A/N: Hello =) As is probably obvious this is my first published Silent Witness fanfiction, I finally couldn't resist writing for this fandom anymore, I've loved H/N since I first watched the show. This oneshot is a songfic, to the beautiful lyrics of Toby Keith's 'If A Man Answers'.
This is unbeta-d so any discrepancies and mistakes are mine and mine alone.
Disclaimer: Any recognisable characters, settings or lyrics aren't mine...I'm only a poor 'A' Level student. They belong to the BBC or Toby Keith.
If A Man Answers
"Well, goodbye Nikki," he mumbled, his dark eyes flicking from his shuffling feet to his fiddling fingers.
"Goodbye, Harry," she answered stiffly. Her cold, detached tone made him wince as if physically wounded. That was certainly how this goodbye felt, as if it was a knife in his heart.
"I'll call and write," he said, "that is, if you want me to,"
"Yeah, that'd be nice," she mumbled unconvincingly.
He reached out to hug her and, somewhat surprisingly, she clung to him, as if she were drowning. He had to battle to swallow a lump in his throat when he felt her tears through the thin material of his jumper.
"Niks, don't cry, it's only for..." he was cut off as she suddenly wrenched herself away from him, leaving his arms to fall redundantly to the sides of his body.
"No Harry. It might as well be forever!" she hissed. "On second thoughts, it's probably better if you don't write or call all that much after all," she whispered harshly.
He opened his mouth to answer, although he had nothing to say, but she spoke over him,
"Goodbye Harry," she murmured sadly and with a flick of the long, soft blonde curls that were oh so Nikki she had turned away and walked out of his life.
In reality, Harry had tried to contact her a few times but amidst a haze of unanswered letters, diverted phone calls and awkward five minute conversations she had openly told him that she felt discarded and thrown away and that, as she needed time to get over it, he should just not contact her anymore. He had put the phone down with a heavy heart and not a day had gone by where he didn't hope and pray that her 'getting over it time' had finished and she would contact him somehow – but she never did.
And truthfully, Harry didn't blame her. He had hurt her. Just as it looked like they'd taken their first tottering steps into couple-dom, everything had come crashing down around them and he didn't feel like he should stay or go.
He smiled wryly as he clambered into a large black taxi, shielding himself from the blustering wind and flurries of rain – weather he certainly hadn't been used to recently. That was a cue for a song, as Leo would say.
"Where am I taking you, mate?" the taxi driver asked gruffly and it occurred to Harry that actually, he didn't have a clue where he was going. He hadn't been able to sort out new accommodation in London before he left America. It hadn't really been on his mind. The only thing on his mind recently had been seeing Nikki again after six, long months.
That was the one and only reason he could give for what he said next.
"23. John Street please," he answered – it was Nikki's address. He had no idea where he was going to go once he got there, especially if she happened to see him standing outside her house and he toyed with the idea of phoning her. If he had learnt only one thing when it came to Nikki, it was best to give some forewarning.
You said you need a little time,
Little time to yourself,
I'm standin' down this telephone wondering,
There might be someone else,
He had recently bought a new SIM to take to London and consequently didn't have many people's numbers. But that wasn't a problem: he knew Nikki's off by heart – it was a mantra he had repeated many times whilst in America, looking at the black and white screen every time the phone rang to check if it shone out those 11 tiny digits. He rang the number and the familiar dial tone filled his head, as he listened his mind wandered, rifling through made up images of what Nikki's life might look like now. She would still be a forensic pathologist of course, with as much drive, determination and passion as always – that would never change. And she would have had a string of totally unsuitable boyfriends; that much was for sure. And they would have left her and hurt her and made her cry and...
Harry didn't know where to go next with that particular situation. He wondered who she would have gone to when they did hurt her, whilst he was half way across the globe. He remembered the days when she would turn up at his flat, a takeaway and a bottle of wine in one hand, a DVD in the other, a watery smile carried on her face and the words 'some you and me time, Harry?' tumbling from her lips. And he would take the things out of her hands and set them aside. They would stand and stare for the briefest of seconds before he enveloped her in a hug, allowing her to bury her head into his chest and cry, asking, 'will I ever find anyone Harry? Am I just destined to be alone forever?' And he would feel his heart break a little and he'd shake his head and whisper, 'he's out there Niks, I just know it'. And he could feel confident in the knowledge that he was not lying because the right man was out there – he was just closer than she ever realised.
Then, they'd curl up on his sofa, a blanket covering them up to their necks, watching whatever DVD Nikki had seen fit to bring and eating the food together.
Harry would wonder how one person could be so oblivious to another's feelings – there were some days when he laid it on with a trowel and she still didn't notice.
