A/N: Trigger warning for rape scene, but it is short and non-descriptive.

CHANDLER

Yesterday was… blurry. Chandler could barely piece the memories together. His friends told him that he ran a fever and nearly passed out. He could almost picture it, but in the way where you're not quite sure if it was a dream or real life.

Chandler sat in the coffee shop beside Phoebe and Joey. All the others were at work, but Chandler had called out. He held his coffee mug in both hands and sipped. He ordered a shot of espresso to counteract his exhaustion, but cringed at the taste.

"Maybe you should go to the doctor," Phoebe told him.

"I'm okay. Yesterday was a fluke," Chandler said. He knew that it wasn't true. This was a warning sign that the ANDD was coming back, but that was exactly what kept him from going. He wasn't ready for the news that he was sick again and that maybe, this time, no medication would help. He would die from it.

"We can go with you," Joey volunteered.

"Seriously, guys. I'm not dying."

They both looked at him like he certainly was dying.

"If you keep looking at me like that, I'll write you both out of my will."

"I don't want a dead person's stuff anyways," Phoebe snarked.

"Okay, I'll will you something and then haunt you."

"That's better," Phoebe decided. Joey looked sullen.

They chatted about Phoebe's most recent client and a guy she was starting to see until it was late enough to go home. Chandler and Joey meandered to the apartment. Since things with James ended, he didn't feel stalked anymore. He had gotten used to it, like being watched over, and felt strangely lonely without it. He figured you could get used to anything.

Chandler departed to his room and climbed onto the balcony. He held his phone in his hands and stared at it like it could give him the answers he was looking for. Finally, he dialed the number.

It rang three times and he was sure James wouldn't pick up when he finally answered.

"Hi, Chan."

"Hey," Chandler replied in a heavy tone.

"Are you okay?"

"I think I'm getting sick again."

"Do you want to come over?"

"Yeah, but I have to wait till Joey goes to sleep."

"Why?" James sounded irritated.

"I don't want to answer questions right now. I'm tired."

"Okay. I'll leave the door open."

"Don't do that. You'll get murdered."

"I'll see you soon."

Chandler waited impatiently for Joey to sleep. He stayed up until eleven watching reruns of Baywatch when he finally passed out. Chandler pulled on a coat and glanced at Joey one last time. Drool dribbled down his chin and he let out small snores that Chandler found inconceivably charming

He took a cab to James's. He was going to go broke with all the cabs he took lately. Maybe he should buy a car, but it was pointless in NYC. You could take the subway anywhere, but Chandler almost never did. He thought it was creepy, an ironic thought from the man on the way to see his stalker.

James answered the door with an affectionate smile. This time, Chandler didn't push him up against a wall and gruffly kiss him, but walked to the bed and sat down.

James settled beside him and rubbed his back. "You'll be okay," James promised.

"I don't know."

"Look at me," James said. Chandler faced him with sorrowful eyes. James touched a finger under his chin and kissed him. Chandler allowed it, at first only obliging, and then closing his eyes and kissing him meaningfully.

Chandler pulled away. "I'm sorry for being such a jerk. I was mad because you were following me, but you just cared."

"I missed you."

Chandler hesitated. "I missed you too."

He liked the way James made him feel — desired, coveted, worth something. Still, he was ashamed of him. It was more than his awkward appearance. His friends all brought around cringe-worthy significant others before, but there was something about James he needed to keep hidden.

They kissed again as James unbuttoned his shirt. He was too fragile to make any of the first moves so he allowed James to undress them both. His hands worked slowly and gently. Chandler could feel the ghost of the sting on his cheek from where James slapped him. He didn't blame him. Chandler jerked him around with the expectation that he would never receive backlash. You couldn't treat a person that way.

When James laid him back on the bed, Chandler wondered, "Is this a good idea?" considering his illness and the complicated feelings between them he had yet to sort out.

"Yes," James murmured in his ear, "Relax."

He wanted to do something to take away the stress. He made a lot of poor decisions it seemed, so this one did not particularly stand out, but even as James began to touch him, he didn't get aroused. There was too much on his mind. "Sorry," he muttered.

"It's fine," James said, unconcerned. He reached over the side of the bed and searched on the floor until he came back with a bottle of lube.

"I'm not really feeling it."

"Turn around," James instructed.

"I don't…" he began to argue, but when he saw the undeterred look on James's face, he gave up. It didn't matter either way. Chandler acquiesced.

