How can I tell you, don't bang your head against the wall
The wall I've been banging and praying might fall.
Another Day, Mary Black
A suite at The Ritz, London, 3pm 5th May 1946
Ron let Gary rest for a while after they had eaten lunch. Gary had said that he genuinely felt tired enough to sleep, so he hadn't taken the pills that Ron had offered him. When Gary woke Ron would have to start the process of approaching the real reason he had come, he didn't have much time left. For now he was content to sit in an armchair watching his friend sleep tucked up underneath the covers of the bed; he gained a certain amount of peace from it. He had saved Gary and Gary had confessed sufficiently for Ron to know that it had been anything but a little fling. Gary had very little to keep him in the past, the rest would be easy. Ron took another large swig of whisky; he wondered if Gary knew what it was like to be missing something for thirteen long years.
Gary sat in the café staring into his tea; he could vaguely hear Phoebe's voice complaining about something; probably the fact that he wasn't listening. The café was busy but Gary tried to ignore it, Phoebe tugged at his arm and he gave her a questioning gaze. Another customer rubbed up against Gary's shoulder and Gary turned up to see and looked straight into the eyes of Xavier. Phoebe was still tugging at his arm, he still looked at Xavier wondering why there was a tear in his eye, he looked upset. Gary turned back to Phoebe, she was standing up and flinging her coat on, she left the café and Gary knew he must follow. He gave Xavier a glance hoping that he knew that it meant he would be back before launching himself out of the café door.
He was going to save her this time, he just knew he was; Gary ran forwards knowing by now which route she would be taking. He was gaining ground fast, he called out to her; as if his shout was the cue and nothing else, the bus appeared, as always within a few seconds it was all over. Gary hastily turned back towards the café retracing his steps; he turned the corner only to find himself facing the front aspect of Blitz and Pieces Bar. An aged Vulcan bomber, resurrected especially for twenty-first century conflict, flew overhead. Gary watched as it dropped its load sending a bomb crashing through the roof of the bar. The force of the blast threw Gary; he fell on his back. As the dust cleared he found himself looking up into the eyes of Ron as he knelt by his side,
"It's too late Gary mate," Ron said shaking his head, "You were too late."
Suddenly Gary was on his feet and running towards the wreckage of the bar. He dove in pulling rubble aside with a strength he didn't know he possessed, "Xavier!" he cried out, and then to himself, "It's not too late."
Gary became aware that he was being held tightly and that somebody was calling his name. He opened his eyes to find that he was lying down on a bed and that his head was cradled against somebody's chest, their arms firmly holding him close. He recognised the smell of whisky on the breath of the person as they spoke.
"Gary, wake up," the voice said, "It's a dream, it's only a dream."
Gary forced himself to give up his resistance and lay shaking instead, trying to let the firm hold make him feel secure. He opened his eyes and looked straight up to find Ron looking down at him.
"I can't do this anymore," Gary gasped, he was breathing too hard with the panic. Ron vowed to himself not to play anymore games, Gary hadn't talked in his sleep before now, he had been drugged into sleep; what he had just said though told him enough.
Ron felt Gary's breathing begin to calm, a minute more and he would find their current scene embarrassing. Ron encouraged Gary to sit.
"You better have a bath," Ron said playing mother, "There are still things we have to talk about before I go."
Gary looked panicked again, "When do you have to go?" He asked.
"Soon," Ron answered vaguely and to Gary's annoyance though he tried to hide it. Ron sensed it though and smiled to himself, "You know how these time portals can be."
Gary obediently took a bath under Ron's firm instruction. He was glad he had, it was good to get out of the clothes he had intended to drown in. The water was very hot and Gary threw in a bit of bubble bath and sunk down into the depths. He hadn't had a bath in a while, he hadn't cared much for everyday routine; surely he was due more than his regulation depth on this one occasion. Part of him wanted to stay depressed, the part that thought it a betrayal of Phoebe, Xavier and Michael's memory to be able to function normally. The hot water was soaking his cares away though, whether he liked it or not. His brain was starting to think like it hadn't been able to in so long. Suddenly a thought came to him, Marijuana had been legal since 2040, Ron had said so; Gary had met Xavier in 2053 and he definitely hadn't been in his pre-teens.
