He loosened his tie, which had been suffocating him more and more each inch of the way. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he grabbed the fear and rehearsed how he would go about all of this. It would not be easy, and it would probably end up with him getting hurt.

Chandler decided to take that risk. Peering through the window, he saw Monica sitting next to Ross, flipping through a magazine. She still looked so ravishing, and she was the most beautiful of God's creatures. Her flaxen hair, clinging to her cheek, was a sight to behold. Each strand belonged to that of a cherub, so young and innocent. Then there were her eyes. An endless whirlpool to her heart, a gateway to the soul which let in all the light of the world. If Chandler was a poet, he would definitely start writing about them that very moment. In truth, he could stare into those baby blues forever. They could be the last thing he ever saw and he would die happy. Monica's beauty nearly made him faint at that moment, but he knew he needed to tell her his feelings before his knees buckled, so the throes of rejection would be stymied.

"You ready, man?" Joey put his hand on his friend's shoulder, anxious to see how Monica would react. Never in a million years did he expect Chandler to reveal his feelings for her. Yet here he was, proud of his comrade-in-arms.

Chandler sighed heavily. "Yeah. Now or never." A wicked smile drew across his face, ready to accept whatever was coming to him. There was no turning back now, and it was best to face death with a grin, lest he brand you a gutless jellyfish.

All doubt was pushed aside; it would only make him hesitate. As he opened the door and walked in with Joey, Monica's pearly cobalt eyes shot up. She flashed a smile which threatened to attack Chandler's heart, yet he stood ready.

"Hey, you guys." Monica's voice became the sweetest nectar. It proved to be the voice in his head, pushing him to succeed in any endeavor. It was there when he was at work, droning day in and day out, telling him that he gets to see his friends- and her- at the end of the day.

Joey noticed a flaw in the plan that Chandler did not; Phoebe. She was on the other side of the room, smiling back at him. Immediately, he had to improvise. He would have to take her out of the equation, otherwise this would be nothing more than a folly.

"Hey, Pheebs!" Joey called, waving. He noticed the shock in Chandler's eyes; they had no plan 'B'. They had to go on raw instinct. "You wanna go grab some fried chicken from the cafeteria?"

"Well, actu-" Phoebe was interrupted.

"Alright! Let's go get some chicken!" Joey nervously pulled Phoebe out of the room, in the way that only he could. He winked at Chandler before leaving, leaving both him and Monica alone, a little startled. They turned to face each other, with her smiling and him scared to death.

For what seemed like forever, they looked at each other, smiling. Her beauty captivated him, and it took about a minute for Chandler to break the calm.

"So how is he doing?" He motioned toward Ross.

Monica exhaled weakly, but with solace. "They said he might wake up today." This brought great relief to them both, as the tension could be cut with a knife.

"That's… great." Chandler was obviously happy that his best friend was okay, but he wasn't happy that his best friend might catch him hitting on his sister.

Once again, silence filled the air. It was extremely unsettling.

Monica stared into his very soul, shining her luminescence into him. "Look Chandler, I need to tell you something. Something important." Her tone ripened into qualm, as if she was afraid of him. Seeing this, he was taken aback slightly.

He inquisitively leered at Monica, unsure of what was about to happen.

She froze in place, terrified. The fear had gotten to her. She did not want to hurt Chandler, but it had to be said. Pained, she spoke. "Umm, well, I don't know if it's because of whats been going on, and that I've been feeling… vulnerable, or something," Monica paused, ready to be torn asunder. Her heart had been ripped into two, and the final words came out, distraught.

"I think, I may have feelings for you."

Chandler's mind had shattered into pieces. She had feelings for him? And here he was, fretting, sweating, and brooding over their now effectively destroyed friendship. As he stood, his foolish attempt to remain stalwart backfired; he practically doubled over in agony. Monica hastily tried to help him, but he pulled away in protest. He believed he was saving her the trouble of lifting a finger to assist him, but in reality, this hurt her more than anything. Struggling to speak, Chandler shivered from the chills that ran up his spine. His body fell numb, and his throat dried up. It wasn't supposed to be this way.

Monica began crying, her shimmering sapphire eyes gleaming at him. Unable to judge his expression, she shouted in anguish. "Please, Chandler, say something!" His eyes shot back and forth in hysteria at what she had told him.

Stammering, the denial is clear in his tone. "I-It's unbelievable."

"What? What is?" Monica grilled him for an answer.

"Someone, as beautiful as you," Chandler swallowed rigidly, eyes widening with doubt. "Having feelings for someone like me…" His voice began trailing off, wondering how to wake up from this hallucination gone wrong.

"Chandler…" Monica blushed at his compliment, but snapped back to the situation briskly.

"H-How long?" His breathing became sluggish as he placed his hands on his hips, reeling in disbelief.

"I don't know. I've been lost ever since the accident. Then you said you'd protect me…" Monica began choking up, remembering the very moment. "Again, it's probably just because of all that's happened." She wiped her tears away, before glancing at him. "I just felt like you should know."

Monica turned her back on him. It was over, and the weight was lifted off of her shoulders, but it didn't feel any better. It took all of her remaining strength to keep from breaking down then and there. It was physically exhausting to even stand up. She headed over to the wall and leaned on it for support, nauseated.

Barely a whisper, her voice began to breaking up to a mere child's squeal. "Don't you feel the same way?"