James clasped Chandler's waist tightly. He once seemed thin and weak, but since Chandler's physical deterioration, his hands were crushing. He wondered if there would be a bruise there tomorrow.

He tried to take his mind elsewhere for the duration of it. He formed a grocery list in his head, but it was nearly impossible to fully concentrate.

When it was over, James kissed the back of Chandler's neck and he shivered.

"That was incredible," James cooed.

Chandler was unsure how to feel. There was a looming feeling of wrongness about the whole situation.

###

Chandler looked around him. He was at home, sitting at the counter with a beer in his hand. The room was filled with the harmonious light of the setting sun. He turned around and saw Joey on the couch.

Chandler swallowed hard. "Hey."

Joey twisted in his chair. "Hey?"

They must have been together for quite some time. "What day is it?"

Joey raised an eyebrow. "Wednesday."

Fuck. Two days passed without Chandler remembering.

"Wait, no. Tuesday? I'm not sure."

Chandler rolled his eyes. "Lot of help. Thanks, Joe."

"I tried!" Joey protested.

Chandler ran a hand through his hair and went to search the fridge. They had a box of PBRs. Disgusting, but it would do the job. He grabbed one and chugged it, then followed it with a second. Joey had already returned his focus to the TV.

At least from Joey's reaction, it seemed like Chandler was behaving normally. Normal enough for Joey not to notice something was off. He would have to investigate with the others to see if they noticed his mental lapse of awareness. "I'm going to Mon's," he announced to Joey, who waved lazily without looking back.

Chandler licked his lips as he crossed the hall to Monica's. They were dry and chapped. He took an inventory of himself. He didn't have shivers, he wasn't running a fever, and his brain wasn't in a fog.

"Hi!" Monica greeted him cheerily as he walked in. She was molding cookies on the kitchen counter and exuding a frantic energy.

"Heya, Mon. How's it going?"

"Finishing up this order for my mom. They're perfect. There's no way she can complain about them."

"Yeah," Chandler replied because he didn't know how to break it to her that her mom would complain about anything she did, "Uh, have I been acting weird recently?"

"Not any weirder than usual. Why?"

"No reason."

She was preoccupied enough with her cookies that she didn't pursue the peculiar question.

"Do you have any wine?" he asked.

She gestured to a cupboard. "I think we have some red up there."

"Thanks."

"Can you pour me some too?"

"But you seem so relaxed already."

She shot him a glare and he smiled, retrieving the bottle and two glasses. He filled both cups and handed her one. She downed it, which Chandler appreciated because it meant she wouldn't judge him for doing the same.

"You think Joey's okay?" Monica asked.

"Uh, why wouldn't he be?"

"The audition," she said like it was obvious.

"Right, yeah, the audition," it must have gone badly. Poor Joey, chronically passed over. He poured himself a second glass of wine and sat at the table, watching Monica as she feverishly worked. "When's the party?" he threw out a guess. He had no clue what she was preparing for.

"Tomorrow. I still have to make tiramisu and fruitcake."

"That's a lot," he sipped his wine.

"Yes, thanks for pointing that out."

The more effort she put into it, the worse the inevitable rejection would be. "Don't you work tomorrow?"

"You know I don't work on Tuesdays."

"Tuesday?" That was impossible — today couldn't be Monday because it was Monday when he went to see James. Unless…

He blacked out for an entire week. "Holy shit," Chandler whispered.

"What did you say?" Monica asked.

"Nothing. I have to go. I'll see you later," he said and quickly hurried out of the room without waiting for a goodbye. He ran into his apartment, slowing down as he passed Joey, and then slammed his door behind him. He pressed his back against the wall and held out his hands, staring down at his open palms. "What the fuck?" he suddenly couldn't get in enough air. He tried to gulp in oxygen, but he was unable to fill his lungs. He knew this feeling well: a panic attack. He hadn't had one in years, but the feeling was unforgettable.

He wanted Joey. It was the first person who came to mind. He wanted to walk out the door and stand in front of Joey, his chest heaving for air, and have him jump up, panic on his face, and wrap him in his arms. But he couldn't do that, because Joey would ask why he was like this and he wasn't prepared to answer. His friends saw him freak out before, but it was different now. He was weak and vulnerable and he couldn't stand for them to see him this broken.

