Thanks for the reviews. Sorry it's been a little longer than anticipated, but the second part is finally here. It's my first attempt at suspense, so constructive criticism is always welcome. So... let me know what you think. And of course, I don't own them (sigh).

Chandler whistled a nameless tune as he ambled down the busy New York sidewalk. His briefcase swung loosely at his side, keeping the rhythm of his stride. His coat flapped out behind him as it was caught by the brisk October wind.

A cab narrowly missed him as he stepped off the curb, but even the blaring horn could not dampen his mood. He was in high spirits. Leaving work early always put him in a better mood, but it was so much more than that. Monica had taken the day off, and he was looking forward to a spending a blissful afternoon with her.

Before London Chandler could never have foreseen the twists and turns his life would take. He never saw himself in a committed relationship with any woman, let alone one of his best friends. Monica had dictated that their relationship be kept a secret. It took everything he had to keep it to himself. Keeping a secret was not one of his stronger points. But he was determined not to screw this up. So he did it for her.

Admittedly, there was a certain logic to her reasoning. And sure, there was also a certain amount of superstition to it, and he didn't want to jinx it. But it was more than that. It was something just the two of them shared. And Chandler could respect that. He wanted to hold their relationship sacred.

The decision to tell Monica he loved her today came so quickly and easily. He didn't even need to give it a second thought. It was like he had been adrift at sea for months and he had finally found his anchor to reel him back into shore. Here - this place - was where he was always meant to be.

Chandler was lighter than air, his feet hardly touching the pavement as he rounded the last corner before their apartment building. Reality was an unwanted interruption to his daydreams, but interrupt it did, nevertheless.

He plucked his cell phone out of his coat pocket and flicked it open with a snap of his wrist. "Yeah," he barked into the phone, irritated.

He fumbled and nearly dropped the phone, causing him to drop his briefcase instead. He went back a step and retrieved it. The conversation continued as he stayed leaning against the corner of a building.

Chandler ended the conversation abruptly realizing that he had lost track of his keys. Although they were rarely a necessity, he figured it would not be prudent to leave a set of keys to his apartment floating around the streets of New York City. God knew there were plenty of crazies out there.

Head down, he scrutinized the sidewalk as he simultaneously patted himself down. Where the hell could they have gone?

His hands finally closed on the sought after item. They were deep down in his coat pocket, after all. He never kept them there. Feeling slightly confused and somewhat embarrassed at his absentmindedness, Chandler turned and headed in the direction of home once more.

Finally, like a mirage suddenly materializing, the apartment building was in sight. He approached the steps at a near-trot, anxious to see Monica and tell her what was in his heart. The words wanted to bubble up out of his soul.

He took the steps in leaps and bounds, stumbling only once. He quickly righted himself and made it to Monica's apartment. He flung the door open, calling out her name. There was only silence in return.

Chandler went from room to room searching for Monica, or a note, or something. He found nothing. Perplexed, he headed across the hall.

The sight that greeted him stole the breath from his throat. Monica was standing in the middle of what had once been his apartment. It was now an unrecognizable mess.

Chandler passed the shattered foosball table as he rushed to Monica's side. "Honey, are you okay?" He wrapped his arms around her trembling form.

She nodded imperceptibly as a terrible thought stampeded through his head. "Joey? Joey!" Chandler performed another room-to-room search, coming up empty.

"He's not here," Monica mumbled.

"My God," Chandler breathed. "What happened?"

His eyes scanned the ruined apartment. The recliners were slashed, the stuffing strewn about recklessly. The couch had received the same treatment. Their television lay in shards. The oddest thing was that nothing seemed to be missing - only destroyed.

"I - I um, came over to get the pan back you borrowed..." Monica trailed off, trying to explain her presence in the midst of this disaster. "I found it like this."

Chandler hugged her to him tightly. "Thank God you weren't hurt."

She affirmed this by shaking her head. "I called the police. They should be here any minute."

"Okay. Good." He continued to hold her, relieved no one had been home. The shape their belongings were in, he would hate to think what would have happened if...

Chandler struck that thought from his mind. It was too horrible to even entertain the notion. He continued to survey the damage, not able to comprehend it. A robbery was mortifying, but it had a purpose. This - this just seemed like random violence. Although no less of a violation, it was scarier somehow.