And after some time she would fall asleep, her head resting on his shoulder and his arm around her and he would carry her to his bedroom with a sigh and think to himself 'on the sofa again, Harry'.
He snorted quietly to himself. Yeah right; as if he had minded.
But what if she had found someone suitable? What if, when someone answered the phone, it wasn't Nikki's voice he heard?
If a man answers, when I call,
I'll just hang up, I won't say anything at all,
If a man answers, I know what I'll do;
I'll lie here awake, so I don't dream about you.
He cut the phone off at the last minute. He still had a fair journey to go. He'd take his time and think out what he would say. Somehow he didn't think a quick 'Hi Nikki, it's me – Harry – d'you remember me? I was a complete bastard, then I left you to go teach in America. But yeah, now I'm standing outside your house with nowhere to go and seeing as it's pouring with rain d'you reckon you could just let me in for a while?' would exactly cut it.
America had been a great experience, but, upon reflection, he knew it hadn't been worth losing Nikki. Teaching others had really helped his own knowledge and seeing them progress and surpass even their own dreams and desires had given him a feeling that he never thought he would experience. A feeling that he had never even thought real, in fact; believing it was just reserved for cheesy films and trashy TV dramas.
He had tried to convince himself that he would never miss his London home when he was living in a warm, tropical environment, in a frankly much bigger, better house, with long, sandy beaches just a short drive away, surrounded by the American Dream day and night. But really, he had missed the whole city with a long, intermittent ache that never quite went away but seemed to shrink itself when he tried to focus everything he had on it. And he had tried.
As for relationships, he had tried those too. With nice girls, funny girls, girls men like him wanted to meet and settle down with. Girls he hadn't wanted to hurt. But they hadn't been Nikki, and that was the problem. He had tried to turn his head away when they cried and asked him what they'd done wrong and in every short-lived relationship he would pray that they would be the ones to do the breaking up, because that way no one got hurt and no one cried. And sometimes they did break up with him. But mostly they didn't.
He stared out into the dark night, the reflection on the window making it impossible to see anything outside, save for the coloured streaks of light that were cars, traffic lights and the bright windows of occupied houses. Houses he could only presume were filled with families and couples and lovers and friends. All the things he was lacking in at the moment.
He turned his mobile over and over as he planned his conversation mentally. He knew he had to call her, and soon, it was only getting later and he was only getting closer. He didn't have a clue what the time was, he hoped it was still a reasonable hour.
He called again and focussed on the dial tone. This time he wouldn't hang up. If she was the one that answered, that is. He didn't know how he'd feel if someone else picked up. He knew it would hurt, and he would feel jealous and angry, but he also knew he just wanted her to be happy – whoever that was with.
If a man answers this time of night,
At least I'll know somebody's holding you tight.
If a man answers I won't call again,
And I'll know where I stand while I twist in the wind.
"Hello?" came a puzzled voice. "Who is this?" it demanded. Harry felt his chest constrict painfully.
"Nikki," he breathed, feeling half-relieved and half-disappointed. At least if some man had answered he could have taken the cowardly route and hung up, telling the taxi driver to take him somewhere else. Now there was no going back. There was a pause – he wondered if she'd even recognise his voice after all this time.
"Harry?" she whispered after a while.
"Yeah," he whispered back, just as the taxi pulled over. He paid the fare and stepped outside. Sheltering as best he could from the now tumultuous rain but failing to escape from the wind. As he was pushed violently this way and that, street debris whirling around him, he tried to say something but his voice was carried away.
"Where are you?" she asked, seeming oblivious to the fact that he was no longer in America, "it sounds like you're in some kind of storm!"
"I am," he replied, his teeth chattering against his will. He swore as something heavy hit his leg.
"Are you alright?" she demanded, sounding faintly concerned.
"Yeah, it's just I didn't know where else to go – I don't have anywhere," he mumbled cryptically.
"What are you talking about? Where are you?"
He paused, thinking about what to say, would he sound like he was doing his best impression of a stalker if he told the truth? Either way, he couldn't stay there much longer and he wasn't exactly going to walk to the nearest hotel, wherever that was.
"I'm...er...I'moutsideyourhouse,"
"Pardon?" she asked. He took a deep breath.
"I'm...outside...your...house," he cried over a crash as something fell over in the wind.
"Wait, you're where?" she cried incredulously. "Hang on a sec," she muttered and he thought he detected the sound of footsteps down the phone.
Suddenly, the tiny street was filled with light and he glanced up to see Nikki standing across the one-way road, leaning against the open door frame, the phone clutched to her ear, a look of sheer disbelief on her face.
Harry's heart jumped to his throat.