Chandler climbed onto the balcony and tried to breathe in the fresh air, but New York was smoggy and polluted. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed James's number. It only rang once before he picked up.

"Hi, Chan. What's up?"

Chandler panted. "I'm having an anxiety attack," he managed between desperate heaves.

"It's alright, Chandler. Breath with me, okay? In, two, three, four, hold it, two, three four, out, two, three, four."

He didn't find James's voice soothing and he fought to not think about Joey, but he followed the pattern until he could breathe again.

"Better?" James asked.

"A little. Still anxious."

"Well, I'm not magic."
Granted, Chandler's constant state of being was anxious. He rubbed his eyes. "I want a cigarette."
"No cigarettes. They're bad for you."

"What isn't?"
"I'm serious. Don't buy any," James's voice transformed from consoling to dangerous.

"I wasn't going to."

"Good."

"I need to get out of here. Can I come over?"
"Always."

Chandler was covered in sweat so he decided to change before heading out. He took off his sweater vest and button-up and placed them in the laundry basket. When he turned to sift through his drawers, something caught his eye. There were purple splotches on his chest and stomach, massive bruises. He raised a hand to them and delicately poked one, immediately hissing at the pain.

"Where did that come from?" what could he have gotten up to in the last week?

He dressed in fresh clothes and left the room, nearly tripping on his way out.

"You okay?" Joey watched him.

"Yeah, yeah," he was starting to feel the effects of the alcohol.

"Are you drunk?"

"No, I'm good," he tried to keep his voice from slurring.

Joey gave him an accusatory glare. "Where are you going?"

"Out," he hadn't thought to come up with a lie.

"All week you've been going 'out.' Why won't you tell me what you're doing?"

"I have?"

The words seemed to catch Joey off guard and his scowl faded. "Do you not remember?"

"No, I- um," Chandler wracked his brain for an answer.

"Will you stay in tonight? Please."

The gentle plea in Joey's voice ached Chandler's heart. He nodded and walked back to the living room, settling in the chair beside Joey. "Okay."

"How 'bout we get you some water?" he stood and went to the kitchen to fill a cup with tap water, returning to Chandler and slowly passing it to him. It was tender and kind. Joey was looking out for him like he always did.

"Is it that obvious?" Chandler asked.

"Huh?"

"That I'm drunk."

"Nah, I just know you."

Joey was clueless as to how the words hit Chandler. "You should drink with me."
Joey raised his eyebrows, then pondered the idea. "I could always use a beer."

Chandler grinned. "Awesome. I hate being an idiot alone. I mean-" he stopped himself from saying something about usually being an idiot, but not always a drunk one. Why do you always say stuff like that? That's my friend you're talking about. Joey's words rang through his mind.

"I've got you covered," Joey retrieved a PBR from the fridge, throwing his head back, and chugging half the can. A drop ran down his chin and he followed it with a contented, "Ahhh."

Chandler looked away. Why was that erotic? He shouldn't be thinking about Joey like that.

"I can't chug anything. I'll throw it up right away," Chandler said.

"I know. I was with you on Halloween last year."
Chandler laughed. "I forgot about that."

"I'm surprised you didn't forget the whole night. You were tanked."

"You're allowed to get wasted on Halloween. It's tradition. My parents always did. My dad would drink a bunch of fruity drinks then get dressed up in women's clothes. That actually might have been a sign."

Joey snorted. "My parents would get drunk and pass out then me and my brothers would stay up and watch scary movies."

"Ooh, we should watch Halloween."

"Hell yeah," Joey finished off the last of the beer and grabbed another, "I gotta catch up with you."

"Bring the rest over here," Chandler began searching through their VHS tapes until he found it, "What are the chances we rewound this."

"Not great."
"Not great," Chandler agreed, amused.

Joey returned to the living room and put the beers between their two chairs.

"I must have seen this like a thousand times," Chandler said.
"Me too. After this we could watch Scream."

"Movie marathon?"

"Hell yeah!"

Chandler couldn't think of a better distraction. He climbed back in his chair.

"Don't get scared," Joey teased.

"If I do, I'll jump in your lap," Chandler flushed. He did not mean to say that, but the liquor gave him loose lips.

"I dare you," Joey replied.

Was this flirting? Joey was completely unfazed by Chandler's response. He racked his brain for a retort, but the best he could come up with was, "I'm too heavy for you."

"Pfft. I could lift you easy."

"No way."

Joey grinned and stood, approaching Chandler.

