(A/N): I'm so incredibly sorry I haven't updated in such a long while, what has it been? A year? Jeez, you guys must hate me. Reason is I've really gotten into the A-Team lately, so if you like that show, check out some of my stories and leave a review. Anywho, I'm babbling. On with the story.

Disclaimer: Sadly, I own nothing you recognize.

It was the strangest sensation.

It felt like something softly tearing inside his head and then everything became much more daunting, scarier than normal. When the doctor announced that Monica had cancer he couldn't actually believe it. He couldn't believe anything anymore. He was even beginning to doubt his sanity at first. Now to him there was no such word as 'sanity'.

Ross was a wreck, but not as much as Chandler himself though. The paleontologist hadn't spoken about dinosaurs in weeks. It was quite unnerving. And Joey rarely ever raided their fridge anymore. Rachel hadn't been seen with a shopping bag since the big 'C Bomb' was dropped on her best friend. Phoebe didn't really play her guitar much either.

How could one horrible disease ruin the lives of six people?

So now his friends were afraid of him. More than afraid, really. Cautious, terrified, pitiful were probably more accurate feelings. He wasn't Chandler anymore; he was someone they weren't comfortable being around, someone who they'd try and usually avoid. But this was their friend. And because he was their friend they had a responsibility to care for him and pull him out of this dark patch he'd sunken into. But it was not going to be easy.

But the question was, would Chandler ever be Chandler again?

And they all knew the answer.

No, he wouldn't.

When they found him, shaking, crying, they didn't know what to do. Would it be wise to go to a professional? It was something that had crossed their minds quite a lot recently. Would Chandler be willing to receive help? They expected him to hate the idea of going to a shrink, any of them would.

Phoebe began to gently guide him back to the bed, which was now damp with perspiration. As he lay down he began to whimper, "Please don't leave me alone with her. She's t-trying to kill me."

They all glanced at each other and with a single nod from Joey, Rachel knew what had to be done.

"Honey, we think you need help." She said, stroking his trembling arm gently, "You're sick."

"Sick? I'm not sick-"

"You are, Chan, and we think it'd be best if you saw someone."

"What are you talking about!?" He asked, his voice raising slightly as he clutched the sheets with an iron grip.

"A psychiatrist," Ross said sourly.

Chandler scrutinized his friends with angry, bitter filled eyes. Did they think he was insane? Were they going to ship him off to a nut house? Were they abandoning him?

"I'm not crazy," He told them, now sitting up and hunched over, "I don't need to see a quack."

"We're not saying you're crazy, Chandler, we just think that you need some help, that's all." Phoebe tried comfortingly, but the man in the bed only rejected her kindness.

"Oh and what is 'help', huh? You're just gonna dope me up and lock me in a booby hatch, is that it? Is that what 'help' is?" He shot angrily. Each of them looked stunned. They hadn't expected their friend to react this badly to the idea. The sorrow and desperation they had just seen had been quickly replaced with rage and hatred.

"Look, buddy, we're only tryin' to solve this problem." Joey whispered loudly.

"W-W-What problem? I-I don't have a problem-" He stuttered.

"Yes you do, Chandler. You do." Countered Ross, coming closer to the bed.

The chocolate-haired man pushed him away angrily. "I don't need your help! Get away from me, don't touch me! I hate you, I HATE YOU!" He screamed.

The friends stared at Chandler in shocked silence. Rachel started to tear up and quickly left the room, Phoebe followed her; then Joey. Ross eyed his best friend with an unreadable expression on his face.

"What happened to you, man?" He asked. And without another word he walked out the door.