This chapter I have to rewrite because I accidentally replaced it with another story of mine so until I do write it this story will not make any sense to you. I'll try to get it up as soon as possible. Sorry for my mistake.

...I don't have any memorization of what I wrote months ago. But I don't want to have to delete such a good story so I will try my best.

2/6/14

He was in the attic when he found the pictures. There were probably 50 of them piled up in old torn, shoe boxes and shoved to the side where his mom hoped he would never find them.

He ran to the bathroom where his mother stood getting ready. "Who is he?" He asked eagerly showing her one of the many pictures her found.

Monica looked over at her teenage son and her expression changed from careless to hurtful memories. "Where did you find that?" She asked, keeping her eyes locked on the picture he was holding.

"In the attic." He admitted, his stern tone staying thin "Along with about fifty others."

Monica shook her head. "What were you doing in the attic?"

"I was getting my bike but that was blocked but boxes...boxes of pictures." He accused her "So who is he?"

Monica couldn't believe it. She thought she hid those memories far away from both their lives. She never wanted to see them again, but it looks like that hope changed. "I don't know." She lied "An old friend that drifted away I guess." She left the bathroom and walked away, down to the kitchen where she would make herself a cup of coffee.

Jack followed her and continued his questioning "What's his name?" He sat down at the counter "Did he live here or was he like a pen pal?" He questioned "He died didn't he? He died and that is why I never meet him."

"Jack." Monica pleaded him to stop and handed him a bowl and cereal "I don't want to talk about this."

"Why not?" He asked looking at the picture that some how stuck out from all the others he saw "I just want to know why he isn't apart of the group anymore."

"Jack!" She yelled, giving up all patience "I said I don't want to talk about this." Sighing, she said more softly "Please eat, you're gonna miss your bus."

Without anymore questions, he ate.

Jack knew better than to go to his mom with this. He should have known she wasn't going to tell him. He needed to ask someone else.

Rachel snagged the picture out of her nephews hand "Where did you get this?" She asked, a shake to her voice

"It was in storage." He answered "So do you know who he is?" He asked his aunt

Rachel looked up at Jack, "I don't think I should tell you." She gave the picture back "Your mom would kill me if she ever knew I told you. We all swore he would never come up in a conversation again."

"You don't have to tell me the whole story." He said "Just his name."

Rachel thought long and hard about mentioning his name. The name that hasn't been said in thirteen years.

"You know what, you don't even have to tell me his name...just a number and address and I'll be on my way..." He stood up and grabbed his book bag

Then she spoke "Chandler Bing."

Late that night Jack hurried to start up his computer and searched for the one person that was in the group photo but no longer in the group.

As he typed the name 'Chandler Bing' he saw 42 different Chandler Bing's in the United States. Knowing that won't get him far he then typed in New York and found 9.

All nine of those Chandler Bing's lived somewhere in New York and Jack was determined to find the one he was looking for.

He quickly grabbed the phone book and looked up Bing.

Searching and searching for the name he suddenly heard footsteps walking down the hall and towards his room.

Jack quickly shut off his screen light, shut his book and jumped into bed.

Covering himself up just in time before his mother opened the door.

Monica watched as her son slept peacefully. His eye lids closed and the blanket up to his chin.

Smiling, she closed the door and headed to her room to do just the same.

When Jack heard the door closed he removed the covers and presumed what he was doing before. He found the name Chandler Bing on page 69. All nine of them and their phone number. He then grabbed his scratch notebook out of his book bag and wrote them down.

Tomorrow he was going to call every single one. And he hoped, one of them knew of a Monica Geller.

Yep, there is my attempt at the first chapter that I wrote over 6 months ago. I know it's short and probably terrible but once you do the same then you can judge, until then the story awaits. And trust me, this chapter was probably the worst. All you need to know was the meaning and I hope you understood that. The rest of the story is so much better, trust me.