When the police finally arrived and surveyed the scene, Chandler could only watch in amazement as he clung to Monica's still-trembling form. His thoughts were going in a thousand different directions. Who would want to do this to us... Thank God no was here at the time...What if Monica had walked in on the scum...Will the scum come back...What am I going to say to Joey..

His mind raced with questions, but no satisfactory answers came. Since he couldn't answer his own questions, he would be no more successful when the police turned to him. His was a state of confused detachment.

Monica had been speaking to him, but he had not heard. "What?"

"Sweetie, you look pale. You need to sit down." Monica led him to a chair that had emerged relatively unscathed. Monica, for the most part, had recovered from the initial shock. She took comfort in taking care of Chandler.

Chandler let himself be led to the chair. Something in him just shut down, but it was awakened when Joey burst through the door.

"Oh my God! What happened?"

Chandler returned to a standing position. He felt incapable of speech. He shook his head as Joey stood anticipating a response. "I - I, uh dunno," Chandler muttered.

"Is everyone okay?" Joey's line of questioning was very to similar to Chandler's only minutes earlier.

"Yeah."

"What happened," Joey echoed.

Chandler was saved from trying to come up with an explanation as the policeman pulled him aside to get his report. He could see over the officer's shoulder that Monica was filling Joey in on what she knew. He could read the same bewilderment on Joey's face as he felt when he first entered the apartment.

Chandler breathed a sigh of relief when the officer was done with him. He jotted down some notes and joined his partner in giving the apartment another once over.

Joey walked up to Chandler and put a hand on his shoulder. "You okay, man? You don't look so hot?"

"So "I've been told." Chandler averted his eyes. Why the hell was he taking this so hard? It was just stuff for goodness sake. It wasn't one of his friends.

What he had been getting in bits and pieces finally came together in his head, and came crashing down all at once. It hit him with the equivalent force of an eighteen wheeler bearing down on a deer caught in its headlights.

Joey and Monica both noticed Chandler suddenly collapse into the chair. They grew concerned as they watched the color drain from his face. Sweat broke out on his brow as his eyes locked on something in the distance.

Monica was badly frightened at Chandler's reaction. She had never witnessed him in such a state. She kneeled next to him and gently shook his shoulder. "Chandler? Honey? What is it? What's wrong?"

Chandler could not respond. He was too deep inside his own brain to be susceptible to outside stimuli.

"C'mon, dude. You're scaring Monica." Joey looked away. That wasn't entirely true. Chandler was freaking him out too.

Chandler's breathing quickened to a breakneck pace, but he was completely unaware. He did not even blink when a bead of sweat trickled into his eye. He only vaguely heard someone say. "I think he's in shock."

What Chandler had finally figured out was - this wasn't a random act. They were targeted. The only real question, the only important one was, who was the target. And Chandler had a sinking, sickening pang deep in his gut that it was him.

That was his last coherent thought he had before he sank into the blackness.

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Chandler awakened to the claustrophobic sense that he was being watched. He squinted against the bright lights. He was alone in the sparse, white room.

He couldn't quite place where he was. His brain was still too foggy with...sleep? Sleep wasn't the right term. Chandler tried to piece together the events that had led him to being flat on his back in an unknown location.

The fog was beginning to lift, but he didn't have to wonder for long. Monica and Joey entered, each carrying a cup of coffee. From their haggard appearances it looked as if they had been up all night, but that was only partially true. It was the middle of the night, the dawn a couple of hours off.

"Hey, man. You're awake." Joey had always had a penchant for stating the obvious. As if he realized this, he cleared his throat and turned to Monica.

"You scared us, Chandler," Monica slightly admonished.

"Where am I?" Chandler knit his brow in confusion, still unable to grasp what had happened to him.

Monica scooted a chair closer to the bed and sat next to him. "You're in the emergency room at the hospital. You blanked out on us and then just sort of ... passed out. The officer that questioned you called an ambulance, and here you are." Monica squeezed his hand. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine. Foolish." Chandler played with a string on the blanket. "When can I go home?"

"The doctor just wanted to watch you. He said you were fine, just in shock. I imagine after they check you out again, they'll let you go home."

