For all my lovely reviewers and for all the people I made cry last time, sorry. I'm not promising not to do it again though… THANKS


Chapter Sixteen

Thursday 30th May

'You will never understand how it feels to live your life

With no meaning or control and with nowhere left to go,'

It was a bar Harry hadn't been into before, but it wasn't as if he was really paying attention to the surroundings, he couldn't stop long. He knew just as Beto did that he really needed to be out of his apartment for a while but he felt bad, this was Beto's first night back in the City, he shouldn't gate crash his friends' reunion. Besides it was a Thursday night and he HAD to go to work tomorrow.

One drink that was all; one drink. Jorge pulled out a chair from a small round table and plonked Harry into it and then went to order the drinks. Harry watched his two friends at the bar together. It all seemed so easy for them despite their long separation, despite all their differences, they worked as a couple. They were IN love. And yet they'd let him tag along tonight as if it were the most natural thing in the world. It had been a while since he'd had friends take care of him like this.

"Leo!" Harry sighed and began picking at a beer mat.

"Try that," Beto said putting a bottle of Sam Adam's in his hand.

"Thanks," Harry replied.

They sat quietly for a while; it was one of the few bars Harry had visited that didn't have a different sport showing on a massive screen in every corner, or an overwhelming sound system, so the quietness was a novelty. Molly's didn't show all the sport but Jorge and Beto refused to go there with him. There was a song playing quietly he recognised, a distinctive 80's beat but he couldn't make out the words.

"How many people do you think the average person watches die?" Harry asked taking another pull on his beer.

"Pardon?" Beto put down his bottle and stared at Harry. "You weren't in Afghanistan were you?" he asked, looking to Jorge to fill in the information that he was missing about what was bothering his friend.

"In an average person's life span how many people do you think they will actually witness dying?" Harry clarified.

"But you're a doctor, didn't you say you were a pathologist you worked with dead bodies all the time," Jorge said.

"Ah, but they're already dead. How many people do you think it would be normal to see in the act of dying?"

"Well it would depend wouldn't it," said Beto clearly becoming uncomfortable. "I'm not intending to make this into some distasteful competition."

"No, sorry I didn't mean that," Harry added hurriedly remembering a story that Jorge had told him about Beto witnessing his own father's death. Growing up in a family with drug connections in Colombia, it must have been like living through a war. "Most people might be with their partner, maybe an elderly parent when they pass on. But Nikki…she's seen… she's seen…" Harry gave up and looked for support from the concerned faces of his friends. "Too much," he added and took another swig of his beer.

"And you?" Beto asked after a while.

Harry looked up shocked. He was talking about Nikki not himself.

"And you?" Beto repeated.

Harry pulled his hand through his hair and wiped it across his eyes as he recalled a variety of violent ends, gun shots, buses, stabbings, fire. He could feel his stomach begin to churn. He couldn't remember when he'd last eaten so at least he wasn't going to be sick.

"More than most?" Jorge suggested looking at the sadness that it was impossible for Harry to disguise.

Harry nodded.

"And your old boss?"

"Thank God I wasn't there." Harry muttered.

"Yes indeed," said Beto making the sign of the cross. "You would have probably got yourself blown up too."

Harry just stared at his friend. There was so much it seemed he didn't know about him. How had he not noticed it before Beto went back to Colombia? Beto was right. AGAIN! What had Nikki said? That Jack had held on to her so tightly she wasn't able to get to Leo. Would he have had the presence of mind to have done that? He was more likely to have tried to pull Leo away and get them all killed. His friends were still staring at him, obviously waiting for him to say something.

"He was a good man, my old boss. Sometimes misguided, sometimes annoying but fundamentally one of the kindest and most inspiring men I've ever met." Harry said.

"And he sacrificed himself to save Nikki?" Beto asked.

"And many others…"

"So he would have been happy?" Jorge suggested.

"Happy? I don't think that's the word."

"Satisfecho," Beto said.

"If you say so," Harry replied with a shrug. Despite what Beto had said earlier, his Spanish was rubbish. He'd gotten out of his flat for a while, but he'd had enough now. He wanted to go back. "To Janos," Harry toasted raising his beer. His brain finally registering the song he'd heard earlier; 'Common People.'

"I thought your boss was called Leo?" Jorge questioned.

"I don't want to hear the whole list," said Beto with a determined look. He'd tried to get Harry out of his bad place, not make it worse.

"Absent friends then," Harry raised his bottle again.

"Absent friends," the friends toasted. Harry knocked his beer back finishing all that was left in one go.

"I think I ought to go now. It's great to have you back Beto. I might be able to risk the lift and not take the stairs so often." Beto looked towards Jorge who just shrugged, translated "elevator," and threw his hands in the air.

"Night Harry. Do you want me to call you in the morning, make sure you get to work?" Harry was startled again at the open friendship of the men in front of him.

"I'm sure I'll be fine, but that might not be a bad idea. Thanks."

"She'll be ok you know," Jorge added.

"I hope you're right," Harry agreed with a shudder. How were either of them ever going to be ok again?

"Thanks," he repeated, at a loss really to know how to leave. It needed something more than that but a handshake would be ridiculous. Kissing them would be more Colombian style but not Harry's.

"I'll talk to you in the morning," Jorge said and smiled.

"Good night then," replied Harry and hurried out of the bar, realising as he did so that he'd not said goodbye. It was just like Skyping Nikki.


Common People: Pulp