As Chandler stood at the front of the altar he wasn't paying much attention to the ceremony that continued around him. He was starting to feel as awful as he looked; the stress and emotions of the last 24 hours were finally taking its toll on his exhausted body. His head was pounding, his stomach churning, his skin was hot and clammy and he was definitely trembling slightly. He couldn't remember ever feeling so terrible.

To add to it all, he felt like everyone's eyes were on him, intently watching him as he tried to keep it together. It was as if they could see the twisted images that were being played on repeat in his tortured mind. Monica and Joey, Joey and Monica. Taking some deep breaths he tried to ignore the mental pictures; now wasn't the time. He shot a quick look at the congregation, relieved that they weren't all staring at him. Why would they when Ross and Emily were up there on center stage? They were the reason everyone was here; why he was here. No one cared about the emotional wreck of a best man that stood swaying next to the happy couple. He was just for show. He just had to keep upright for a little longer and then everyone would forget all about his existence.

Everyone that is apart from her. He knew she wouldn't let him forget. Chandler could feel Monica's piercing eyes on him, burning into his skull but he stubbornly refused to meet her gaze. Why wouldn't she let up? Surely, she should be staring at her boyfriend, her lover...both of which he wasn't and never would be. He sighed quietly.

The pastor was droning on in his monotone voice, describing just how fantastic it was to find love. Mocking bastard. He wasn't preaching about how painful it was to find love and lose it before it even began.

Chandler could still feel the heavy weight of Monica's gaze and still refused to look over to her. He couldn't face being exposed to her again, he was too vulnerable. He needed to preserve any strength that his weakening body had left in order to face her afterwards.

Afterwards. All his previous adrenaline and efforts this morning had been focused purely on turning up and not letting Ross down. He stupidly hadn't given much thought to what was going to happen next. Idiot.

The ceremony would eventually finish and then he'd have no more protection. He'd have no excuses, no reasons to not talk to her, to not talk to them. He wasn't prepared. He hadn't thought of cover stories for last night to explain his reaction; he hadn't practiced the lies that needed to easily roll off his tongue. He'd be expected to smile at his friends like any normal person would. Expected to congratulate them both on their new found happiness. Expected to listen to Joey talk about just how good she was and listen to Monica excitedly chatter, like she always did when she had a new potential boyfriend.

He'd be expected to pretend that he was thrilled for them whilst trying to hide how utterly crushed he was. How a little part of him had died here in London. God, how was he meant to that? Just standing here being this close to them was already pushing his stretched nerves. He needed a cigarette. Needed something.

He was never very good at lying to her. She knew him too well. Knew when he wasn't telling the truth and that was on a good day. If he was forced to speak to her now he knew he'd have no chance in hell of convincingly lying to her. She'd see through his fumbled attempts of an excuse and recognise the fake smiles for what they were. Empty lies.

She'd want explanations. She'd want to know what he was hiding, where he'd been and what the hell his problem was. And he'd probably tell her. He'd have no defences, no energy and would probably confess to everything; embarrassing them both and destroying their friendship in the process.

He'd ruin everything and he couldn't let that happen.

No, he had to try and buy some time. Maybe, just maybe if he was granted that then he could try to compose himself. He'd have to try to leave before talking to her, it was the only option. If she thought they could talk at the reception she might leave it until then…and by that time he'd be gone. When this stupid ceremony was finished he had to leave undetected. If he could just make it back to the solace of his second hotel room then he'd be safe, invisible again. No one knew it existed and he could use this safe haven to collect his thoughts, collect his dignity and try to strengthen what was left of his bruised heart. To ready it for the next round of pain and misery.

Could he face another round?

If he made it to his room unscathed maybe he could even pack and go onto the airport to try and catch an earlier flight. He was struggling to make it through one hour with them, how the hell was he gonna manage on a six hour flight? One where they would want to sit next to each other, whisper and touch each other. God, what if they went and joined the mile-high club? Then giggled together about it. He felt sick at the thought of being trapped on an airplane with them in their honeymoon stage. Damn, why did Ross have to choose to get married so far away from home?

And even if he did escape home he knew it would only be temporary. She'd come after him. He had no doubt that she'd catch up with him no matter what country he was hiding in and want answers.

Grimacing, he tried to focus his confused mind. To concentrate on the here and now. He had to prepare his overtired body to find one last burst of adrenaline and be prepared to run the second the ceremony finished.

Run. Escape. Retreat.

