Jesus god I need to get a life…

"It'll be good for you."

To me, this statement from Leo (Legacy part 1) was an obvious reference to Nikki's 'post-Harry blues'. It made me wonder if maybe something happened to really make Leo see how much she's hurting.

To: Leo Dalton

Subject: New starts!

Leo and co,

Hope this finds you guys well and coping ok without me. Have there been changes? I know you were scheduled for another meeting with the bigwigs, Leo, If change is what they want, I'm sure you'll have no problem adapting. Speaking of which I'm settling in well over here. The job is very different of course, much more focus on academia and I'm quite surprised to find I'm enjoying it. Very warm welcome from staff and students alike, though I think they only want me for my accent…

The post mortems I carry out are mainly for teaching purposes and I'm finding that even I am learning as I go. New York itself, is just how it seems in the films…bloody noisy!

Hope to hear from you soon.

Best wishes to you all,

Harry.

The final two syllables had hung in the air, as if echoing, in the silent space of his office, bouncing from heeding face to face. It had felt somehow anti-climatic, he hadn't quite reflected the nervous excitement you had no doubt Harry had been typing with. An absolute must in the profession you shared with him, Leo was an expert at tactfulness and this situation was no different.

Sadly it didn't succeed in removing the sting, instead intensifying it, as a benzalkonium chloride wipe may feel on a raw and open wound.

But it wasn't the email itself that stung. Or the emotions – or lack thereof – held within it.

It was the receiver.

Leo Dalton.

The acknowledgement – again, or lack thereof.

Leo and co.

Had you not existed?

Had you not mattered?

Had he not cared?

The feeling that had usually only been a visitor of yours in the dead of night, away from prying eyes, at home, in the dark, was making itself known, crawling its treacherous, well-worn path from your heart into your lungs, holding them mercilessly in its grasp until you could barely breathe, to your lips, where it carefully took all control, seizing it from them until they are shaking uncontrollably, to your eyes, where the visitor gives way to the tides and tears brim at the edges. And the more you had blinked, the less you could see and the harder it was to regain composure. Impossible. In the end you had given up. So you had turned and slowly slipped from the room, fully aware that the eyes of the rest of the team were on you until you reached the locker room and closed the door behind you.

A knock. A knock. A gentle, gentle knock. Nikki? You lay facing the ceiling, back flat against the bench, arms raised, elbows locked at 30 degrees, hands locked together on your forehead, eyes tightly closed. It was just fatigue, that was all. Just fatigue.

Leo, in the door way, you saw him as you opened your eyes, an aching pain in your back where the wooden bars of the benches met with your bones. Are you okay?

Yeah. You had managed to sound fairly convincing you thought. Not even the slightest break in your words, though your expressionless face perhaps gave you away. Just tired. You insisted, I'm fine, really.

We're all adding a bit each to Harry's reply, Leo informed you and you had felt a little bit of fury mix with your heart-stricken grief. They were all so proud of him. So in awe. Little Harry, off to live the dream and become a success. They were still rallying round him even when he was thousands of miles away. He would have loved it, you thought. To know that he had caused such a fuss. To know that even if he didn't, they would never let you forget him. I don't think he'd really care to hear from me. Your lip shook again and you felt Leo's weight on the bench above your head.

Come on now, don't be such…such a girl. His reply had been, a hint of humour there somewhere.

Then you had realised what a bitter, twisted old women you had become. You had told him to go. He had obeyed, and now you were resenting him for it. Somehow that didn't add up. But in the addled, troubled, and in love mind of a woman, of course it was perfectly reasonable to hate him. He should have known you well enough to know to do the opposite of what you said…on occasion.

Then you realised that was impossible. What was worse, your heartbreak was transforming your memory of him into a man you barely recognised. A selfish, hard-bitten, tactless monster when in fact he was none of those things.

It's easier to hate him. You had whispered your reply, so as not to waken the tears from their dormancy and you felt Leo's hand lightly on your arm. He was a wise man, such a wise, wise man, and he was to prove that to you now.

Think about what you just said. He said quietly and you frowned, still wallowing in your self-indulgent state, draped across the benches. If you're finding this easy, then I dread to think how you feel the rest of the time.

And you realise he's right. As usual. Perhaps if you had the strength and ability to be happy for him, life would become a bit easier for you, too. Surely to find peace in someone else's fulfilment, to smile at their successes and rejoice for their happiness, was the only kind of love that really existed. Love in its truest of forms.

His grip on your arm tightens and then he lets go completely; a squeeze of encouragement. You'll get there, Nikki. I'll help in any way I can. He smiles and you know immediately why you confided in him in Hungary. You give a sigh and stretch slightly, pushing the bad feeling down as far as you can and reply; If only everyone was like you, Leo. He gives a small chuckle and leaves you alone with your thoughts.