Chandler's ears had betrayed him. Every single fiber of his being was crushed under this immense misery. It hurt so much, that he couldn't even feel it anymore. His heart had been deadened. He had failed in his mission. Protect her. He was a complete coward, running away like she was a pandemic. He never even realized what Monica was thinking; that she felt the same way he did. No, Chandler thought that she was simply trying to avoid hurting him. Monica was trying to protect him. Save him. Yet, she failed as well.

"…No." Chandler couldn't bring himself to do it. Not like this. Not while she was in so much turmoil. That would serve to destroy whatever relationship they had beyond repair. Nobody would win, and things would never be the same between them.

Stolid keystrokes bore a hole into her brain. Her wrists cramped, and her eyes became bloodshot. The long and unforgiving day hadn't taken effect until now. The buzzing of the fluorescent lights above irritated her past her breaking point. Rachel never believed that one day at work could have been so hard. However, it did take her mind off of Ross. Until now.

Droning in and out of reality, Rachel began to daydream about him. Sleeping in his hospital bed, wondering if he could feel anything. It must be cold, she thought. All alone in his mind, unable to focus on anything but his own dreams. She would do anything to take Ross's torment from him. Even if it cost her everything.

All she really wanted was to kiss him again, to hold his hand and become one with him. To prove that their love is eternal; that they can pull through anything. That this is no longer a nightmare that neither of them can wake from. Rachel quickly became anxious at the very thought. And, this made her work harder, just so she can get the hell out of there and go home.

The air in the office became thick, and Rachel realized that she was no longer the only one there. Attempting to ignore the presence, she continued to fill the last of her orders, and simply leave. Of course, this was easier said than done.

"Hey, Rach." That voice was familiar- and not welcome. Smiling a disgruntled smile, Rachel replied.

"Hey, Mark. What are you doing here?" Her tone filled with intentional annoyance, hoping that he would take the hint. He was the last person she needed to see right now. In fact, he was the last person she ever wanted to see.

Mark hung in the doorway with a concerned look on his face. "Joanna said that she left my last paycheck here?"

Rachel remembered Joanna tossing an envelope on her desk earlier, but passed it off as something miniscule. Pulling it out from under dozens of other papers, she did see it was indeed addressed to Mark. She sighed, and turned around to face him.

"Here." She quickly handed it over to him. Finishing her final order, she packed up her bag and tried to leave, but Mark had more to say.

"You, uh, wanna share a cab?" Noticing her tone, he decided to persist to make amends for whatever he had done.

Rachel sighed, knowing that it was not safe to walk home at night anymore. She decided to take up on his offer knowing that she was wrongfully mad at him. She looked at him and smiled, a bit more sincerely. He nodded back, and they leave the office.

Flagging a taxi, he opens Rachel's door, which surprised her. Never had he been so mannered. She thought of it as nothing, and she sat down in the back seat as they instructed the directions to their apartments.

As Rachel listened to the quiet pitter patter of the rain on the window, that night came screaming back to her, like it was a horror movie. Tears made their way down her silky smooth cheeks, and she tried to hush her sobs.

"I think you should go now."

"..What?"

"I really think you should go now."

"Okay, okay. This morning you said there was nothing so big that we couldn't work past this together-"

"Yeah, what the hell did I know!"

"Look, look, there's got to be a way we can work past this, okay. I can't imagine... I can't imagine my life without you. Without these arms, and your face, and this heart. Your good heart Rach, and, and..."

"No, I can't, you're a totally different person to me now. I used to think of you as somebody that would never, ever hurt me, ever. God, and now I just can't stop picturing with her, I can't, it doesn't matter what you say, or what you do, Ross. It's just changed everything. Forever."

The rest was too painful to remember. Her own words appalled her. The holding, the crying, it was too much to bear. It never should have happened in the first place.

Without her even realizing it, they were stopped outside of Rachel's apartment.

"Rachel?" Mark's voice brought her back from her reverie.

Rachel shook her head to keep herself awake. "Yeah? Oh. Sorry." She pulled out her wallet, dazed. Looking at the meter, she attempted to pay half the amount.

Mark put his hand up in dissent. "Don't worry, I've got it." He paid her half of the fare, which she greatly appreciated, but lacked the energy to show it. She glimpsed at him, and he knew she was thankful.

"Thanks, Mark. Goodbye."

"Wait." His tone became soft as he spoke again, while she scooted halfway out of the cab.

Mark leaned over, and pulled Rachel into a deep kiss, one that was tender and passionate but not well-received. She immediately pulled back, slapping him with her purse. The anger in her eyes was plain as day. She demanded an answer.

"Mark, what the hell is wrong with you!"

"I-I'm sorry, I did-" Rachel cut him off from his attempt to explain.

"God, just get the hell away from me!" She stormed out of the cab with her bag and walked into her building, dumbfounded as to why he would even try to make a move on her like that. It didn't matter; what he did was wrong, and now she knew for sure that Ross's jealousy for him was fair and just.

Still shaken from what just occurred, Rachel staggered up the stairs to her apartment, feeling the same ethereal hands trying to stop her. They almost did. Unlocking the door to her apartment, the dark halls from her dream ambushed her. Frightened, she stumbled into her home. The lights were off, but there was an unmistakable noise.

Monica laid on the couch, howling in distress.