"Same again?" the bartender asked recognizing him instantly and Chandler nodded quickly.

"Can you make it a double?"

He watched as the man nodded and swiftly poured his drink into the clear glass, pushing it towards him. Chandler nodded his thanks, and was about to take that first magical sip when an over-excited Ross bounded into the bar and jumped onto the stool next to him.

"Hey man," the paleontologist smiled happily. "Isn't this like the best bachelor party ever?"

"What about your own one?" he deadpanned, taking that sip of alcohol, closing his eyes as he let it burn his throat.

"Yeah right," Ross snorted, "this is a little classier than the hut."

Chandler just grunted. He'd give anything to be in that hut right now. Things were so much less complicated back then. It was before unrequited love and lesbian wives.

"It's gonna be the best night ever," Ross continued, completely oblivious, "I've heard he's got the yacht until early morning and there's gonna be fireworks."

Chandler rolled his eyes, sincerely hoping neither were true. He didn't know how long he was going last, but knew he didn't exactly have an alternative. He was well and truly stuck here in this living hell.

"How great is it that Monica is marrying this man?" Ross jabbered on, "I mean, he's gonna be able to give her anything she wants, absolutely anything. She's never gonna have to worry about money or her future."

"Right," he swallowed down the pain with another mouthful of whiskey.

Of course Ross was going to be happy for his baby sister. He should be happy for her.

"And he's going to be Ben's uncle! Can you imagine the Christmas and Birthday gifts? It's just so awesome."

He closed his eyes again, just wishing Ross would disappear or at the very least-shut the hell up. He didn't need to be reminded of how perfect Pete was for Monica. How happy she was and what an amazing life she was going to have. He didn't need any of it.

"Aren't you playing poker with Joey?" Chandler cut across him, not caring that he was interrupting him, "Shouldn't you get back to that?"

"No," Ross frowned at Chandler's behavior, "he's off getting another lap dance."

"Oh."

Not knowing what else to say, Chandler lowered his eyes to his drink, wondering vaguely when it would start to do its job and numb the whole situation.

"Are you sure you're ok, man?" Ross asked.

He was getting fed up with people asking him that. Why couldn't they just leave him alone?

"I'm fine," he lied, pushing himself off from his stool, "excuse me." He left the bar praying that he could avoid bumping into anyone, for even just a little while.

"Chandler!" Joey yelled and he winced as he spotted him, "where the hell have you been? You're missing out on all the fun."

Chandler brought the glass of whiskey up to his lips to hide his look of disgust. Fun? Joey sat back further in his chair when one of the women came back, sitting in his lap, "You miss me, sweetheart?"

He moved his eyes from the pair to look around the table, and his anger rose when he saw a girl sitting on Pete's lap, a cigar in his mouth, laughing as she danced over him. He gritted his teeth together, having a sudden urge to punch him.

The woman moved off of him as Chandler walked around the table. Pete looked up at him, "You going to join us, Chanman?"

He had to lift the glass to his lips again so that hopefully no one saw him rolling his eyes, "No thanks," he answered quickly.

"Dude come on!" Joey said, pushing the empty chair next to him out, gesturing to the seat, "Sit down! Get a lap dance! Play some poker!"

He put up his free hand in defense, "Really not interested."

Jake nodded, "You've got to loosen up, man," he said, "this is a bachelor party! And not just any party...it's the party of the century!"

Chandler sighed, running his hand through his hair. He knew if he didn't join in some sort of activity it would look suspicious and that he'd never hear the end of it from his friends or at anything to do with Pete and Monica.

Pete and Monica.

Pete would tell Monica what a drag he was, and Monica would tell Rachel and Phoebe, and they would never forget it.

Why didn't he have the power to snap his fingers and be anywhere else?

He sighed, deciding that there was probably no way out of it, "Okay, fine." Walking over to the table, he sat down in the empty chair, earning a pat on the back from Joey.

The cards were dealt and Chandler tried his best to forget about why he was actually there, and pretend to have a good time. It was just a simply card game. He finished his drink again, and damn it, he forgot to ask the bartender if he could have the bottle.

"You need a refill, Chanman?" Pete asked, standing from the table and grabbing his glass.

"Chandler," he corrected, "whiskey on the rocks, thanks."

Pete chuckled, "Don't like nicknames, huh? It's cool. Me either."

Chandler picked up one of the red poker chips on the table, spinning it around in circles until it fell. He could think of several names for Pete...none of them very nice. He didn't mind nicknames, really, he didn't. There was just something about it when Pete said it; as if they were friends. He had no intention of ever being the man's friend. He was suffering through this for Monica.