"What are you doing?" Chandler laughed and squeezed back in his chair.

"C'mere," he reached for Chandler who playfully pushed him away. Joey grabbed under his shoulders and knees and lifted him. Chandler burst out laughing, his face hot.

"See?" he mimicked weight lifting with Chandler's body, "I could bench you."

Chandler loved this, being in Joey's arms. He fit there perfectly. It was cozy and warm and if he nuzzled in, he could easily fall asleep. "You're super strong, I get it."

"That's right," Joey said proudly.

Chandler took in his face, the five o'clock shadow, the gleaming chestnut eyes, the way his cheeks were pink against his perfect tan skin. Neither could stop giggling. "Alright, put me down," Chandler ordered because, Christ, if he looked at Joey this close for another second, he was going to lose it.

Joey put him back in the chair and grinned. "Told you."

"Put on the stupid movie, will you?" Chandler's heart was about to break through his chest.

"Don't be jealous," Joey replied and put in the tape.

They watched together. Joey drank half the beers by the time the movie ended and Chandler figured he must be at least tipsy by now.

"Scream?" Chandler asked.

"What?"

"The movie. Do you still wanna watch?"

"Oh yeah."

"I put it there," Chandler gestured to the carpet next to Joey's chair.

"Cool," Joey said, but didn't yet reach for the box.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah… Have you been feeling alright lately?"

Chandler frowned. "Why do you ask?"

"You seem off."

"Off how?" he should deflect, but he was curious to learn about his behavior during his memory lapses.

"Like not yourself. You act kind of serious now. We don't joke around a lot."

"Right," he wasn't sure if it was more comforting to know he took a dispassionate demeanor during these intervals or if he would prefer to have been entirely himself with no indication of illness, "I guess I've been preoccupied with work," he felt despicable for lying to his best friend.

"Really? 'Cause I was worried…"

He didn't need to finish the thought. "No, I'm fine. I worry enough for everyone combined. Don't you start."

"Okay," Joey relaxed.

The immense guilt hit Chandler like a tidal wave. He needed to come clean and tell Joey, but he could barely accept it himself. Right now, he would enjoy this moment of peace before reality disintegrated any semblance of normalcy.

JOEY

Chandler was different recently. He went out at night and wouldn't tell Joey where, he was distant and joked less, and he would often get a faraway look in his eye and zone out until someone snapped him back into reality. Joey wasn't sure what to make of it. He tried to talk to the others, but they had no theories and hardly seemed to care. It frustrated him that no one else caught on.

Chandler's fever stuck out in his mind. The abruptness of his illness and how they barely spoke about it again troubled him.

And then there was the kiss. Chandler kissed him. It was torture trying to decode what it meant. Chandler was out of his mind. It could have been anyone tending to him in that bathroom that he would have kissed.

But what if that weren't the case? What if Chandler kissed him because he was Joey and there was more between them than either cared to admit? The past week it had taken all his mental efforts to resist shouting, "You kissed me! Why did you kiss me?" It was only Chandler's uncharacteristic behavior that managed to keep him from blowing everything up.

"Jessica's coming over," Joey announced in Monica's apartment.

The group collectively groaned. Jessica was the girl he started seeing most recently. She was a model and she always dressed like it, high heels, short skirts, perfect makeup. The girls found it intimidating. Ross thought it was exasperating, constantly seeing a beautiful woman he could never have, but Chandler was the only one completely unfazed by her.

"Be nice," Joey scolded, "Chandler likes her," he didn't know why he said it. Maybe testing the waters.

"She's okay," Chandler said.

"I don't understand why she gets dressed up for everything. She wore a Gucci dress for thrift-shopping," Monica complained.

"I don't see what the big deal is," Joey said.

"Is it cold in here?" Chandler asked.

They had just finished eating. It was a warm spring night and heat trickled into the apartment. "No?" Rachel regarded him suspiciously.

Chandler jumped up from the couch. "I have to go," he said as he was already running out the door. They all watched the door slam behind him.

"That was… weird," Ross said.

"I told you guys, he's been different lately."

"Maybe he got food poisoning," Phoebe speculated.

"From my food?" Monica asked sharply.

"I'm going to check on him," Joey said, uninterested in the trifling squabble. He walked briskly back to their apartment. "Chandler?" he was nowhere to be seen. Joey noticed a light coming from under the bedroom door. He lightly knocked, but when no one answered, he pushed through anyway.

