And I adore this chapter...not because I have a big head or anything, but I just really like it! Probably my fave ending that I have ever written! Probably cause I was able to fit in so many of thethings from the previous chapters (the paintings,stand, climb, fall, Utopia, etc)So, yeah, yet another story ended! I'm going good! Sniff...I love and hate ending stories...there is that wonderful sense of satisfaction, but there is also that sad feeling...but oh well! Just like to thank you all for your reviews, they helped me get through this hard, hard, HARD story! So thankyou...oh, and as to who Chandler ended up with...well, you can make up your own mind! Personally, I know who I would get together if I continued it, and Leondra, you would have gotten your wish hehe. But I wont be doing that...okay, why am I still talking! Please read and review, and thankyou so much! Love you all!

I do not own friends/ actors/characters, but I do own this story...and quite a few others, so back off! They're mine!

Hope lingered.

It was a wonderful feeling; the feeling of hope. The feeling of living, of not being terrified, of not being in pain. The feeling of hope had been with him for a while, and he was still dancing happily in it.

Three months.

It had been three months since that night.

Since those four men had hurt him.

Since those four men had touched him.

Since those four men had raped him.

He could say it now. It had taken a while, but he could say it. He had to; it was the only way for him to move on. To heal. To get past what had happened to him.

They had raped him, yes.

They had humiliated him, yes.

They had shattered him, yes.

But it wasn't the end of the world. He had learned to move on. It still hurt; he still had his bad days, but it had only been three months. He was entitled to a few bad days. It was something that would stick with him for the rest of his life, but it wasn't something that had to control him.

They were gone. They had enjoyed their night of pleasure, and they had left.

Left, making false promises.

Chandler had believed for a long time that those promises were real; that they would return.

As it turned out, counselling was a wonderful thing. Shrinks weren't as bad as he had been led to believe. They were there to help him; they were there to lead him forward. To bring him back to his feet. But the counselling wasn't the thing he had needed most.

He had resisted at first; struggled from their concern. He had believed that he didn't want them involved. But once Joey had found out, he had needed them more than anything. Once Joey had figured it out all by himself, things had changed, and they had changed for the better.

Joey.

He was slow on a lot of things, but not when it came to Chandler. He had figured it out by looking at Chandler's face; by listening to his terrified words. He had hugged him, and he hadn't let him go.

And he still hadn't let go; three months later, Joey was still there for him. Taking care of him. Protecting him.

Chandler didn't fear Joey anymore. He hadn't feared Joey since that day; two days after the rape. He hadn't feared Joey since his best friend had held him close and understood. Since his best friend hadn't hurt him, and had taken care of him. Joey had been there every time Chandler needed to cry; needed to scream, needed to throw things. Joey had taken all the abuse that Chandler could throw at him, and he still hadn't been swayed. None of his friends had. They had all been there for him.

Listening to him when he needed to talk. Taking him to the hospital that night; Rachel finally getting her wish, but not being happy about it. She could never have been happy about what had happened to him. They had comforted him when he had waited for the test results; had hugged him close when they came back negative.

AIDS.

It was an ugly word, and Chandler was thankful he didn't have it. But he had wondered for a while, and he had been terrified. But nothing had come of it.

They may have been monsters, but they hadn't had any diseases. Chandler was thankful towards them for that fact. He could move on. He could stand.

Stand, climb and fall.

He had loved that phrase, and once more believed it applied to him.

With his friend's support, he was able to stand again; he had found his feet. He was able to climb once more. He knew he would eventually fall again – he always did – but he would be able to stand once more.

The monsters had caused him so much pain, but they had done something wonderful for him.

He was a Picasso.

He was a Van Gough.

He was a Monet.

Not his blood; him. He was special, beautiful, just like he had always longed to be. It had taken so much pain, but he had finally realised. He had always been special, he just had never known. Those four men had caused so much pain, but they couldn't change that fact. He was art. Precious. One of a kind.

The human mind was a fickle thing. It lead you to believe all was lost, when in actuality, hope lurked just around the corner.

He had been at edge of his sanity, but hoped had lurked. Hope had come to him. And now he was happy; as happy as he could be. Soon, he would be happier. Soon, their touch, their smell, their violation would become a distant memory; it was already fading. It would never leave him, but it would disappear enough. He could live with it, without being numb.

He didn't long to be numb anymore; it was a horrible thing. He thrived in living; thrived in feeling. He thrived in climbing once more.

"You ready Chan?"

Chandler looked up at Joey, offering his friend a small smile. It was time to face the world again. Was he ready for that?

"Yeah Joe, I'm ready."

He joined his friends out in the hallway, offering them all a smile. Life goes on, and it was his choice whether he wanted it to be happy or miserable.

Chandler had never been one for misery. He enjoyed laughter. He enjoyed silliness. He enjoyed happiness. So he had chosen happiness. He had been led there by his friends.

They supported him now; Rachel with her fingers around his arm, Ross with his hand on the small of his back. Monica, giving him small hugs every now and then. Phoebe, squeezing his non existent biceps.

And Joey.

Joey didn't need to touch him. Chandler could see his support in his best friend's eyes. He could see it in all their eyes.

And it occurred to him, as the six of them walked down the stairs, that he had been so blind.

He had longed for his Utopia; longed to find it. But, he realised that he had already found it, so long ago.

With his friends; with their support, he had found his Utopia.

With his friends, he was happy.