The man in white, who right now he hated, hated for all of this, returned to the table, setting down Chandler's drink in front of him. He nodded at him, unable to make a verbal thank you leave his lips.

Another round was dealt, "So Pete, how many dates did you go on before Monica let you touch her?" Chandler's head snapped up to stare at one of Pete's friends that he didn't know. Didn't want to know.

Pete chuckled, grabbing a handful of peanuts and throwing them in his mouth, "Greg, seriously?"

"Yeah! What else are bachelor parties for? We've gotta talk about some sex, come on!"

Chandler couldn't hear this. He wouldn't hear this, "No, I really don't think we need to talk about Pete's sex life."

Joey looked over at Chandler, his smile lost from his face, "Dude, why not?"

Chandler sighed, "Monica is one of our best friends, Joey," he spoke softer to his friend so that the rest of the table wouldn't hear him, "I don't want to hear how Pete 'touches' her." He honestly thought he would jump off the boat...or at the very least see his dinner make another appearance. He just couldn't listen to that; wouldn't.

Joey thought about that for a second, nodding a little, "That makes sense." He sat back in his chair again, "I agree with Chandler, no Monica sex talk!"

Greg began rambling about a vacation with his girlfriend that was coming up, and Chandler let out a gigantic breath he'd been holding in. He needed more liquor, he wasn't feeling any effects of what he'd been drinking so far.

That was two men he wanted to punch until they forgot their own name.

What bastards.

"Pete! Pete! Pete! Pete!"

Chandler stood at the back of the small crowd that circled around Pete, his jaw clenched, his free hand forming a fist, his palm sweating.

"Pete! Pete! Pete! Pete!"

He watched as the man at the center of attention downed his drink and placed the empty glass on his head. Cheering in triumph.

God, he really didn't know how much more of this he could take. He felt sick to his stomach. The booze had finally started working and the world had turned a little fuzzy a while back. Unfortunately, the fuzziness hadn't dampened the pain he felt, hadn't made him forgot the woman of his dreams was about to marry another man...this man.

"Pete you rock, dude!" Someone shouted too close to Chandler's ear.

He winced, ironically starting to get that headache he'd faked earlier. Damn karma. His stomach was starting to rebel against both the alcohol and the fact he hadn't been on solid ground for hours. He felt hot, too hot; he'd already loosened his stupid bow tie. He needed air.

He turned to leave but was stopped by a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Can you believe Pete managed to drink all that?" Joey said, excitement in his voice.

He merely grunted, shrugging off the hand before taking another sip of tonight's poison, not caring as his stomach protested.

"It's a good thing he's not staying with Monica tonight right? He's gonna be a mess."

"Right," he swallowed hard, images of Pete and Monica together in bed flashing through his mind, taunting him. He had to escape.

"Where are you going?" Joey asked, his hand on his shoulder again, anchoring him and preventing his retreat, "they're about to bring out more food. I'm hoping for some sandwiches."

"I'm good on the food front," he promised. He didn't need food; he needed to get away from here.

"You sure?" Joey raised a skeptical eyebrow, "Because it looks like you've stuck to the drink front all night and could do with something to eat."

If he hadn't felt so rotten and sick to his core, he might have been slightly touched by Joey's attempt at mother henning or maybe even seen the truth in his statement. But right now he couldn't deal with it.

"I'm fine, Joe," he used his usual lie. "People drink on bachelor parties, right? It's the law."

He took another swig, as if to prove his point, but Joey's frown just deepened. Chandler sighed, he really didn't need this, "I'm gonna get some air," he announced, already walking away.

Chandler was grateful when his roommate didn't follow him. He was even more grateful to find the deck empty. He closed his eyes, letting the breeze hit his face as he tried to soothe the dull throb in his head, the queasiness in his stomach and pain in his heart.

He could still hear the laughter and the cheering in the background that mocked him. He hated this, all of this. He usually avoided Pete when he could. Not that Pete was a bad man, because he wasn't, he was just a very lucky man that Chandler couldn't help but resent. He didn't like having to spend time watching him with Monica. All their smiles, touches, and kisses...each one was like a knife straight to his already bruised heart.

And now he was stuck on a boat with the man and his closest friends. Forced to pretend to be happy for him and watch him be center of attention. Forced to listen to everyone celebrate and congratulate him again and again while he continued to suffer in silence.

