Present Day:

Gravely he met Rachel's eyes, seeing the genuine pain and concern there.

"You're not the only one hating London," he finally admitted, walking back over to the bench and taking a seat; cautiously she joined him.

"What happened?" she asked softly.

He took some deep breaths, readying himself to voice his nightmare. To speak the words aloud for the first time and make them real.

"Monica and Joey…" he couldn't bring himself to completely say it but given her gasp he knew she understood.

"Monica and Joey?" She looked shocked but not disgusted. Not as horrified as he had been. "Really? Wow. That's just…crazy…" he felt her look over to him with a confused frown, "but why would that…?"

She was studying him again and not liking it he closed his eyes, his free hand pinching the bridge of his nose to try and ward off the emotions. He could feel the looming headache at the edges of his skull.

"You like Monica?" she said it gently.

He could do nothing but swallow and nod. It was a pointless secret now anyhow; one made redundant by last night's hell.

"Oh, Chandler."

He felt himself being pulled into a hug and he gratefully accepted. Hugging her tightly he clung to her as he allowed himself this brief comfort. Knowing how much she was also hurting, he hoped it was helping her too. They both needed a friend.

Eventually, they pulled apart and Chandler attempted a small smile of thanks but he didn't quite manage to pull it off; it was more a grimace.

"We make quite a pair don't we?" she murmured quietly, her voice void of any humor.

He nodded unable to disagree.

"How did you find out?" she asked curiously.

"I walked in on them last night."

"Oh god," he felt a hand on his knee, "I'm really sorry Chandler. You've been going through this all night? No wonder you look so crap."

"Don't try and sugar coat it will ya," he offered a half-smile to show he didn't mean it. He knew how crap he looked and how crap he felt. "I won't lie, it's been the night from hell."

~/flash-back – the night before/~

A group of noisy youths walked past, completely ignoring him. Their British accents just emphasizing to him how far away from home he was right now.

Should he try and go home? Get on a plane to New York and leave all his troubles in London. How, he wished it were that simple, that he could run from this but he knew he couldn't. He could never out-run this. It would always be there.

God, he really hoped it was just sex. He'd get over that eventually…possibly...hopefully. But what if it was the start of something more? What if they started a relationship? He knew he couldn't live with that. He wouldn't be able to see them hugging, touching, kissing…he wouldn't be able to listen to noises through the wall.

More importantly though, he couldn't stand the thought of Joey taking his place as her best friend and confidante. That he'd be the one sharing the everyday cuddles, silly talks and secrets. He'd be the one staying up late to comfort her and share her hopes and dreams. He'd be the one she loved.

No, that he couldn't cope with.

Desperately needing to move, he left the bench and walked a fast pace along the river. He'd have to move if they got together, they'd be no other way. He'd have to cut them out of his life, possibly all of them. Otherwise Ross would constantly update him about how they were getting on, oblivious to his misery. What if he got an invite to their wedding? Was asked to be a Godfather to their first kid?

And if she was happy he'd have no right to say anything. No right to do anything to jeopardize that. She deserved to be happy, to be loved. And so did Joey. He was a good guy and she deserved a good guy. He knew Joey would never hurt her.

Did that make it worse? Knowing that she'd picked a decent man? If it was someone who didn't deserve her, someone that was scum then he could hate them. He'd be justified hating them. But as it was Joey he felt guilty even contemplating hating him.

He quickened his pace, almost brutal as he tried to stop his thoughts tormenting him. Life just wasn't fair. Anyone would have thought he'd had figured that out before this. Any hope was now well and truly crushed. He'd learnt his lesson.

When you were praying that the woman of your dreams is just having sex with your roommate. That this has become the best case scenario...you know life is bad.

More people passed him, oblivious to his nightmare. He scowled at the young couple that were practically humping against a lamppost. He didn't want to picture Monica and Joey doing that. He didn't want to picture their sweaty bodies, contorted faces and groans of pleasure.

Angry, he kicked out at an unsuspecting bin, wincing as the pain shot through his foot. He was glad to have the physical pain to focus on, something stronger than the emotional pain even if it was just temporary.

He leaned back against a railing, drinking some more, needing it to start to take effect.

He needed something to get through the night.

~/End Flashback/~

Present Day:

"Since when have you liked her?" Rachel's voice had a soft sympathetic edge to it, "I'm guessing Joey didn't know? He would never have…got with her if he'd known…"

He swallowed, shaking his head, "no he didn't," Chandler confirmed quietly, "he had no idea. I never told him, or her, and I guess I never will now."

Rachel just stared at him a moment before shaking her head, her hand coming to rest on his arm.

"Honey, you have to speak to them about this."

"Says you," he raised an eyebrow.

