Thank you everyone for your lovely reviews! Heleni0, Starr123, gemS, Thyqua, Amy, Lauren, Vixi89, dinabar, Em and Lizzi, glad you all liked the first part, hopefully this one will be of the same standard! I'm not sure quite how much longer this is going to be, but there'll probably be between another 1-3 parts, we'll see :)

One last thing: in between revision sessions today I've been writing a series of short oneshots under the title of 'School Reports'. I don't know if anyone has done anything like this before, but basically it's a series of school reports of Harry and Nikki's, from various different times in their school careers, and based on what I think they would have been like at school- lighthearted revision relief, really :) It's a bit different so I don't want to put it up unless someone's going to read it, so please let me know if you're interested :) and let me know what you think of this, too!

Love Flossie xxx

PS- Thyqua, no, not based on my own drunken experiences, don't worry! All entirely fictional :)

Sheila goes out with her mate Stella,

Gets poured all over her fella,

Because she says that he ain't no better,

Than the next man kicking up fuss,

Drunk, she stumbles down by a river,

Screams calling 'London',

But none of us heard her coming,

Guess the carpet weren't rolled out.

"Nikki!" Andrew greeted her as she walked through the doors of the restaurant at 7.42; a new personal record in terms of arriving at places on time, even if she was over 10 minutes late. "Good day?" he asked, kissing her on the cheek.

Nikki shrugged. "OK, I suppose." She never spoke about work with her boyfriends, which was one of her rules about dating she refused to break, no matter what the circumstances. She'd learned over the years that should she start talking about vertical incisions and liver dissections over dinner, they rarely came back for another date. "How was yours?"

"Good," he told her, before taking her hand and guiding her towards the waitress at the front desk. "We've got a reservation for 7.30, under the name Davis?"

She had thought it had gone well at the time, the date. She'd laughed at his jokes, listened to his stories about work, answered his questions about hers… what more could she have done? OK, so she had hastily moved on when Andrew had asked about her family, telling him her mother had died when she was a teenager and left it at that, but that wasn't enough to put someone off her for good, was it? It couldn't be.

Maybe you're just unlovable, you muse to yourself as the rain continues to pour. Maybe that's why you've found yourself so alone, because something about you drives people away, stops them wanting to have anything to do with you. Except… but no, he still hasn't phoned you back. Maybe he's been trying to get rid of you for years, but he just hasn't known how to do it without making things awkward at work. You don't want to believe it, you really don't, but you're still intoxicated, and rational thought is next to impossible. In fact, the only things you seem to be able to think about in your current state are how depressed you feel and how badly you want to be tucked up in bed, warm and dry. Except you don't think there's much chance of that happening any time soon, because now you think about it, you're not entirely sure where you are.

The realisation that you're lost by a swamp of a river in the middle of nowhere in London at… 2.47 in the morning is starting to hit home, and suddenly you're scared. Why did you think this was a good idea? It's quite possibly the stupidest thing you've ever done. You're a pathologist for god's sake, how many times have you been called out to this sort of place before, as a crime scene? You should know better than this, you should have just gone home after your date with Andrew fell to pieces and drowned your sorrows there over a bottle of red, like you usually do? Safer, warmer, drier, and nicer wine; why didn't you just do that? Why did you let everything get so horribly out of control?

"So, back to your place?" Andrew asked Nikki a few hours later. They had finished their meal and were just waiting for the bill, the evening having gone rather successfully, or so Nikki had thought.

Nikki paused. The two of them hadn't actually visited each other's houses yet; their dates had been limited to nights out at restaurants or bars. But what could be the harm? She was serious about Andrew… wasn't she? It was only week 2, but she wouldn't be wasting her time on him if she couldn't see herself maybe having a future with him… would she? No, she decided, she wouldn't.

"OK, sure," she smiled. "But just for coffee, yeah?"

Andrew just sighed. "Just for coffee? How long are you going to put me off, Nikki?" he asked, a hint of anger beginning to emerge in his voice. "How long are you going to make me wait?"

"Wh-what?" Nikki was almost too shocked to reply. Was this all the last 2 weeks had been about for him, getting her in bed?

"Andrew, relationships aren't all about sex you know, there's so much more to it than that…" she began, but he cut her off.

"Oh, so you don't want to? Well, why are we wasting our time then?" he asked, his voice rising slightly in volume.

"No, I didn't mean it like that-" Nikki tried to tell him, but Andrew didn't seem to want to listen.

"You mean I've spent 2 weeks wasting my time on dates, and I'm not even going to get a reward at the end of it?"

"You think of sex as a reward?" Nikki was fuming now. "You think of sex as a reward for going on dates with me? This isn't about me at all, is it? You just want sex, no strings attached!"

"Oh Nikki come on, you don't really think we're going to work out, do you?" Andrew laughed. "We're completely different people- we get on- but that's it, and anyway, I'm not ready for commitment. So let's just have a good time tonight and leave it at that, yeah?"

Looking back at it now, you don't know how you managed to find the strength to walk out of there with your head held high, keeping the tears at bay and preserving your dignity, but somehow you did. But then again, practise does make perfect, and practise at this kind of thing is something you've had plenty of over the years. You've had plenty of practice at storming out of public places after bad break-ups in your lifetime, but never before have you had somebody tell you so openly that they were only with you in the first place because they wanted unconditional sex, no strings attached and no commitment necessary. The cheek of it… you want to be angry, but you can't; you're too busy feeling deceived and stupid and blind and used… the list just seems to go on. Why didn't you see that he was only seeing you because he wanted sex? Why did you have to be so blind? But you know why; because you wanted to believe that somebody loved you, because you wanted to feel emotionally secure, just this once. You wanted to believe that you might finally have a chance of a happy and stable future, of settling down with someone, but once again you were wrong. You're always wrong, when it comes to your relationships. Maybe that's why you and Harry get on so well, because the same could be said about him. Because you each know that the other will understand, that they'll be there when this kind of thing happens, that your relationship can be a constant, running alongside the strings of inappropriate partners and failed relationships, always there to rely on. Or not, as the case may be.

You try not to think about why he still hasn't turned up, hasn't even called. You tell yourself it's because it's the middle of the night and he's fast asleep, oblivious, but it doesn't make sense. You've tried both the house phone and his mobile- even called the lab a few times, just to be sure- but he's not picking up. He's always been good in an emergency before, always been there to comfort you whatever the hour, so why isn't he coming now? Maybe he's finally got sick of you, seen you for the clingy, emotionally unstable, sorry excuse for a best friend you really are, can't be bothered to waste anymore of his time. Maybe you should call someone else, get them to rescue you instead. Yes, that will be best, you tell yourself. You'll call someone else; you don't need Harry, not if he doesn't want you. You've got other friends, you'll show him. You'll show him.

Except you haven't, you realise, as you scroll through the names in your phonebook. Andrew is first, so you hold down the delete key, erasing him from your life forever, before moving on. Catharine? No, you barely see her nowadays; you can't call in the middle of the night out of the blue. Diana; same story. You keep on scrolling, trying not to linger on his name for too long as you pass through the 'h's in into the 'j's. Janet? If you're going to call Janet, you might as well call Leo, you decide. But you know it's their night off tonight; the only night of the week on which neither of them are on call, and you don't want to disturb them, not now you've convinced yourself that Leo only hired you out of convenience and hasn't been able to shake you out of his life since. Maybe Janet's only being nice to you for his sake, not wanting to make things difficult for him at work. The alcohol won't let you think any different, won't let you see sense. It's a vicious circle, one which you know you won't be able to escape from until you sober up. And somehow, you can't see that happening any time soon.