Chapter 1: Can I Survive This Overbearing?

The jolt from the balmy heat of a late spring day to the freezing air conditioning in the vast church atrium bit into Chandler's skin, but it didn't once halt the stride of his sprint. He couldn't stop – not for anything. It may already be too late….

Slamming his palms into the oaken double doors leading into the chapel, he threw them open, charging down the aisle at top speed, though to him it felt like slow motion. As if he was moving through molasses.

Ahead of him, he could see her, his beloved Monica, standing in a white dress, the one she had shown him and he had falsely declared she looked hideous in, just to agree with her assessment about taking the garment back. Yet, now here she stood, in that same dress, about to marry another man.

"I OBJECT!..."

The annoying whine of an alarm clock cut through the nightmare sharply, yanking Chandler back into the waking world. Sitting up with a groan and a pounding headache, the young man rubbed at his temple, as he slowly gathered his bearings and it began to dawn on him that it had just been a dream.

With a groan, he slammed his open palm down on the alarm clock, shutting it off. Almost immediately, however, the noise was replaced by that of music, wafting in from the direction of the shared bathroom. Chandler's gaze tracked to where an extension cord was running from the nearest wall socket and through the sliver in the all-but-closed bathroom door. Strains of operatic chords now mixed in with the sound of the shower water running.

Then, his roommate's…. decent singing voice, decent enough to get by, now joined the chorus.

With another growl, Chandler stomped for the bathroom door and pounded on it. "JOEY! Will you turn that disgusting crap off?!"

"It's Gilbert and Sullivan! Can't beat the classics, man!" Joey hollered back. Immediately following, he launched into his music cue: "Can I survive this overbearing? Or live a life of mad despairing? My proffered love despised, rejected? – No, no, it's not to be ex-pec-ted!" Unfortunately, Joey had to take the high note that was on the syllable 'pec', and painfully cracked for his trouble.

Chandler fumed a breath out through his nose and shook his head, stomping over to where he had laid out his suit on a chair the night before.

The tux ensemble stared back at him, almost mockingly, and he shook his head at it in disgust, as if it was somehow the garment's fault for all that had gone wrong, and for all the horror that was awaiting him today. As if Joey's pathetic excuse at a tenor range for his opera gig (in which he was the lead, and for which he had been practicing for over the past month) wasn't horror enough.

If only Chandler's nightmare had been all that it was. Of course, his greatest fear was now going to come to life today in grotesque and traumatizing clarity.

And he was being made to watch it all.

Joey was singing again, and Chandler wanted to curse Gilbert and Sullivan, for having the temerity to write an opera some 120-something years ago that now seemed to act as the soundtrack to his own, sorry life.

"The maiden treats my suit with scorn, rejects my humble gift, my lady! She says I am ignobly born, and sets my heart adrift, my lady!"

Chandler snorted bitterly, ruefully, for alas, truer words had never been spoken – er, sung. Certainly, they had never applied so well than to this moment, his own personal living hell, to the point that he found himself singing along to the next ensemble track: "Oh, cruel one! Oh, cruel one!"

Joey was silent on the next part, as the CD player now began singing the part of some guy who apparently was written in the show as decrepit and having only one eye. Chandler tried to conjure the character in his mind, and smiled with just enough satisfaction at how his rendering had, just for effect, given the piece of shit a mustache.

"She spurns your suit – oh, ho! Oh, ho! I told you so! I told you so!..."

The chorus came in, Joey singing along. Huffing, Chandler took his own sweet time pulling his white dress shirt over his head. His hands were shaking as he affixed the buttons, and for just a moment, he attempted to pretend that his terror was for an entirely different reason.

For just a moment, he tried to pretend that he was the one getting married today.

The Finale of Act I of HMS Pin-Up or whatever the fuck it was called now suddenly changed abruptly, and a patter song ensued:

"Thank you all for the gifts and the flowers, thank you all, now it's back to the showers, Don't tell Paul cause I'm not getting married today….!"

Chandler stomped back to the bathroom door and thwaped it. "DAMNIT, Joey, I don't need you to change my life into a musical!"

The patter song abruptly cut off, and the door opened, steam wafting out to reveal Joey, wrapped in a towel from the waist down. The struggling actor grinned at his roommate sheepishly. "Whoops. Sorry, dude. Bumped my hand on the CD changer when I was getting out."

Chandler frowned, folding his arms, before glancing past Joey's shoulder and into the bathroom.

It still had her wallpaper on it.

"Just…. keep the place clean, OK? It was…."

