Phew, I've finally made it! This was never meant to be a multi-chapter fic, more of a single-chapter slightly reflective piece. The truth is that I abandoned another long story I was working on with a severe case of writer's block - I mean, years of block. I intend to get back to that, but I wanted to check that I could still write... and it seemed that I might be able to carry this one on.

In retrospect, it does feel as if all I've done is copy the series with a few embellishments. It's maybe not as original as I would like it to be, but anyway...there it is. I hope you've enjoyed it, despite the flaws. I know it stops rather abruptly, but I didn't really want to go beyond that final scene in the last episode. Many, and much-better, writers than I have already done that and I'd rather just re-read their works!

Harry was sitting on a bench near the Lyell's entrance. He was so still and silent in the dark that Jack had just walked past him without even noticing. He cut a lonely figure as Jack went back over; looking down at him, Jack could see that the other man had been drinking for a while, although evidently not enough to be really drunk.

He peered up at Jack. "Can we go somewhere to talk?"

Jack bit his lip. "I'm not sure that's such a great idea."

"Please, Jack." Harry's voice was quiet, but firm. "It's important, or I wouldn't suggest it. I know perfectly well that I'm the very last person you want to see right now."

Jack sighed. "Ok, fine. I don't want to be long, though." He looked uncertainly towards the student's union bar.

Harry stood. "It won't take long. No - I know somewhere quieter, just around the corner."

As they walked, Jack noticed that Harry was just a little unsteady on his feet. He tended to be a quiet drunk – not that he often indulged these days. He was clearly aware that his drinking was dangerously close to becoming a habit. Jack didn't know if the problem ran in the family – Harry's father must have had mental health issues – or whether it was Harry's lifestyle that had turned him into a risky drinker, but he did know that Harry was painfully aware. It was unusual for him to drink like this…but then, today had been a pretty unusual day - for all of them…. Anyway, he found himself watching the other man's gait, ready to put out a hand in case he stumbled.

Harry led them towards a small pub on the next street – one that Jack had never frequented. Due to its proximity to the university, it was still quite studenty, but they managed to find a quiet table, and Harry ordered drinks with reasonably steady voice before sitting down and taking a big gulp from his pint.

Jack looked down at his beer, his heart sinking. He did not need to hear Harry's confession, not right now…although, in truth, probably not ever. He didn't want to hear how Harry had been drawn to Nikki - how those long, long years of flirting and furtive looks and missed opportunities had finally culminated in – in… whatever had happened last night. It was too raw.

Maybe Harry understood that. Maybe that was why, after silently staring into his own glass for almost ten minutes, he suddenly said, "She's in love with you."

Jack jumped slightly; he'd fallen into a mildly sleepy reverie.

"I wanted to say that first of all," Harry continued, his eyes on Jack, surprisingly steady. "Just in case you were still wondering. It's not me. It's you. I don't know how long she's felt that way, but…" He looked away suddenly, his eyes intent on a far corner of the dim, depressing little pub. "Anyway, I wanted to say that… I know."

Jack took a minute sip of his beer; the taste was bitter, and he put the glass down. "Then, why…?"

"Why last night?" Harry took another gulp of his beer before pushing the glass aside. He picked up a beer mat and began to shred it, his fingers moving automatically, almost viciously.

Jack nodded, although it wasn't quite what he had meant.

"I want you to know that I didn't know," Harry went on. "About you, I mean – about how you felt. I'm telling you the truth – I really didn't know how much she meant to you until I saw your face this morning. I mean, I knew there was something… I could see that from the moment I saw you together. Even before, in fact - I remember her talking about you in Washington and getting the impression that you – well. That you were important to her, in some way." He smiled, a little bitterly. "It's sometimes hard to tell with Nikki – no offence, but you know as well as I do, that she can be quite…tactile. When I saw the way, she was with you – touching you, putting her head on your shoulder, kissing your cheek – well, it was very much the way she used to be with me, even Leo sometimes. It didn't necessarily imply anything more. But then, sometimes I'd catch her looking at you…and that was different. I can't really explain it. And the way she sang to you at that ridiculous karaoke thing…"