Baby, I'm just missing you,
I'm crazy, still in love with you.
I know my heart will break in two,
If a man answers,
If a man answers,
If it was possible, she was more beautiful than he remembered. Her bright blonde hair was whipping around her like a rippling halo and her pale skin seemed to glow, dimming all other light spilling out from behind her. She was dressed for bed – a pair of powder blue pyjama trousers billowing up in the wind, slipper boots on her feet and her free arm clutched an oversized white t-shirt to her torso.
"Are you coming inside, or what?" she shouted across to him and without even thinking he pressed the end call button on his phone and, clutching his suitcases, dashed across the street into the familiar entrance hall a muttered thanks crossing his lips.
I just gotta tell you girl.
Maybe somehow make you see
How much I want you to come back to me...
"What on earth are you doing here?" she breathed, sounding half pleasantly surprised, half unpleasantly surprised.
"My six months are up," he answered and saw her face twitch slightly, as if she was trying to conceal a flash of emotion. "And I wasn't able to sort accommodation out long-distance so when the taxi driver asked where I was going I just said here," he said quickly, trying to explain that he hadn't meant to just turn up on her doorstep.
"You'd better come into the living room," she said quickly. "You need to dry off and get warm." He followed her into the adjoining room and the smell of Nikki just surrounded him. It smelt welcoming and comforting. It smelt of home. He sat down on the edge of the sofa, putting his cases to one side.
"Only two?" she enquired, nodding her head.
"There was nothing I wanted to take with me. Because I was only going for six months, Leo let my leave many of my things behind, with him. The rest, like furniture, I just sold,"
"That was kind," she answered distractedly, pressing the mute button on the television remote. Everything went silent except for the storm raging outside, which seemed muffled by the sheer atmosphere and emotion between them. "Can I get you anything to eat or drink?"
"No, thank-you." There was a silence for a moment and Harry cast his mind back to the last time there had been an awkward silence between them that hadn't been over the phone. He couldn't remember. "I'm...I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" he enquired as innocently as possible, looking around pointedly, his heart thudding in his chest as he braced himself for the answer.
...But if a man answers,
You'll never know.
He'll let you sleep,
While I let you go.
"No," she answered slowly and carefully. "There's no one else here, if that's what you mean,"
"Good," he answered quickly, before realising how that sounded. "I mean, good that I'm not interrupting anything. Not good that you're...you're..." he trailed off awkwardly.
"I knew what you meant, Harry," she answered dully.
Of course she did, he thought. She had always known what he meant; better than he did half the time.
"How have you been?" he asked, "it's been ages," he added, wondering if he was pushing his luck slightly. After all, it was his fault that it had been 'ages'.
"I've been ok," she answered mildly – a word not normally associated with Nikki. "How was America?"
"It was...ok," he tried and they both smiled weakly. "Teaching was a great experience," he continued honestly. He was making a conscious effort not to tread on her toes. Clearly, his leaving was going to be a difficult subject for a long time to come, he didn't want to say anything that would make her angry or upset. "I missed London though," he added, thinking that there was nothing there that could start an argument. Nothing wrong with that at all.
"I missed you, Niks." The words were out of his mouth before he'd realised it was even open. On the other hand, there was something very, very wrong with that one; it certainly covered angry and upset. Shit. As for that sentence – he had just handed her a ticket for a mental, and maybe even physical, beating on a silver plate. Well done Harry. Well, bloody, done.
Unsurprisingly, her brown eyes flashed dangerously. He began to garble a sentence but she had already spoken.
"Well then, maybe you shouldn't have left in the first place," she said slowly and clearly, her voice dangerously low and calm. That was always worse than outright shouting – the calm before the very large and very potent storm. Had the weather conditions chosen to take Nikki on, they wouldn't have had a chance. That voice was just like a ticking time bomb, as the whole situation had been.
"Maybe you shouldn't have, after the highly unenviable affair with your ex-girlfriend, taken the cowards route out and run away. That is of course if you were even going to tell me. Maybe if I hadn't found the letter in your car I would have just walked into work one day, asked Leo where you were and he could have told me that you'd caught a plane toMiami, or wherever it was you jetsetted off to, and you weren't coming back for six months, that is of course unless His Royal Highness wanted to come back at all," she paused, her voice trembling furiously and her eyes shining with angry tears.
He didn't know what to say. He'd expected this. But it was still hard to hear.
"Nikki, I'm sorry, if I could convey in words how sorry I am then I would but I can't,"
"Then what good is it you being here again?" she shouted, salty tears spilling onto her cheeks. She wrapped her arms around her body, as if trying to keep from falling apart.
