then what is it? What's bothering you?"

Monica looked around the apartment and her gaze fell on the monstrosity that was before her. The men had delivered the hospital bed yesterday. Every time she walked by it or looked in its direction she was reminded. Not only was the love of her life dying, but she would never again feel herself in his arms. He wasn't physically capable of that now.

Rachel was intuitive and followed her gaze. She immediately understood the reason for Monica's sadness. There was nothing she could say or do to make the pain go away.

"I'm losing him a little bit at a time Rachel. I don't know what would have been worse. Chandler being taken away from me - from us suddenly, or having to watch him suffer through this - this disease."

Rachel got up and crossed the room to Monica. She gave her a warm hug. "There's no good way to lose somebody. There just isn't."

Monica blotted at her eyes and nose with a tissue. "I'm not ready to lose him, Rach. I'm just not."

"Will you ever be," Rachel asked softly.

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Over the next couple of weeks Chandler's health deteriorated even further. He wasn't even able to hold a glass of water to his lips to drink. He had to depend on everyone around him to do even the simplest thing. Although he tried not to show it, he was frustrated and embarrassed to no end.

His breathing had also taken a turn for the worse. The nurse had turned up the oxygen on her last visit, but it didn't seem to give him much relief. Chandler's only escape from the pain and the struggle to draw each breath was sleeping, something he was doing more and more of lately.

He was asleep when the knock came at the door. Monica opened it to reveal a strange man before her. "Yes? Can I help you?"

"Monica, you look lovely." Monica was still confused, but she was beginning to recognize the voice. She couldn't quite place it yet. "I'm here to see my son."

Then it clicked. It was Charles. Monica had never seen him before out of drag. "Mr. Bing - uh Mrs. Bing," she stuttered. "Please come in."

"Thank you dear. I'm not disturbing him am I?"

"No. Let me wake him up."

"No, don't do that on my account."

"Really, it's alright. I know he'll want to see you. It'll just be a minute. Why don't you have a seat?"

Charles began to sit, but thought better of it and opted to stand. He watched as Monica crossed the room to Chandler. From his vantage point he was unable to get a good look at his son.

Monica shook Chandler's shoulder gently. "Chandler."

Chandler turned his head to the sound of her voice. "Mon?"

"I'm sorry to wake you up baby, but you have a visitor."

Chandler strained to see who was standing beyond Monica. He didn't have to wonder for long. "Hello, son."

"Dad..."

Charles came up to the edge of the bed and got a really good look at Chandler for the first time. Of course the disease had taken its toll on him, but deep inside, Charles could see the helpless little boy that he had known and loved so much.

"Before you kick me out, I have some things I'd like to say to you."

"C'mon, Dad. I'm not gonna throw you out. I couldn't even if I wanted to, "he weakly joked.

"Son, I deeply regret all those missed years. I never wanted to abandon you, but I was honoring Nora's wishes to have nothing to do with the two of you." Chandler started to speak, but Charles stopped him with a hand. "I'm not blaming your mother. I'm blaming myself for listening to her."

"I just wanted you to know that I thought of you every single day. I always loved you, still do. And I am so proud of the man you've become."

Chandler had no idea what to say. He had been waiting most of his life for this kind of validation from his parents. He should have expected this cliche confession on his near-death bed, but it still took him by surprise. He welled up inside despite himself. "I did a lot of things wrong too, you know. I ignored your letters and calls. And to tell the truth, it was Monica that forced me to go to Vegas and invite you to the wedding."

Charles' face reflected how he felt inside. He had known that to be true on some level, but it still hurt to hear it. Chandler realized this. "No matter how it happened, I was really glad to get you back in my life."

"So was I." Charles teared up a bit. "And I'd like to stay in your life, as long as you'll let me."

Chandler nodded. "Okay." There could have been more stubborn arguments and tears and yelling, but there was no time for it now. It was time to let go of all the anger and sadness. It was time to let go of the past.

Monica came out holding Jack and Erica. "Would you like to hold your grandchildren?"

Charles readily accepted the set of twins from Monica. He gazed down at those two beautiful children. He may have made many mistakes with his son, but he would make sure that he didn't make the same ones with his son's children. "Thank you for letting me into your home - and back into your life."

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With the end drawing near, the four friends had each decided to take a leave of absence from work. No one could concentrate on their jobs anyway. Their thoughts constantly turned to Chandler. So one by one they put through the paperwork to take some time off. As a result, Monica had at least one of them there around the clock.