Joey froze, nodding with something that could only be pity in his eyes. Chandler had never wanted to punch his good friend harder in his life. "I know, man."

Growling, Chandler turned back to the rest of his tuxedo ensemble and began to throw it on angrily, almost roughly. Behind him, he could feel Joey hovering, as if afraid his roommate was glass and would shatter if he touched him or even so much as spoke.

"You don't have to go. Jesus, bro, can you even handle it?"

Chandler froze where he was looping his cummerbund. "Yes," he lied.

"Sure, OK, but….. Chandler…."

"Look, she's always wanted her dream wedding, and part of that dream was having all her friends, all the people that she…." His voice caught, and now he wanted to punch himself. Then again, what else was new? "….. loved….. there."

"Yeah, but I didn't think she envisioned having one of her friends in particular sitting in one of the pews," Joey pointed out delicately. "Up until fairly recently, she had one of her friends positioned in a very different…."

"Joey?" Chandler ground out, his teeth set on edge. "That was then. Now shut – up…."

Joey gulped and nodded, sliding past Chandler and out into the hallway.

Chandler set to work on his tie.

A year ago. To think where he had been, a year ago! On the precipice of everything that he had never thought in his wildest dreams would happen….

…. Only for it to backslide into his worst nightmare.

He had had the ring box in his hands. In his hands. But, of course, he had to gravitate towards a plan that was fucking stupid and try to surprise her, by misdirecting her into believing….. He shook his head, the tears pooling, hot and angry.

And then….. he had shown up. Must have swooped in with his smooth talk and gotten to her right when she was most vulnerable. When she still didn't know the full story.

Next thing he knew, Monica had packed her bags and left Apartment 20, where they had been living in what Chandler thought had been bliss for a year – technically two, because he had been practically spending all his free time over at her place ever since London….

Joey, ever the loyal friend, had leapt to the rescue where he could, moving in across the hall from Apartment 19, which Phoebe and Rachel had then filled so Joey wouldn't lose the place. At the time, everybody, Chandler most of all, had been convinced that Monica would come back.

But she hadn't come back. Monica had moved in with fucking Richard, and now….

…. After a whirlwind engagement, they were getting married. At about the same time that Chandler liked to think he and Monica should have been getting married, if he hadn't fucked everything up.

What had Richard told her? Had he promised her marriage, and kids? Had he dangled her dearest wish, in the form of becoming a mother, to lure her away from Chandler? Had Richard gone back on his own preferences because that's what it would take to steal Monica out from under…..?

In the time they'd been together, Chandler had worked through his commitment issues and the thoughts of why marriage scared him. He and Monica had never gotten as far enough as to discuss kids beyond the broadest brushstrokes, though some things hadn't needed to be said. Monica's lifelong dream was to have a baby. Chandler….. well, he had his reservations about being a father, but for Monica, he would have tossed aside any ambivalent feelings he had about children and given her one because he loved her.

Not because it was him saying what she wanted to hear. Saying whatever he had to in order to win her, the way Richard surely had.

He was lifted out of his musings by Joey banging on the door. "Hurry up, bro! Ross is here!"

Ross…. As if Chandler needed another reminder of the woman he had loved and lost, in the form of the brother of the bride. He finished securing his tie, half-wishing it was a noose long enough with which to hang himself. Lord knew he'd rather do that than go through with today.

He stepped out into the living area of Apartment 20 to find Ross wincing at him with what was clearly his best attempt at sympathy. Actually, as far as Ross went, the concern seemed sincere.

"Are you sure you want to…..?"

"I swear, the next person who asks me that is going to get whipped by my cummerbund," Chandler threatened darkly, blue eyes flashing. Ross awkwardly cleared his throat and let it drop.

"Limo's waiting downstairs."

The car ride over to the church was excruciating. Chandler was relieved that this wedding wasn't happening at the venue he had secretly staked out upon Phoebe's recommendation, about this time a year ago. That would have been sticking the knife in – for Monica to marry another man in the venue he, Chandler, had picked out for them. Himself and her. Picked out from the silly little pink book she had carried around since childhood.

Chandler exited the limo first, attempting to stride up the steps to the chapel, even as his legs felt like lead. He could hear Ross and Joey whispering behind him, and he was just about to turn around and yell at them both to knock it off when….

…. He reached eye-level with the double oaken doors of the church, and got tunnel vision.

He felt dizzy. Nauseous. His breath was coming in shallow gasps, and he realized he was on the verge, if not already in the early stages, of a panic attack. He turned, barely managing to stand upright, and lunged to run back down the steps, only to slam into fleshy bodies as Ross and Joey held him back.