"I'll go let them know you're awake." Joey pointed to the door and then made a quick exit.

Monica took advantage of their moment alone. She kissed him on the lips. "Baby, you had me so worried. Don't do that again."

"I'm sorry." He once again entwined his fingers in hers. He made several false starts to say something before he could actually form words. "Monica..."

"Yeah?"

"I've got something to tell you. It's important." Chandler tried to gather his courage. This wasn't the ideal situation to tell someone you loved them, but he wanted to say it while he had the chance. He opened his mouth to speak, but the doctor interrupted him.

"Well, Mr Bing. Welcome back! How are you feeling?"

Chandler rolled his eyes, irritated. "I'm fine. When can I get out of this place?"

"Soon, I believe. I just need to examine you and we'll go from there."

The doctor advanced and proceeded to poke and prod Chandler with various instruments. Chandler endured this embarrassment so he could get the hell out of there.

He answered multiple questions until the doctor seemed satisfied. "Well, everything checks out. I feel comfortable letting you go as long as you have someone to look after you tonight."

Monica stroked Chandler's shoulder. "Oh, that won't be a problem." Chandler smiled up at her, grateful.

"Okay, I'll draw up the paper work while you get dressed."

Monica pulled his bag of clothes out from underneath the gurney and set them on top. She started to untie the hospital gown, but Chandler stopped her. "It's okay. I can do it. Really," he insisted, seeing her hesitating.

"Well, okay," she said reluctantly. "I guess I'll go tell the guys and then we'll get the car. I should only be five minutes. Meet you out front?"

Chandler nodded, but he didn't have time to respond otherwise. Monica was gone in a flash, having forgotten that Chandler wanted to tell her something.

He sighed and sat up, pulling his shirt and pants on. He had just finished tying his shoe when the nurse entered with the discharge paperwork. Chandler quickly signed out, only half hearing her instructions. He was too emotionally drained to process anything.

He stepped out the automatic doors into the still, black night. Monica and the others were nowhere in sight, but given Monica's sense of punctuality, he knew it wouldn't be long. He settled into a bench positioned off to the side of the main entrance.

The leaves rustled slightly as a gust of wind blew. Otherwise the night was eerily silent. Chandler shifted uncomfortably, silently wishing for them to hurry up. It was an irrational feeling, but he was totally creeped out.

The paranoia was getting the best of him. He swore he had heard a noise that was out of place. He glanced over his shoulder and saw nothing. He mentally chided himself for his sudden jumpiness.

What the hell was holding them up?

A set of headlights coming at him sent a flood of relief coursing through his body, but his heart stuttered when he realized it wasn't Phoebe's cab. His eyes scanned the vast parking lot as he heard an engine rev.

Chandler felt an icy finger poking into the back of his neck. He attempted to turn, but was stopped by a hand on the side of his face. "Don't move."

Chandler's heart started galloping in his chest, his breath coming in small, harsh bursts. He felt the sharp poke move from his neck to the small of his back.

He heard the engine coming closer and felt a glimmer of hope. That hope was crushed as he was dragged around the corner and into the bushes.

The foliage made dry snapping sounds as he was pushed along the back of the building to an unlit corner of the parking lot. He was forced over to an old, dilapidated car and watched in horror as the trunk popped open.

In the distance he could hear familiar voices. The hope welled up again as he recognized Monica's slightly irritated, slightly panicked voice. He opened his mouth to scream for his friends, but a sharp jab to the back caused him to close his mouth with a snap.

"Go ahead. Scream for you friends. Scream for help. Give me an excuse."

Chandler waged an internal battle. Could he yell for his friends to come to his aid while simultaneously twisting away from this madman? Could he outwit him and escape his grasp? Overpowering him was out of the question. Weapon versus no weapon won out every time. He was wrought with indecision.

His moment of hesitation would unknowingly cost him dearly in the torturous hours to come. At the break of dawn he would beg and plead to come back to this moment, and choose differently, taking the risk.

But he foolishly believed the voice when it said: "If you cooperate, you won't get hurt." He felt the sharp jab in his back again, then a small amount of warmth as a trickle of blood soaked through his shirt. "But if you scream..." A soundless chuckle fell next to his ear. "If you scream, I swear - I swear I will gut you like a fish."

TBC