(A/N) Thank yous to missdory, BluEyes, Laurie M, friendsfan101, and Bundy Shoes for the encouraging words. You guys are great! I know I say it every chapter, but I mean it! :)
So anyway, just as a heads-up, there's probably like 2-3 more chapters of this fic left. Don't want to spring the end upon you all on the last chapter, haha. I've written the second to last (needs revisions) already, and can I just say how nervous I am about the fic from here on out? Haha. Part of me thinks I'll be virtual-stoned by reviewers, but part of me wants to get it out there anyway. For now, onwards to more Barbados dramarama!


"Okay." Rachel shut the door to her hotel room behind her. "Why don't you tell me what's going on, Chandler. Because you're kind of freaking me out right now."

You're telling me. Chandler paced the room a couple of times before taking a seat on her bed. He folded his hands in his lap to avoid wringing them, but this only led to him nervously bouncing his right leg. Finally, he decided to just stand up.

"Okay," he sighed, exhaling so deeply that he actually felt his heart rate slow before he inhaled again. "See, the thing is… the thing. Here's the thing." This is ridiculous! he thought, in an attempt at bravery. Just do it. She'll understand. She understood about the bar fantasy, right?

Rachel raised her eyebrows in a gesture for him to continue.

"See, the thing is," he started over hesitantly, "lately… I've been having these… thoughts."

"Thoughts?"

"Thoughts." He nodded in confirmation. "Musings, if you will. Musings that aren't… good musings. Crazy musings."

"Huh." Rachel bit the side of her cheek in thought. "Okay…"

"And unless I've just been completely off my game since college, I'm pretty sure you've been having the same musings. About, you know. Us."

A long silence ensued, in which Rachel only stared at Chandler through narrowed eyes.

Five seconds passed, then ten. Twenty. Thirty. It was so quiet that you could've heard a pin drop.

Chandler was just starting to feel foolish for having brought it up when he saw a ray of realization flash through Rachel. Her eyes widened immediately, and her mouth dropped into a small 'o'.

"Wait. Wait." She squeezed her eyes shut, but her voice was calm. "Let me get this straight. Are you saying that… that you like me?"

"Yes, and I would like to ask you to the Spring Fling on Friday. Check Y for yes or N for no," Chandler quipped sarcastically.

But Rachel only ignored him, face still twisted in an unreadable expression. "How long?"

"Since the retreat, I guess."

Hearing this, Rachel groaned guiltily, "God, Chandler, is this because of the thing I told you? About the fantasy?"

"Maybe. I really don't know," he answered honestly, currently feeling like the world's biggest fool. "Look, first, let's not make a big thing out of this…"

"Big – thing?" she replied, suddenly angry. "Big thing? It's a huge thing!" She began pacing the room, occasionally placing a hand to her forehead. "What the hell are you doing?" She wheeled to face him, voice almost squeaking in her outburst. "Like, why - why? Why are you telling me this? And now?"

Chandler scrambled to his feet defensively. "I just wanted to get it out in the open! And hey, it's not like you were acting all innocent! What with all your –" he gestured wildly " – excessive hugging and - " he mimicked her voice " – I wish I would've gone back to you garbage?" He let his arms fall to his side. "You must've felt it too, didn't you?"

Rachel was silent. Chandler could almost see the gears churning in her head. Finally, she responded evasively, "It doesn't matter what I feel. This? This can't happen."

Chandler sighed. "You think I don't know that? Look, Rach, I'm not here to tell you that I like you and that the ball's in your court or anything like that. I'm not asking you to keep this thing, whatever this is, going. Okay? I'm here to tell you I know it's wrong, and I want it to stop. I just want to know if you feel the same, and that I haven't been imagining this whole thing."

Rachel closed her eyes and sighed. She walked over and took a seat on the bed, signaling Chandler to do the same. When he did, she took his hand in hers. She seemed just as nervous as Chandler did earlier. "Okay," Rachel started, shakily. "I shouldn't have yelled. To be honest, I was just angry at you for bringing it up because… because I thought that if neither of us acknowledged it, it meant it wasn't true. But I was wrong. You're – you were right."

You were right.

Chandler's heart stopped. I knew it. God, I knew it.