She was secretly grateful for this. The strain of taking care of Chandler and the twins was taking its toll on her. She rarely slept anymore. Even eating was falling by the wayside. Her three friends and even her parents made sure she ate and forced her to take naps. But the sleep was restless. She didn't want to miss even a moment that she had left with Chandler.

Ross and Rachel had just gotten back to their apartment after sitting with Chandler so Monica could get some rest. Just convincing her to go to sleep had been exhausting. Finally Ross had pulled his big brother act, and Monica capitulated.

The couple was left with the task of attending to Chandler's needs. Jack and Judy had taken the twins for the day to give Monica some relief.

Chandler was in excruciating pain, pain that seemed to be intensifying on a daily basis. There was very little relief they could offer their friend. Ross did the only thing he could do. He found himself shooting up his friend with morphine, left by the nurse for just that purpose. Ross had never done anything like that before, and he willed his hand to stop shaking as he slid the needle home.

Ross found himself holding his breath as he waited for his friend to get some relief from the pain. When he saw Chandler visibly relax, he let out the breath he was holding. He stared down at the needle as if it were a pariah, the realization of what he had just done hitting him like a ton of bricks. He had the urge to throw it down, get rid of it. But it was in fact a needle, so he disposed of it properly.

Ross could not get that image out of his head even in the privacy of their apartment.. Rachel could tell he was agitated by the way he paced their living room. "What's going on, Ross? What are you thinking about?"

"I think you can guess."

Rachel bounced Emma on her knee. "Yeah, me too. It's emotionally draining to say the least."

"Yeah," Ross agreed hanging his head. "It just sucks to stand by and watch, and not be able to do a damn thing about it."

Ross's face suddenly lit up with determination. Rachel did not care for that look, and watched in horror as he picked up the phone and began to dial. He had dialed several digits before Rachel grabbed it out of his hand and hung it up. "Ross, just what the hell do you think you are doing?"

"Something that should have been done a long time ago."

"Ross, this is so not your place."

"Like hell it isn't."

"You promised Chandler. We all did."

"If the situation was reversed, I would hope to God one of you would pick up the phone and tell me what was going on."

Rachel relented. She could deny it all she wanted, but the fact of the matter was the same thought had been going through her head. She was torn, as they all were, between keeping her promise to Chandler and being a friend.

She grasped his hands in her own. "Alright. I agree with you. But this is just not something you can say over the phone."

Ross sighed. "I know that. I wasn't calling out to California. I was placing a call to the airline."

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Ross made up some excuse about a last minute, emergency business trip. He hated lying to Monica, and especially Chandler. He knew Chandler would be angry with him, but at this point he didn't care. He would just have to get over it.

Ross enlisted Phoebe to drive him to the airport. He didn't have to do much convincing, unlike what he was expecting. She felt the same way he and Rachel did. Whereas normally he would be screaming at her about her crazy driving, he barely noticed. Faster was better at this point. He felt as if he were constantly in a race against the clock.

Phoebe dropped him off at the door and he ran to the counter. He didn't even bring any luggage. He didn't figure on being out there long enough to unpack anyway. He bought two tickets - one round-trip ticket and one open ended ticket.

Ross barely made the flight. He made it to the gate just as the last call for boarding was going over the loudspeaker. He hurriedly found his seat and clicked his seatbelt closed. It was going to be a long flight so he had plenty of time to prepare what he was going to say to Joey. The best way would probably be to just come out and say it.

The minutes passed slowly, and each second seemed longer than the last. He rushed out of the plane as soon as it landed and docked on the jetway. He hailed a cab and silently pleaded with it to hurry up as it zipped through the streets of LA.

He found himself standing before Joey's apartment door. He didn't have time to take in his surroundings, too focused on the task at hand. He raised his hand to knock, but hesitated slightly. This would change everything. He would have to choose his words carefully to lessen the blow to his friend.

There was a brief moment where he almost turned around and went home to New York, but he bit the bullet and rapped sharply on the door several times. When there was no answer, he knocked again He waited for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, Joey answered the door in his robe. It was clear he had been sleeping. "Oh my God. Ross," he exclaimed pulling him into the apartment.

"Hey Joey."

"What are you doing here? It doesn't matter. I'm just so happy to see you. How long are you staying?"

Ross couldn't get a word in edgewise through Joey's endless stream of questions. "So what brings you out here to LA? How are you doing? How is everybody back home?"

Ross paused, reluctant to dampen his friend's enthusiasm. But he had no choice. He had come all this way, and it had to be done. "Actually, not so good. That's why I'm here. Joey, you need to come back home."

TBC.