Despite the blood pumping in his ears, he tuned back into the service and was relieved to hear they were onto their vows. It couldn't go on for much longer, thank God.

"I, Ross, take thee, Rachel."

Oh no. Chandler jerked in shock and in fear looked over to Rachel, seeing her confusion and hope. This really wasn't fair.

As a panicked murmur spread across the wedding guests he kept his eyes on her, trying to offer any strength he could. He saw her hope turn into pain and silent tears when Ross told them it was just a mistake and the wedding should continue. God, this was so cruel on her, so cruel.

The ceremony continued but the 'Rachel' incident still hung heavy in the air. The awkwardness and tension added yet another reason why he wished this would just be over. He kept shooting little looks in Rachel's direction in an attempt to comfort her whilst still avoiding Monica's eyes. They were still on him, he could feel them. Damn it, why wasn't this agonizing ceremony over? It had done its job and entertained the crowd whilst crushing the two friends. He just needed it to be finished. Done with.

Then, finally, it was. He watched the couple share a cringe-worthy kiss as he prepared himself for what was to come next. Escape. Sweet sweet freedom.

"Joey," Chandler croaked quietly, "go look after Ross, ok, he's gonna need back up."

He felt a little guilty abandoning Ross right now. Especially after that. A groom would need his best man, but Chandler knew that Joey could do the job. Once again Joey was a better man for the job. Both Geller's had chosen him.

Chandler closed his eyes as the earlier anguish crashed through him. He couldn't do this now. He just had to concentrate on getting out of here and avoiding her. That's all he had to do.

"Sure," Joey nodded awkwardly, shooting him one last concerned glance before joining the crowd of people leaving.

This was it. Show time. Every exhausted fibre in his body was screaming to just bolt. He'd ignored his natural instincts long enough, now was time to listen and flee. There was a mass of people leaving and he couldn't see where Monica had gone so took his chance. Desperate to get the hell outta there.

Silently sending an apology to Rachel for deserting her, he shot out of one the side doors into the back of the church and escaped through a large taped-off hole. People were congregated all around the outside of the church. Too many people. He swallowed down the claustrophobia, trying to keep his head down and blend with the masses.

There was lots of confusion and shock, people gossiping as they discussed Ross' faux pas. Staggering slightly, he commanded his tired limbs to dodge through the crowds and make it out onto the street beyond. Adrenaline was coursing through his body, his heart pounding as he forced himself to just move, to just get away. He loosened his collar so he could breathe easier. He just needed to walk. He forced himself to fasten his pace, quicker than his already abused body could handle but he didn't care. Showing himself no mercy he made himself take one step after another.

Everything was screaming to just get away from here. To get to safety and then he could collapse and wallow in his misery. Face the bitter reality of the crappy cards he'd been dealt. He could feel the sting of tears as they started to build but he swiped at them angrily. He had to escape before he let the dam, that was barely maintaining his unstable emotions, burst free.

Free. Escape.

"Chandler!"

Damn it, no. He was so close. Head down he kept walking, not slowing his harsh pace.

"Chandler! Stop! Damn it, you know I can't run in these heels."

He paused, wavering, squeezing his eyes shut in defeat. He'd failed. Yet again.

"It's Ross' wedding, Mon," he said, eyes still closed and not turning to face her. "You need to go back, he needs you." He was impressed at how calm his voice sounded, not giving away the emotional turmoil that was threatening to overwhelm him at any moment.

"He can take care of himself," she argued, catching up to where he stood, "it's you that I'm worried about."

He swallowed, hating that she cared so much. It would be so much easier if she didn't.

He remained silent, eyes still shut, breathing heavily.

"Hey," he felt her hand grip his arm, quickly joined by another. "I've been so worried about you, Chandler," she said, her voice breaking under the strain, "I thought something had happened to you."

Something had happened. He'd had his heart-broken, crushed. His life shattered. He felt her fingers dig painfully into his arm before touching his chest, then his face as if assuring herself he was really there.

"Look at me," she begged, "please," and he realized despite everything, he still couldn't deny her anything.

Slowly, he opened his eyes and met hers. The blue pools were dark and intense and full of pain. They were even more intense than they'd been in the church and he was completely powerless to do anything but stand there and let her scrutinize him. His broken heart bare and defenseless.

He had no idea how long they stood like that, how long their eyes were connected, silently communicating and searching for answers.

"God, Chandler," she finally pulled him into a fierce hug.