"Chandler…. CHANDLER!" Ross was clearly shouting at him, but it sounded from far away, Chandler's ears were ringing so. He tried to take in steady gulps of air.

"….. I can't do this…."

Joey, scared, glanced to Ross pleadingly, imploringly. "He's right, man. No one should be made to go through this…."

"If he ever cared about my sister at all, he will," Ross countered.

"For fuck's sake, Ross – look at him! He can't even stand up! He looks like he's going to be sick!" Now Joey was shouting.

"Chandler!" Ross clapped his best friend on the shoulder, steering him into the stone just off the front doors. "Don't let your personal feelings get in the way!" When the other man's head lolled, refusing to look at him, Ross shook him. "Think about Monica! What would she do, if she were in your position?"

Chandler snapped his head up, teeth bared and he growled. How dare he! "I would never put her in this position!"

"Just suppose!"

Chandler lied through his set teeth. "She would let me go." At least, he hoped it was a lie. After everything that had come crashing down, he wasn't sure if he was buying his own bullshit anymore.

Ross let Chandler go. The three men strode into the church's entryway. Rachel came dashing up to Ross, embracing him and the pair spoke in low tones quietly. More than once, Chandler caught the blonde's eyes darting back towards him with caring fear. Joey was nearly on top of him, behind him, and Chandler hadn't the energy to make even a sarcastic quip, about the struggling actor being in his light.

"When the priest gets to the part about speak now or forever hold your peace, stand up."

"What?" Chandler turned back to gape at Joey's quiet whispering.

"Do it!" Joey encouraged. "Just wait to make your move, and then say, 'I Object!'"

"And what good would that do?" Chandler bemoaned.

"Maybe it'll stop something that all of us – even Ross – knows is wrong." Joey eyed Chandler hard, eyes soaked with meaning.

Chandler stared at him for a long moment. Then: "…. I can't….."

"What?!" Joey gawked. "Why?!"

Chandler studied him helplessly. "…. Because…. I love her….."

The group of friends entered the chapel. Rachel and Phoebe went ahead first, as the bridesmaids. Ross darted as inconspicuously as he could up to the altar, to stand at the side of the usurper. Joey and Chandler took a place in one of the front pews.

Chandler couldn't take his eyes off her.

She looked breathtaking. When her eyes scanned and met his, his heart howled at how she smiled at him. Was it fake? Was it all a masquerade behind the sparkling in her eyes? Chandler liked to think so, even as he knew it was hoping for too much.

He squirmed in his seat throughout much of the opening of the ceremony. He could feel Joey watching him with interest and even breathless anticipation, as if hoping that the fidgeting would crescendo up to exactly the right moment, when….

"…. Speak now, or forever hold his peace…."

Chandler could sense Joey boring a hole into his skull. 'Do it!' Joey mouthed. 'Say it!'

Chandler didn't.

The priest pronounced Richard and Monica husband and wife. Richard lifted Monica's veil.

That's when Chandler turned and ran. He would not, could not, watch her kiss that mustachioed fucker! He wouldn't! He refused.

He felt, heard, feet pounding after him. Voices calling his name. "Chandler!... CHANDLER BING!"

He threw open the double doors and burst out into the sunlight, howling as a couple of flash camera bulbs split the air and well-wishers waiting outside lifted their voices to cheer, only for it to die out like a leaky balloon. Eyes darting about, trapped like a wounded animal, Chandler flew down the steps and hit the sidewalk, making a beeline for the bushes.

He barely made it to the hedge groves before he was throwing up; some of it landed on his damn cummerbund. The urping very quickly gave way to dry heaving, making his eyes water, and a kind of whine that may have been on the cusp of a sob was torn from his throat along with the bile as he felt Ross and then Joey slam into him from behind.

Joey set about gently rubbing his back. "Breathe, man! Just breathe…."

"Get down!" Ross hissed.

Picking Chandler up between them, all three men hurled themselves into the bushes. Cheers could now be heard splitting the air, signaling how the happy couple had appeared outside the church.

Chandler couldn't resist. He had to see her, just one more time. Fighting Ross and Joey off, he stood up in the bushes, and caught sight of her lovely face.

Monica glanced in his direction. Their eyes met. She clearly saw the pain reflected in his, and Chandler's throat clawed to yell out her name.

The sob finally flew free, followed by another bout of dry heaving as Ross and Joey finally wrestled Chandler back down into the hedge.

What he didn't see was how a heart-shattered Monica lurched forward to run to him, only for Richard to take her arm and lead her to the limousine.