"It's a different situation," she sighed, "I'm not telling him to in order for him to marry Emily and then we'll still be friends afterwards. If I say something it will ruin everything and hurt him and I won't be able to stay friends with him. Yours is the other way around. If you don't say anything now, you won't be able to be friends with either of them."

He swallowed, not liking the truth in her statement.

"Maybe," he eventually sighed.

"What have you actually said to them?" she asked, "how have you left it?"

"I've said nothing to either of them," he admitted.

"Nothing?" she questioned surprised. "How's that even possible?"

"I left in a hurry," he muttered sarcastically through gritted teeth, "I didn't really wanna hang around to watch and score them."

"I didn't mean that," she grated, and he reminded himself she was also in pain and didn't need his sarcasm.

"Sorry," he muttered, scrubbing a hand through his already mussed hair. "I, uh, I haven't seen them today."

"Aren't you sharing a room with Joey?" she asked confusion clearly evident on her face.

"I got another room," he admitted with a shrug.

~/flash-back – the night before/~

"Another room?" The snooty night receptionist asked, "now?" She pointedly looked at the large clock on the back wall.

"Yes," he grated, trying not to sway and not even attempting to turn and follow her gaze. He knew it was late, or early, depending how you viewed it, "my roommate will have already gone to sleep and I forgot my keycard," he slurred only slightly. "Look I've got my credit card and just want another room. I'll pay for both."

She studied him again, and he tried to look as pleasant and sober as possible. It worked enough as she only shot him one last suspicious look before consulting the computer.

"There's a wedding on so not many rooms available," she informed him arrogantly.

He resisted the urge to point out his smart suit and make a sarcastic comment; he had 'wedding guest' written all over him. Instead he kept his mouth shut, just needing another room. He couldn't face going back to his. No way, he'd rather go back to walking around the dark London streets.

"We have a Superior King Suite," she informed him with more than a hint of condescension in her posh voice, "it's more expensive than your current twin room."

"That's fine," he cut her off, "I'll take it."

He handed her the credit card and waited for her to hand it back to him with a keycard. She gave him directions but his confused brain barely took them in. Mindlessly he walked in the direction she'd pointed. He passed corridor after bland corridor, following the numbers until he reached a door with a number that matched his keycard.

He entered, flicking on the lights as he numbly took in the room. As the door closed behind him he sat on the corner of the bed. He placed his only luggage on bedside table – whiskey, cigarettes and his wallet. He travelled light.

He collapsed back onto the soft mattress and just stared at the ceiling. It spun slightly but nothing too sickening. At least he had a room to hide in now. He wouldn't sleep, he knew that, he wasn't even sure he was going to try. But at least he was somewhere warm and could take off these stupid shoes.

Kicking them off and taking off his tie he grabbed the tv remote. Collapsing back onto the bed he flicked on the television hoping it would offer some distraction to his troubled mind. He found some random documentary and left it playing. He couldn't take it in though, his mind still frantically processing tonight's events despite his overtired alcohol-fuelled body.

He rolled over and sat up slightly to reach his cigarettes and an empty ashtray. He assumed it was a smoking room but as he lit yet another cigarette he really didn't care. The nicotine had started working and he craved more of it. He craved more drink too. He got up and poured the amber liquid into a clear glass and slumped back onto the bed.

With cigarettes and alcohol who needed friends? Friends. He closed his eyes. She was meant to be more than a friend with him. How did she not know that? How did she not know she was meant to end up with him and be his happy ever after? Over the last few months he'd thought things were starting to change and the little secret looks and touches they exchanged had more meaning to them. He'd started to actually believe that he stood a chance.

God, he felt so stupid. How had he misread things so drastically?

Stubbing out the cigarette he sighed as his thoughts turned to the wedding. What was he going to do tomorrow…he glanced at the clock where it flashed 3.30am…crap, it didn't even count as tomorrow anymore. It was gonna happen today. Could he really face going to the wedding? Face seeing them both? Together? Did he have any choice? It was Ross, he couldn't abandon him. If it was any other type of vacation or event then he'd had left long by now; he had no doubt about that. He'd be standing at the airport, probably on stand-by list as he waited to escape.

In the current reality it wasn't an option.

He couldn't escape.

He had a decision to make.

TBC...

A/N - firstly, thank you for sticking with this one and not hating me too much. I know it's a struggle to read for you diehard Mondler fans. There's a light at the end of the tunnel I promise! Just trust me for a couple more chapters.

I'm hoping to update the angsty chapters fairly quickly and get you all to a 'happy' place before I slow the updates down in order to finish the last couple of chapters.

Thanks so much for the reviews- they are always much appreciated, it's always great to hear what you're thinking...and I agree with most of you- M/J pairing makes me a little sick too, so trust me!

Also, that's it for the flashbacks …we've finished with the wallowing (well mostly) and now have to face the music...