Gary stood up, suddenly the bath was a hindrance and he started to dry himself as quickly as possible. It was all so clear now, Xavier existed already, Ron was just playing with him; he must know, maybe he had been to the future first. Wasn't it just too much of coincidence that there had been a time portal waiting for him just at the moment he needed one? He couldn't be sure though; it could also be true that Ron had found his death certificate just as he had said, Xavier was a little boy and now Ron would know to warn him off talking to a tall dashing time-traveller, thus saving them all a lot of heartache. Did that mean that sometime in the near future he would suddenly stop hurting? Gary shook his head; all this future-past time-travel consequence nonsense was just clouding his thoughts. The real question was, was he going to let Ron know that he had been at least partially sussed. The answer came as soon as the question was fully formed, Ron had played with him, extent unknown; Gary Sparrow would ascertain by how much and have a little fun making Ron fight for his deception while he did.
Gary felt a little guilty, as he emerged from the bathroom with a towel wrapped round his waist he noticed a pile of fresh clothes on the end of the bed; you could still get anything you wanted if the price wasn't an issue. Ron sat on the sofa savouring another glass of whisky. Yes, definitely post 2040, Gary thought. Once Gary had dressed he joined Ron on the couch and was handed a drink. Gary found that Ron had been drinking quite a lot.
"So how did you find a portal?" Gary asked, "You didn't have much luck with the things before now."
Ron smiled a grim and drunk smile, "Wasn't hard Gary," He answered, "When the bomb went off and I heard what size it had been, I knew there was bound to be something lying open for me there; somewhere."
"What?" Gary said in disbelief, the consequences of Ron's words barely beginning to form, all thoughts of childish retribution gone.
"That whole area, the shop, everything; exploded to nothing in the biggest bomb to hit the city, ever." Ron continued, "You remember what happened the last time a bomb went off in Duckett's Passage don't you Gary?"
Gary's head was spinning in circles with the panic and the memory of the dream, "How long?" He demanded much too sharply, "How far have you travelled?"
"One hundred and six," Ron answered calmly at the risk of making Gary turn even whiter. "2053." Ron answered to Gary's next but as yet unspoken question.
"No, that's not possible." Gary blurted out without thinking, the panic still gripping him. Gary didn't know what was happening, Ron had been dead by 2052.
"He lied to you, about me; I didn't want you to see me, circumstances forced my hand for this current visit," Ron answered to another unspoken question.
Other thoughts were racing through Gary's mind too, the bar, the whole of the East End was gone. Maybe his dream was a premonition of sorts; it had been a new one, and the first time it hadn't been the Mayfair apartment getting blown up. Gary couldn't ask the question though he desperately needed to know.
"The bomb came down with little warning, nobody in the bar stood a chance though at least it was a quick death," Ron began with his very handy perception still working well, "Xavier has been running things in the country since May, however, so at least it was a hired staff who met their end and not my only son."
Gary knew he had looked dramatically relieved but he didn't care, Xavier had taken notice of his advice and he was still alive.
"Looks like fate wants him still alive, though God knows why." Ron commented taking a large grim swig of his whisky. Gary couldn't cope with not knowing anymore.
"Ron, you're from 2053, you and I both know what happened not so long ago, now tell me because I need to know."
Ron laughed a grim drunken laugh to himself, "Oh, you're wrong Gary, he wouldn't tell me a thing, I suppose you don't tell your parents things do you."
"Oh," Gary said, he would have felt relieved if he hadn't already confessed.
"I could guess though," Ron suddenly said with a sharp voice that made Gary jump, "You could see it in his eyes, the way…"Ron began again before thinking better of it and hiding himself in the whisky.
"So how is he?" Gary prompted.
"He's fine," Ron said smiling but not looking up from his drink, "He's managing the estate and enjoying it." Gary couldn't help feeling strangely let down though he was ashamed at himself for it.
"So, Gary," Ron started getting himself sat up straight in the chair, "I've got to go back tomorrow morning, what are you going to do?"
Gary's head was going round in circles; he couldn't think what to say first. Ron was drunk and contradicting himself and now he was bringing up the subject Gary definitely didn't want to think about.
"I don't know," Gary answered.
"You're going back to the bridge, aren't you?" Ron observed.