Chandler was a lump beneath the covers. He had a pillow over his head and was curled into a ball. "Chan?" Joey said gently. Chandler didn't move, but Joey noticed that he was shaking beneath the blankets. He stepped closer to the bed to observe his friend.

"Go away," Chandler squeaked, his voice close to inaudible.

"I'm not going. You're scaring me," he sat beside Chandler on the bed and slowly removed the pillow from over his head. He could see that Chandler was shivering violently now. He kept his eyes shut tight and flinched when Joey reached out a delicate hand and placed it on his forehead. "You're freezing."

"It's cold," Chandler said quietly. The lie was pointless, but obligatory.

"I think you're getting sick," Joey told him. He hated to be so blunt, but he couldn't dance around it anymore. He needed to knock some sense into his friend. "I'm taking you to the doctor tomorrow."

When Chandler didn't reply, Joey lifted the covers and slid under them. He wrapped his arms around Chandler and pulled him close. Chandler rested his head against Joey's chest and then nestled in closer. "What are you thinking?" Joey asked.

"I'm scared," he whispered.

"I know," Joey ran a hand through his hair, "I'll be there with you though," Chandler nodded in his arms.

###

Chandler could barely look at Joey. He insisted they didn't tell the others about what was happening. Joey didn't know when he got ashamed of vulnerability. He used to loudly complain about the worst things happening in his life, and now he was hiding his struggles from Joey.

"I'm so tired," Chandler said as they waited in the exam room for the doctor to appear. A nurse had already come in and interrogated him about the specifics of his illness. Hearing it all laid out only solidified in Joey's mind what he already knew: Chandler was severely unwell.

It felt like hours until the doctor came in. Chandler chose to sit in the chair beside Joey rather than the table and Joey had to resist reaching out and squeezing his leg to let him know he was wasn't alone

"Hello, Mr. Bing," the doctor said as he adjusted his glasses.

"Hey," Chandler replied flatly.

"It's been a few weeks since we last saw you."

"Two months," Chandler supplied.

"And your symptoms have not subsided."

"They did for a while, but they started to come back. It's like not even being medicated," Chandler spoke somberly, no humor or attitude to his voice. Joey found it disconcerting.

"How long ago was that?"

"Two, three weeks. I ran a fever and then I blacked out for a week."

"For a week?" Joey was astonished.

Chandler stared at his feet. "Yeah."

"What kept you from coming in?" the doctor asked.

"What's the point? There's nothing else you can prescribe."

"You are right that the medications I've prescribed are the only two classes widely known to treat this. Anything else I could prescribe you would essentially function the same way and since you are no longer responding to the base chemical compound, it's not likely you would respond to those either."

Joey's stomach dropped.

"But there is an experimental drug currently being tried out. I should be able to get you into the study. There have been successful cases that alleviated symptoms, but we still don't know the repercussions or the long-term outcomes.

"On the other hand, we could try different versions of the medications you were already prescribed. There is a possibility you might respond to one."

"What are the chances?" Chandler's voice was strangled.

"Unfortunately, not high."

Chandler couldn't meet the doctor's eyes. There was anguish written across his face that he tried to keep down. It killed Joey to see him like this.

"And the study? You could get me in?"

"Yes, I believe so."

"Is it dangerous?"

"As of right now, we haven't seen any majorly negative responses, but not every patient has responded to the treatment."

Chandler swallowed. "Okay. I want to try it."

"I'll call in the prescription."

There wasn't much to say after that. The doctor didn't further inquire about Chandler's current state. He already knew what it meant when Chandler said the meds stopped working. Joey wordlessly followed Chandler outside, unable to produce anything substantially comforting. It wasn't fair to say he was as scared as Chandler, but truthfully, he was terrified. He needed Chandler to be okay.

Joey walked to the edge of the sidewalk and was about to flag down a taxi when Chandler put a hand on his arm. "I think I need to go for a walk."

"Sure."

"By myself."

"Oh," it didn't seem right for Chandler to be alone right now. He was isolating, making himself feel more alone when his friends were all right there for him, but Joey wouldn't argue when he was like this. "Come home soon."

"I will."

Joey took a deep breath and tried not to imagine Chandler stepping in front of a car. "I'll be there whenever you're ready."

Chandler looked sadly at him. "Thank you," the words were loaded.

"Be careful."

"Okay."