"Yeah." Her word came out in one sharp breath. "Of course I've noticed it. And it's not like I never thought about it – you know – us." She seemed to hear the blasphemy in her words, because she immediately continued with renewed resolve, "But I've felt horrible every time it's crossed my mind! I mean, I kept hoping it would just go away on its own, but-"

"Me too," Chandler sighed in relief, seizing upon her agreement like a lifesaver. "Me too. I hate myself for even thinking about it. I could never do it to Monica."

"Well, I guess –" Rachel stopped mid-sentence to offer a small smile. "I guess, maybe we should just try to stay apart for now. As long as we need. Until this all blows over."

Unexpected heat rose in Chandler's throat. He hadn't been expecting her to say this, much less expecting himself to react this way. "What?" he blurted, before he could stop himself. "No. That wasn't what I meant." Try something else. Anything else. Anything but being away from you.

She didn't answer.

"Rach," he pleaded. "Say something. Please."

Rachel's mouth set into a determined, grim line. She looked down at her hands. "I think you should go now."

Chandler's heart sank into his stomach.

It took every ounce of strength and willpower for him to get to his feet and walk the two lengths into the hallway without looking back at Rachel. It killed him to do so, but Chandler knew he had to go before he got in even deeper.

He never wanted to kiss her as badly as he did in that moment when the door clicked shut behind him.


It didn't take long for Chandler to feel immensely guilty about what he had just done. In fact, the more time that passed as he lay alone in his room, the more he spiraled into an inescapable blackness.

The conflicting feelings he'd been having for Rachel were enough. Sure, it was nothing more than natural attraction and a lust-based crush – but it was still wrong. Horribly, horribly wrong. Because you're married, Chandler reminded himself, having placed so much emphasis on the last word recently that it almost lost meaning. Married. She's your wife's best friend. Horribly, horribly wrong.

Then why does it feel so horribly right?

And then there was the other added hit to his morality. Your wife just had her life's dream crushed, and instead of staying by her side to comfort her, you jet off to Barbados and spend the entire trip flirting with her best friend? Oh, God. He hadn't realized how deplorable his actions had been until he had put it into words. It sounded like the story of some sleazy old businessman, not the story of goofy, good-guy Chandler Bing. Chandler Bing, who hadn't touched a girl until he was 19. Chandler, whose long-term girlfriends before Monica ranged from Janice to… well, Janice.

Sure –one part of him tried to reason – Monica had been the one to encourage him to go to Barbados without her to support Ross. And sure, if he were to have stayed, Monica would've most likely spent the whole time tense and nagging. Maybe some time apart was the best thing for both of them.

But – the other (larger) part of him retaliated – a good husband wouldn't care. He'd ignore his wife's well-intentioned protests and stay resolutely by her side, shrugging off her nagging arguments as a side effect of stress.

Chandler felt an ashamed heat in his throat as he thought about how much of a disappointment he was. Of a husband. Of a person.

And if that wasn't enough drama for one trip, Phoebe and Mike had just reunited and driven poor David out of the picture, and Charlie had broken up with Joey to go after Ross.

God. Chandler's head pounded with pent-up stress. If there were any more drama here, I could submit footage to The Real World: Barbados.

"This vacation sucks," Chandler stated loudly, into the empty room.

"Tell me about it, man," came Joey's muffled voice from behind his headboard.

Chandler gave the thin wall between his room and Joey's a reassuring pat. The two glum friends sat in silence, back-to-back in adjoining rooms – mirrored images and mirrored expressions. It was a while before Chandler's gaze wandered to the window, where he noticed that, for the first time since he'd arrived there, it was not being pelted by heavy raindrops. It was dark out now, of course, but the night sky was a clear navy blue.

"Hey, Joe?"

"Yeah?"

Chandler felt more excited than he'd been in a long while. "Want to go down to the pool? It stopped raining. We could probably swim some midnight laps."

There was a long pause, followed by a dejected wail, "Aw man, Charlie and I were supposed to do that!"

Whoops. "Uh, alright, never mind, man," Chandler rectified, already pulling out his swim trunks from his duffel and dutifully ignoring the murderous muttering on Joey's side of the wall.


(A/N) How was it? I hope you liked it! As always, feel free to leave me a comment/question/review/anything. Thank you for reading! I'll update ASAP. :)