"What do you expect? Nothing has changed." Gary shouted, suddenly angry. He wanted Ron to make everything all right but there was no way that it could be. No matter how much Gary wanted Ron to stay he knew it wasn't fair. Ron wasn't his to keep; somewhere in 2053 somebody else needed him too.
"I'm still your friend, I always will be; friendship doesn't end just because we don't see each other." Ron said intentionally calm, he forced Gary to look him in the eye.
"What is the point if I won't see you ever again?" Gary asked bitterly. Yes, Ron was right, he would go to the bridge and he would do it right; nothing had changed.
Ron leaned back in his seat, sinking into the cushions with fatigue, world-weariness and whisky.
"I need coffee." He said simply.
At length Ron got up and ordered himself a coffee and quite quickly it arrived. It arrived Ritz style, not just one coffee but a whole pot full and two china cups with matching saucers; all presented on a tray with a lace tablecloth, little biscuits on a side plate.
"We'll dine in the restaurant this evening," Ron announced as he poured the coffee, "Just one more time. You know, this is all gone, back home."
"All of it?" Gary asked dreading the answer.
"Well," Ron said smiling, "All of The Ritz anyway, quite a few other things. The Mayfair flat is still OK."
Gary was offered a cup of coffee and he took it. There were so many things he should be asking but he couldn't bring himself to say them whilst Ron was viewing him so intently. Gary took his coffee to the window and turned to look out. Outside everything carried on as normal, a typical post-war scene, it seemed strange to watch it. The windows framing the action like a movie scene it almost seemed as if this were once again the past. It was as flat as a film to Gary, he could not feel the victory buzz that he had heard about from the newsreels.
"If you could do anything, anything at all, what would you do?" Ron asked suddenly, "What would solve Gary Sparrow's problems? What would keep you from the bridge?"
Gary turned sharply and stared at him, how could he ask a question like that now? "What if I tell you that saying it wouldn't make any difference?" Gary asked.
"Is there anything you want to stay here for?" Ron persevered as if he hadn't heard.
"You know how good I am at living permanently in the past, remember that one time before, it was the same this time; it's a fun place to visit when you can get out again." Gary answered matching Ron's lead; he obviously wanted things to go his way.
"There's plenty women out there, I imagine," Ron pointed to the window, "Who have lost their husbands and need a friendly shoulder to cry on." he suggested.
Gary abruptly turned back to the window and leaned his forehead against it, "No," he said, it was all he could manage.
"Let's dress for dinner," Ron announced unexpectedly, "You can tell me after we get back here."
"What?"
"What you would like Gary? This gives you two hours to think about it."
Gary didn't need two hours to figure out what he wanted, he just needed two hours to work out how to tell Ron if he persisted in asking. He rather thought he would, he just hoped it was leading somewhere constructive. They dressed and went for dinner. Downstairs, Ron suddenly didn't want to talk at all. Everything that was said, Gary initiated and Ron didn't make any effort to prolong the exchange. Gary used the space to think things through and concluded that he would tell Ron, he would answer his questions simply as they were asked. If Ron didn't kill him for how he felt and what he wanted it didn't matter, he was going to the bridge afterwards anyway; it was just a matter of pain levels.
A suite at The Ritz, London, 7pm 5th May 1946
It had been a strange meal, Gary thought that it should have felt momentous but it had felt like any other meal at The Ritz. They made their way back to the hotel room as soon as they finished, they weren't a part of this world now and they couldn't talk with ease within it. As soon as they got settled room service knocked on the door with a pot of tea.
"I have to leave here early in the morning, can't go stumbling through the portal onto a bomb site during the day; they were still clearing away the bodies when I left, far too crowded." Ron started once they were alone again. "So, we have until then to do something with you."
"I know what I want but I can't have it." Gary started, he took his place beside the window, somehow he knew Ron wasn't going to let him have things easy.
"Can't turn back, Phoebe is dead, the war is over," Ron contributed.
"Even looking forwards there are things that can't be done."
"Tell me what you want," Ron directed, he wasn't letting go.
"I want…"Gary began from his position by the window, "I would like to go back with you."
Ron smiled, "You know what these portals are like Gary, I could only get through when there was a bomb, you always could though, come back with me then."
Gary was irritated, "You know that I can't," he snapped, "Not without a chip, they would shoot me."
"What if you had a chip, what then?" Ron asked leaning back in his chair.