He paused for a few minutes, still methodically tearing the beer mat into tiny pieces. Jack didn't interrupt him. At least that confirmed something – it was him who Nikki had been singing to that night. He had never quite been sure. But then he remembered that there had been that distraught expression on Harry's face…

As if reading his thoughts, Harry went on. "It was a shock – that night. I think I'd been falling in love with Nikki so gradually that I hadn't even noticed. She was just Nikki, for heaven's sake! I'd loved her for years, in some way or another, and maybe we should've got together years ago, before I even went to New York. I know that she thought so at one point – Leo did too. It just hadn't seemed…right…back then. Anyway, I knew she'd split up with Matt by that karaoke night, but I hadn't given it much thought, to be honest – I mean, I was sorry for her, but I had no thought that she might even look at me. But then… that night, she was singing that song and she was looking at you… and I knew. I'd never seen her looking at anyone like that before. Not even me. And… and it shouldn't have hurt as much as it suddenly did. That was a – a bit of a revelation, to be honest."

He glanced up at Jack. "Even then, I didn't do anything about it. I know you probably don't believe me, but – quite honestly, I expected that the next thing I'd hear was that you were officially together. She was officially single, she clearly loved you, and – I assumed – you felt something for her too. But then, nothing seemed to happen. You both went on just as before, perfectly polite and friendly to each other, but nothing more. And I began to think that – just maybe – I'd got it all wrong. Maybe you didn't feel the same way after all – after all, it wasn't as if Matt was in the way anymore, so why wouldn't you make your move if you did care? I didn't realize you hadn't heard about him – I don't know why she didn't tell you. So, in the end, I convinced myself that I wasn't – well, treading on anyone's toes, so to speak. And, also, I had a crazy idea that maybe I could make her feel the way she used to…about me. After all, she loved me once. Maybe it wasn't too late for us after all?"

Jack shifted, uncomfortably, and Harry glanced at him.

"I'm not going to go into details. I'm quite sure you don't want to know. But I just wanted to explain – to make you understand that…"

He sighed, clearly trying to find the right words. "See – Nikki and I, we were young together. We were free and single, we had everything that we wanted… How can I put this? There I was, the world at my feet – a qualified pathologist, working in a job I loved. I was like a kid in a sweetshop – I was working with Sam and Leo, both renowned in the field, but both a bit older than me… and then, along came Nikki. She was young, vibrant, fun to be with – incredibly beautiful. How could I not fall in love with her? How could I not want to spend years working alongside her? We had each other, we had Leo, it felt like we had everything. Even when we had disagreements, even when we were shouting at each other… she was the single most important person in my life. For years."

As Harry spoke, Jack remembered those photographs. The young couple, Harry and Nikki, their smiles full of energy and fun and laughter - in love with life and, perhaps, with one another. Yes, he could imagine what they had been like together.

Harry paused, taking another drink. "And then I made the decision to leave… And I won't say that it wasn't the best thing to do – professionally. And I'm not denying that I moved on personally too. Eventually, Nikki became just a lovely memory – a reminder of that wonderful feeling of being young and carefree, of knowing that your best years are yet to come… I knew I still loved her in some way and that I always would, but she belonged in the past… And maybe – just maybe – she should have stayed there…" His voice was suddenly painfully bitter. "Because, if she had…I wouldn't have to go on with the memory of -." He broke off suddenly, looking off into the dark corner again.

Jack had hardly touched his beer, but he noticed that Harry's glass was empty. "Do you want another one?" he asked, to be polite, not really meaning it.

Harry glanced at him. "No, thanks. I've had enough, don't you think?"

Jack didn't respond, feeling that Harry's emotions were on a knife's edge. Despite himself, he found that he did want to know what had happened, after all. He feared that Harry would suddenly clam up, turn away from him… but the other man seemed to no hurry to leave – or continue his story.