Was he strong enough for this? Even after tonight he still had to endure days of last minute wedding talk, then the actual wedding. Then even if he survived the wedding he had to watch them leave on their honeymoon while he stayed at home imagining what they were doing. A shudder went through him.

Then when they came back there would be the photographs to sit through, to help him relive the nightmare, and then she'd be Pete's wife. She'd be living with him, married to him. Planning that family...and what was he meant to do? How was he meant to get over her? He was constantly reminded about just how freaking incredible the woman was. He knew he'd never find anyone like her.

And what hurt the most? That he could have been with her. It's not like he'd met her when she was with Pete. He'd known her for so long, been best friends with her. He had no one to blame for this situation but himself.

He had to forever live with the regret, knowing that he'd missed his chance and cursing himself for not taking the chance when he could have.

"Hey Sailor."

He opened his eyes, a slight frown creasing his forehead as he looked over at Ellie.

"Hey," he offered half-heartedly. He really didn't want company...apart from his whiskey glass and maybe another cigar.

As if by magic a cigar was in front of him. He cocked his head in a silent question.

"It looked like you might need one," she smiled. "Hell, it looked like you need something a lot stronger but this really isn't that type of crowd," she winked to show she was joking.

He nodded in thanks, taking her offering and lighting it with ease. Slowly he breathed in the smoke, savoring the feel of it. Man he missed smoking.

"So, you ready to talk about it yet?" she asked.

Chandler chuckled, although there was no humor, "you don't quit, do you?"

"No, not when I have personal interest," she smiled, winking.

Was she trying to hit on him? He was so out of practice he couldn't even tell, so he left the bait hanging.

"Come on, talk to me," she insisted, "it's not healthy keeping it all bottled up."

She placed a hand, complete with perfectly manicured nails onto his arm, stroking it lightly. He looked down at her hand, watching as it caressed him through the suit jacket slowly.

"So tell me," she continued softly, her voice practically purring. "You said Mr. Becker is the complication. Is it his girl you like?"

He closed his eyes. There were too many emotions and sensations coursing through him. He still felt sick, hot and drunk. Her hands were causing confusing goose bumps on his skin. He felt guilty for taking comfort in them, almost as if he were cheating on Monica. His brain was so confused, his beating heart breaking even more at her calling Monica Pete's girl. The injustice and hatred at the situation was bubbling up and he just didn't know what to do. He just wanted to blackout and let it all just pass him. Let him wake up when it was all over. The party, the wedding, and life... it was just too much.

Then he felt her lips on his. He stayed frozen as her lips slowly caressed his own, her breath hot against his skin. One hand stayed on his arm while the other gently, seductively stroked his cheek.

"I can make you feel better," she breathed into his ear. "Let me, I can take the pain away."

He wished that were true. Wished it would be that easy but it wouldn't be. Even in his present state he knew that.

"No," he shook his head, opening his eyes and taking a step back. "We can't do this."

"Why not?" she offered him a supportive smile, taking a step towards him. He felt like prey. "Come on, she's not your girlfriend or your wife." she pointed out as he continued to shake his head. "She's going to be someone else's wife," she reminded him. She was in his personal space, her fingers stroking the front of his crisp white shirt. A couple of long fingers crept between the buttons and touched his skin.

"No," he backed away more forcefully, as if the skin contact shocked him into action. He stepped fully away, scrubbing a hand through his hair and thankfully she took the hint and didn't follow him. "Look," he sighed, "you're a pretty girl and I appreciate what you're trying to do, but my head's really not in a good place right now, ok? I can't handle doing...that...not while my thoughts are with her...it wouldn't be right."

"It might help?" she suggested. "You need to move on. It's not healthy longing for someone else's girlfriend."

"You think I don't know that?" he sighed heavily. "I know that and I'll move on when I'm ready. Right now she's all I can think about, this isn't just some kindergarten crush. It's going to take time for me to move on from her and forget her. Just drop it, ok? Please, just drop it," he said quietly.

Silently Chandler walked over to the railing again, closing his eyes and trying to block everything out.

"You really love her, don't you?" she asked softly.

Chandler didn't open his eyes, didn't turn to face her. He just nodded.

"I hope she's worth this heartache."

He listened as she left, her high heels clicking against the boat as she walked away.

"She is," Chandler breathed quietly, letting his head hang.

That was the problem. She was worth everything.

"Who is she?"

Chandler's eyes opened wide as he spun around to find Joey standing there.

Aw crap.

TBC...

A/N - thanks guys for your reviews- all are hugely appreciated! Would love to hear what you think of this chapter. Thanks!