Gary was not just irritated, he was tormented and angry, "I hope there's a point to all this."
"Just answer me, what would you do if I said that I could get a chip?" Ron persisted.
"I would say that I still can't come since I don't want to go to war." Gary replied.
"We can get round that!" Ron said smirking, "A little glitch that is Gary, teeny little problem."
"Have you gone senile in your old age or are you just drunk?" Gary snapped at Ron.
Ron looked hurt, more so than he would have done in the nineties, it ruined Gary's anger. He took a deep breath, "What I want is not to be alone anymore, not to be parted from those I care about." he said hoping that he was still being suitably vague about Xavier.
"You could live at the Mayfair flat, it would be just like old times; though I would hope you'd treat me better than before." Ron said brightly.
"What about the country house?" Gary asked.
Ron decided to purposely misunderstand, "Oh, that will be fine, Xavier's looking after things there." He answered watching Gary's face.
Gary tried not to let his face fall in disappointment but didn't quite succeed, "I would like to meet him again." Gary blurted before he thought better of it.
Ron's face was stern, "Why would I let you anywhere near my son Gary Sparrow?" He hissed.
"No, of course you wouldn't." Gary said suddenly very interested in the goings on outside. "Do you think he might want to see me?" Gary asked hardly thinking he could bare the answer.
"I don't know," Ron replied casually, "He has never mentioned you since your visit." Ron continued to watch Gary's reaction and was satisfied with what he saw, "So are you coming with me then?" he asked joining Gary by the window and filling his cup with more tea before withdrawing again.
"You can get a chip, you were serious?"
"I've got one in my case." Ron answered smugly.
Gary chose to ignore the implication of Ron's foresight and some other details that were nagging his mind; there was one thing he had to be sure of. "The war thing won't be a problem?"
"No, I have a plan." Ron replied confidently.
Gary decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, surely Ron wouldn't torture him this way and surely he would only say all this if it were going to happen. Gary couldn't think how Ron had managed to get round the problem of war, his head was getting very light and he was feeling very sleepy. "We can't live in Mayfair," Gary said suddenly thinking of another angle through the haze, "It might get blown up, London is no place to be, too many bombs."
"I suppose you're right," Ron conceded, "I'll rent a place somewhere else, a lot of people are leaving and renting places out now, should get something of a decent size easily."
Gary managed to struggle against the crippling fatigue and look suitably deflated.
"What provision did you make for the discovery of your suicide?" Ron asked.
Gary rubbed his eyes struggling to stay standing and not sink to the floor and fall asleep, "Er…Will made after Phoebe died…posted letter to Reg on the way to the bridge." Gary looked into his tea as if he expected to see the guilty substance, as realisation dawned in his fuzzy mind. "You've drugged my tea." Gary accused.
"Would I do a thing like that?" Ron asked grinning from ear to ear.
"Yes, you would," Gary answered trying his best to panic and stay awake, would Ron be gone when he woke, he thought. What had he given him and would he wake at all? "We still have things to talk about."
"No, Gary," Ron said stepping towards him, "We've said all that needs to be said."
"No, you can't do this, you're leaving tomorrow."
"Yes, Gary I am," Ron said taking Gary firmly by the arm, "Come on, over to the bed before you fall over."
Gary complied, he could feel his resistance melting away; he had heard about this kind of thing happening to people, girls in clubs, dragged out looking drunk against their will, unable to resist. He didn't know his friend at all anymore, he had expected something from Ron, he was angry with him for the affair with Xavier but he had never expected anything like this. He slumped on the bed, Ron took his shoes off; Ron pulled Gary to his feet and pulled the covers back then dropped him back down.
"Get in," Ron commanded, "On your front."
Gary did as he was told, somehow he wasn't asleep yet but his body felt so heavy as he struggled to get into the bed; Ron stroked a hand briefly through his hair.
"Just relax Gary, I won't hurt you." Ron said. Gary lay submissively on his front as Ron took his time over removing his clothes, he didn't even flinch as his trousers were slid over his legs. He felt as if he were floating above the bed, he couldn't feel the pressure of it beneath him. Ron briefly left his side and Gary closed his eyes. A moment later his arm was lifted and he felt a sharp pain in his elbow, then the darkness finally engulfed him.