He sighed. "I'm sorry, I'm all to pieces. I'm trying to explain why it happened – and I know it's painful for you to think about – but I have to tell you… The reality is that when I came back… I was trying to escape from the mess that my life had become. You already knew that, anyway, I guess, but… If I'd gone back after a few weeks – six months, say – it'd have been a nice little interlude, seeing Nikki, revisiting old memories at the Lyell and so on before going home. But the longer it went on, the more it felt as if I'd already come home. My other life seemed to grow dimmer and less real somehow. Through Nikki – and even you, to some extent – I felt the excitement and tension of the cases, and I remembered how it felt. To – to be at the cutting edge of things – to be there, making a difference. And then, to be with Nikki again – working in the lab together, just like we used to be. It made me feel young, happy again. It made me feel…the way I used to feel. Do you see? I was trying to be what I used to me. I wanted to be that Harry Cunningham, not the middle-aged boring academic I felt that I'd become in New York – the man whose wife cheated on him with a younger man." He shook his head. "Maybe I thought that, if I could stay here, with Nikki…all my problems would go away. And… and I saw, in her, all the things I should have seen all those years ago. How could I have walked away from her – how could I have been so stupid?"

He paused; his gaze distant. "We were drunk last night – not so drunk that we didn't know what we were doing, but just enough to feel that it didn't matter. I can't pretend to know her motive – that's something you're going to have to work out with Nikki – but I do know something. She regretted it, almost immediately. Don't get me wrong – if she'd said 'no' at any moment, I would have stopped – I swear to you, Jack. It wasn't like that. It was just…I could see it in her eyes…afterwards. I think – again, she will be able to explain it better than I can – but I think she felt the essential wrongness of what we were doing. It was as if she'd had a sudden revelation. She knew she shouldn't be there – with me. She was trying to be nice about it, but… she was almost in shock, I think. She stared at me, and then her phone started ringing, and she shot out of bed to answer it. I… well, I lay there for a while, not certain what to do, and then I got up and went to see her, and asked her was she coming back to bed… I think I must have been denial. I wanted to convince myself that I hadn't seen that look in her eyes; I thought she might smile and come back with me and then – maybe – everything would be alright. But it – it wasn't alright, not at all."

Harry had resumed ripping beer mats, but his hands were shaking badly.

"I didn't sleep at all last night. All I could feel was that I'd done a terrible thing – that I'd ruined the one happy thing in my life, that she'd never be able to even look at me again, let alone talk to me. I knew that – even if we could never be a couple – it'd be enough, just to know that she was my best friend, that she loved me the way she always had… I mean, that anything was better than nothing - you know?"

Jack nodded. He knew.

"Well…she did talk to me, but only to confirm what I already knew by then. It had been a mistake. She'd been feeling lonely, she'd been drinking, she'd been watching those students having the time of their lives…and maybe she was, like me – just trying to capture something from long ago. But she realized, very quickly, that the concept of 'us' was fundamentally wrong. She loved me, but not like that… I suppose I should be grateful that we can still be friends, at least."

He didn't sound particularly grateful, though. Jack shifted uncomfortably and sipped his drink again, more through habit than anything.

"She didn't mention you," Harry added. "But she did admit that she realized that she needed to be 'somewhere else'. I asked whether she really meant 'somewhere else' or with someone else. I'm not sure why… I think I was thinking of your face this morning and then that time when she sang, and I was suspecting that I might have messed up even more than I'd realized… So, maybe I was sort-of testing her, to see if she realized how she felt about you."

"Did she say anything?" Jack asked.

Harry considered. "No, but… she had a startled look on her face, as if… as if she'd sort-of confirmed something. I got the feeling that she would have got there on her own anyway, if she'd had enough time to think about it. That's the trouble with Nikki. Always too busy to stop and think about the… important things in life. But you probably already know that."

He had stopped fidgeting with the remains of the beer mat, and looked intently at Jack, suddenly seeming perfectly sober.

"I'm sorry, Jack. Sorry about everything… I was thinking of myself last night, and probably for a while before that too. In fact," he grimaced, "it's something of a fault of mine… But I would never have come between you if I'd known – I swear it."