He was standing now, wanting to hold her and stop the tears like only he used to be able to do. But what good could he do now he was the one making her cry? This was totally new, alien. This was unchartered ground. He couldn't speak, so he didn't try. He just stood there silently, feeling stupid and awkward.
"You were my best friend," she sobbed, "best friends don't leave each other like that Harry!" she spat.
"I know, and I'm..." he tried but she wouldn't be silenced.
"And just as I thought there was a chance you might become more – my boyfriend as well as my best friend!"
He took a few faltering steps forward. No matter what had happened, or would happen between them, he couldn't bear to see her suffering like that.
"I thought I'd shown you properly, made you see...I was in love with you!" she cried, her crying becoming more pronounced.
His heart lurched at her careless use of the past tense – he'd ruined everything.
"I thought you weren't like all the other men! But you were worse!" she yelled.
"Just let me show you..." he began,
"No Harry! Just as I thought I might be able to get over you, you come back and bring all the feelings back to me!"
His body jolted forward, he couldn't watch her distressed like this. He pulled her trembling form to him and for the briefest of moments she fell limp against him, her tears on his jumper an ironic reflection of the last time he had seen her.
Then, the peaceful moment was over and she tried to pull away. Her tiny fists hit his chest ineffectually for a few moments as she sobbed uncontrollably and out of instinct he pulled his arms away, letting her do what she wanted.
However, a few moments later all she could do was turn away and cried quietly, all fight gone.
Oh baby I'm just missing you,
I'm crazy still in love with you.
I know my heart will break in two,
If a man answers,
If a man answers,
"Nikki," he whispered, "I'm sorry. I was a coward, just like you said. I threw away the only decent thing in my life. What can I do to prove that I love you? You've been all I've thought about for the last six months. I don't expect you to just forgive me immediately, in fact, if you did, I'd begin to question if you were the Nikki I left behind, but I just want to prove to you that I'm sorry," he said beseechingly.
"That's just the thing Harry, I'm not the Nikki you left behind, I haven't been the same since you left me," she whispered sadly, turning to face him. "It hurts to admit but I've missed you so much," she said, her lip trembling.
They stood and stared for what felt like an eternity, until she strode over and threw her arms around him.
"Promise me you're sorry and that you love me. Promise me you'll stay," she whispered in his ear, and she sounded like a child; lost and afraid
"I promise, Niks," he said, "I love you. I'm not going anywhere."
If a man answers you'll never know
If a man answers I'll let you go
If a man answers this time of night
If a man answers he's holding you tight
***
"Hello?" a muffled voice said down the phone, just about catching it on the last ring.
"Oh, I apologise," said Leo as the unexpected voice made him start. "I must have got a wrong number," he explained before hanging up quickly; he always hated wrong number conversations.
'How strange' he thought. He could have sworn that was right number. He called it nearly every night, how did he get it wrong?
His stomach gave an agitated twinge as he looked down at the first Caller ID he had in the 'recently dialled' section of his phone – he hadn't made a wrong call at all. So who on earth was the man that had answered? He pressed the call button almost angrily. She had promised him she wouldn't do this to herself.
"Hello?" a voice answered, this time the one he wanted to hear. "Leo?"
"Yeah," he answered, realising his voice sounded almost grumpy.
"Are you alright?"
"More importantly, are you alright?" he demanded.
"I'm fine, why wouldn't I be? Leo, is something the matter?"
"Nikki, who the hell was the man that just answered your phone?" Leo asked, feeling that familiar fatherly instinct wash over him, his brow wrinkling in concern.
"Oh," she said and paused.
"Well?" Leo demanded. She hadn't told him she was dating and that meant that she wasn't. He had made her promise when Harry left that she wouldn't reduce herself to any more one-night-stand 'relationships'. She was worth so much more than that.
"That...was Harry, Leo. He's come home," Nikki answered before hanging up, a smile on her face as she made eye contact with the tall, dark, not-so-strange man curled up on the sofa with her, just like they used to do.
If a man answers, if a man answers
If a man answers, if a man answers
If a man answers, oh if a man answers
If a man answers, if a man answers.
A/N: Voila! What did you think? I hope everyone was in character and I apologise if it moved a little fast. Leo's phone call would have happened a few hours afterwards and I just didn't want to have Harry and Nikki staying angry at each other for too long – we all know they couldn't! Also, I think they'd want to get over the animosity quickly if they had missed out on six months together, they'd still take the whole relationship really slowly.
I hope you enjoyed this, I would really love to write more H/N so I'd love some reviews with feedback and tips, especially as it's my first SW fanfic. Thanks in advance, and thanks very, very much for reading, Maidenstar xxx =D