She clung tightly to him and he stayed rigid in her embrace for just a beat before his arms hesitantly wrapped around her waist. A moment later he gave in, pulling her forcefully against him. He buried his head in her neck. Clinging to her, savoring her, desperate to soak her all in.

As he held her, images of last night started to creep back into his mind. Reality slowly seeping in and mocking him. He was torn, part of him needing this comfort that only she could provide. He'd appreciated Rachel's earlier attempts but it was always Monica that knew how to calm his soul.

The other part of him was screaming he needed to let go. That he was only delaying the inevitable and that it would crush him even more after a moment like this. Every second he continued to cling to her, the harder it would be to let go. And he'd have to let her go. She wasn't his.

Maybe this was a pity hug to soften the blow? To soften the blow of rejecting him before he'd even asked her out. To soften the blow of choosing his roommate over him. Pulling her even tighter, he tried to ignore his thoughts, to keep the harsh reality at bay for just that little bit longer. If this was a pity hug, he was determined to commit every single detail to memory. The feel of her in his arms, her warmth, her smell. God, he would miss her so much, so damn much.

Eventually, they pulled apart, her hands sliding down his arms, still touching him as if she was afraid that if she let go he'd run. Maybe he would if he had the energy. He didn't. The little energy he had found earlier had slowly drained. He was exhausted.

"We need to talk," she said softly, still studying him intently, still holding onto him.

He nodded glumly, avoiding her eyes, knowing and almost accepting his fate, "hotel?"

She nodded and took his hand tightly, still not letting him go. Together they walked slowly in silence looking for a black cab. The only sounds being from Monica's heels as they clipped against the pavement. Thankfully, it didn't take them too long to find what they were looking for.

Monica stated the hotel name to the driver whilst Chandler collapsed in the worn seat. He closed his eyes, resting his head against the window, against the cool glass, trying to block out the bright lights, traffic horns…and her. To try and forget about the conversation to come.

He was very aware of how close she was sitting to him; practically pressed into his side. Even with his eyes shut he could tell she was looking at him, studying him. He could feel it. His head was throbbing and he wished he'd managed to avoid her. He knew he wasn't strong enough for the upcoming conversation, he wondered if he'd ever be strong enough.

The cab stopped and he felt Monica move beside him. Opening his eyes he saw her handing the driver some foreign money before opening the door. She climbed out and turned back to him, reluctantly he followed, his aching muscles protesting and the pounding in his head increasing at the sudden movement.

Wearily, he trailed behind her as she led the way into the hotel, through the posh reception and into the heartless corridors. They rode the elevator in silence, the bright artificial lights cutting through him. As they exited she tried to take a right but he reached out a hand, grabbing her arm lightly. She looked at him questioningly but he just walked wordlessly, knowing she'd follow. She did.

After a few memorized turns they stood outside his second room.

His safe haven was about to be exposed but at least they wouldn't get disturbed here.

He could have the most painful conversation of his life away from prying eyes. Hopefully, afterwards, she'd allow him the dignity of grieving in private.

Silently, he fumbled in his pocket for his room key and pushed opened the door and walked inside.

"So, this is where you were last night?" she asked quietly as she took a few hesitant steps into the room.

He nodded, grimacing at the pain it caused. He decided not to point out he hadn't gotten this room until the early hours of this morning. He watched as she took in the used ash trays, the empty cigarette packets and the empty drink bottle that lined the hotel surfaces; he was grateful she didn't comment.

Her eyes then fell on his suitcase and she blinked, "when did you…?"

"I, uh, grabbed it when you guys were at the wedding breakfast," he sighed, he didn't have the energy or capacity for small talk. He felt awful.

The blind was still shut from this morning, which blocked out most of the unwanted sun. He was grateful that he'd left the window open, bringing a touch of fresh air into the otherwise stale and smoky room. He kicked off his shoes and collapsed onto the large unmade bed.

His exhaustion was starting to override his previous adrenaline. He lay down, closing his eyes and wincing as world tilted and the knives in his head got sharper. His tired mind and body was desperate to shut down and be put out of its misery. He started to crave the innocence of peaceful slumber, a brief interlude from the gritty reality.

He could feel her eyes on him but he couldn't bring himself to care. He just needed this for a few moments. He just needed a bit of time to rest and to think. To try and compose himself and gather his thoughts. To -

"Nothing happened with Joey."

That cut through the fog in his mind, his confused eyes snapped open to meet hers.

TBC…

A/N- thanks for all the reviews. It's great to hear that so many of you are enjoying this...