Jack looked down at his hands. "I suppose… well, you weren't to know."

Harry stirred a little. "That's why I shanghaied you tonight. I hung around, hoping you'd show up. I wanted to speak to you, even though I guessed I'd probably be the very last person you'd want to see…because it might have been the last chance. And I didn't want us to end on bad terms."

Jack looked up at him, startled.

Harry smiled grimly. "I'm going home. The US routes are opening again, very soon – and even if they don't, I'll find a way. I can't hide here any longer. I need to get back… I have a wife, and whatever happens, I need to be fair to her – we need to talk and decide what's going to become of us… and I can't do that over a screen." He pushed a hand through his hair. "I've already told the Dean that I'm resigning, and my lease is up on my apartment, so the timing is right."

"It's all a bit…sudden."

Harry gave him a wry look. "I think we both know that I can't stay here – not now. One day – I hope – Nikki and I will be the good friends that we always should have been, once again. Right now, it's too difficult. She feels guilty, and I don't think you're ever going to be entirely happy about having me around again. No - don't try to deny it! The most generous man in the world – and you are a generous man, Jack – would hardly be comfortable in the circumstances. No – it's best I make a fresh start. Maybe -," he smiled, amused – "maybe I need to grow up a bit."

"I'm going to miss you," Jack admitted. He found that - perhaps, Harry was right – he could be generous now. Harry had been a good friend, and if things were different…

Harry smiled at him. "Thank you. I appreciate all the things you've done, Jack – not for me, but for Nikki. I do think that you've been good for her. She's in a much better place than she was when I first left, despite all the things she's been through…and I'm absolutely certain that she wouldn't have been if it hadn't been for you. Even if you weren't so obviously in love with her, I think you would still have taken good care of her…because that's you, Jack… I'm going to go, now, because I've said all that I wanted to say and – well, to be frank, I'm exhausted. Not just physically, either."

He stood, and Jack stood up too, caught out by the abruptness of Harry's movement. Now he could see the other man's face, he realized that Harry was by no means as calm and collected as he was trying to appear.

"Goodbye, Jack – and good luck. If you ever find yourself in New York, you know you'll always be welcome to visit – that goes for Nikki too, but she knows that." He reached over and shook Jack's hand rather quickly. "By the way -," he added, "I'm not going to insult you by asking you to take care of her…because you always have…and I think you always will. Far better than I ever did."

His voice broke slightly on the last words, and he turned away quickly, leaving the pub without a backward glance.

Jack sat down again on slightly weak legs. He knew that, for as long as he lived, he would never forget the expression of agony on Harry's face as he said those last words…

Parking his car and then taking Simone's apologetic phone call, Jack felt beyond exhausted. It was late now; the house was in darkness. He was used to that anyway, as Conor tended to go to bed early these days, but the house looked almost desolate from the outside.

He couldn't help feeling disappointed. It was ridiculous, he knew – he'd been hours longer than even he had expected, and why would she stay that long, when she knew he could just as easily text or call when he was free? She probably knew that he wouldn't be up to a serious conversation when he got back; she probably planned to talk to him tomorrow when they'd both caught up on their sleep. After all, they had all the time in the world…

And yet, right up until he'd pulled up against the curb, there had been just a little kernel of hope. She had promised, after all. She had said she would wait for him…

He went into the house, locking the door behind him and doing all the automatic safety checks that had become habitual – lights out, heating off, plugs removed. He moved towards the lounge, there was a dim light somewhere that his dad had probably left on. The beer at the pub had left a stale taste, maybe he'd pour just a nip of whiskey to take upstairs with him… He stopped.

She hadn't left. She was there, lying on their sofa, fast asleep, her blonde hair ruffled. As he approached her on suddenly soft feet, he saw that her hand still clutched her mobile… as if she had been waiting for his call all day…

He knelt beside her, gently touched her hand, stroked that soft hair back from her forehead with the lightest of touches. She stirred, opened her eyes sleepily…and gazed up at him, her mouth curving into a gentle smile…