Summary: The guys forget Mark's birthday three years in a row. Mark doesn't mind. But the third time they do something which could not only ruin the band, but also their friendship. Can they make up again?

Remark: There will be three parts

1.

The first time Mark's birthday was forgotten was in 1978. Instead of being at home with his friends celebrating his birthday, as you would expect on his birthday, Mark was sitting in court. Mark wore a dark green suit, a white shirt and a gold and green striped tie. He sat next to his lawyer while John, Pick and David sat in the back rows of spectators. Mark kept turning around to see his friends. He didn't want to see his wife. Holly was also sitting next to her lawyer in the other courtroom bench. They were getting divorced today. Mark had been trying to hold back his tears the whole time. He loved this woman with all his heart, but she hated him and never wanted to see him again. The trial had been going on for four hours and Mark was tired. He just wanted to get this over. He leaned over to his lawyer.

"How long will this take?" Peter, a friend of his father, smiled sadly at him. Peter had actually already retired, but he had promised Mark that he would represent him in this case.

"One hour, I think. You can go if you want, Mark. You don't have to be here." Knopfler sighed deeply and looked over at his wife, who was grinning mischievously at him.

"No. I...don't want to do her that favor." Peter nodded in agreement. It went on like this for a while before Holly stood at the judge's table and signed the divorce papers.

"Now all that's missing is your signature, Mr. Knopfler." The judge said politely. Mark sighed deeply and stood up. He caught John's sad eyes. They had only known each other for a few months, but John had become a good friend. Holly threw the pen at him. Mark sighed and bent over the paper. His eyes darted over it and read what was written on it.

"For heaven's sake, Mark! Sign it already!" Holly shouted angrily. "I don't want you in my life anymore, damn it! You're useless and..."

"I'm allowed to read what I'm signing, right?" Mark hissed angrily at her. Tears shimmered in his eyes. "You'll have to wait those five minutes, damn it." Mark needed a few more moments before he took a deep breath and signed his name. He put the pen on the paper and sighed deeply. "I hope you're happy now." Mark said and his voice broke. A tear ran down his cheek. Holly looked at him sadly.

"Mark..."

"Leave me alone, damn it. You wanted this. Now you can be happy. I'm useless." Mark turned around and left the courtroom. John, Pick and David ran after him.

"Mark." John said sadly and put an arm around Mark's shoulders. The younger one tried to hold back his sobs.

"John, I love her." He whispered.

"I know." John breathed sympathetically and stroked Mark's shoulder. The smaller man took a deep breath.

"Today wasn't a good day. Do you... have anything else planned?" He asked carefully. He had hoped all day that his friends would remember his birthday. Even though he had to spend his birthday in court.

"No." Pick said. "Why would we? Today's Thursday, buddy." He laughed. "I'm going home now, okay?" With that he said goodbye.

"John and I are going home too. John wants to show me something he composed on the bass." David said. John waved to Mark and the two walked to a car. Mark stood sadly on the sidewalk. His shoulders slumped as he angrily opened his tie and the first few buttons of his shirt. Mark screamed angrily and kicked a tree in frustration.

*

2.

The second time Mark's birthday was forgotten was in 1979. The guys had spent the whole day preparing to give a concert. Their first record had been a huge success and now they were often selling out the bars they played in. That evening they had played at the Rockpalast. The gig hadn't been very special, but it was important. Afterwards they found themselves backstage. Mark was sitting on an armchair, sighing and holding a beer bottle. His birthday had been forgotten. Why didn't he say anything? Well... it wasn't important. Apparently it wasn't important, otherwise the guys would have congratulated him, right? Mark tried to hold back his tears and took a deep breath. You're a grown man! Why the hell would you cry about something like that!? Pull yourself together! You're not 10 years old anymore! John, who was holding a beer in his hand, sat down next to Mark and put his arm around him. The singer turned his head and tried to smile at him. But John could see that the younger man had watery eyes.

"What's wrong, mate?" He asked worriedly. "Is it because of the performance? Don't worry, you were great." Mark smiled gently. John was just too nice. The bassist rubbed his shoulder with his thumb and grinned. "Do you have any plans tonight?"

"No." Mark said, biting his lower lip.

"Maybe we can go to a bar or something? I have to go to work tomorrow, but... you know how it is." The bassist giggled. Mark smiled gently. John had become his best friend. The big poodle was just so quiet and was a good listener. But he was always there when you needed him.

"Hey! John! We're leaving now! Come on!" Pick called from the door.

"Where are you going?" John asked, bewildered, and stood up.

"We have to celebrate our success!" David called excitedly, putting an arm around Pick's shoulders with a grin. John smiled and stood up to put on his jacket.

"Mark? Are you coming?" He asked. The singer sighed and stood up too. Maybe he could spend a nice evening with the guys. Just as the guitarist was about to put on his jacket, one of the Rockpalast technicians grabbed his arm.

"And who's going to clean up after you?" He asked angrily, pointing to the stage where the instruments, cables, amplifiers and microphones were. Mark turned his head and looked at his friends.

"Not me!" Shouted Pick and raised his arms. "I cleaned up last time!"

"Me neither!" Shouted David and put his index finger on his nose. John laughed and imitated him. Mark rolled his eyes. They were like little children. "Looks like it's your turn, big brother." David teased. Mark sighed deeply.

"All right. See you around." With that, he walked to the concert hall with his shoulders slumped. John looked after him worriedly.

"Go ahead, I'll follow later, okay?" He asked the other two band members and ran after Mark. "Hey! Mark!" He put a hand on the guitarist's shoulder and turned him around. Mark looked at him with sad eyes. "You don't have to do this alone. I can help you." John was just about to take off his jacket when Mark stopped him.

"Thanks, John. I really appreciate that. But you had to clean up by yourself last time. I didn't help last time."

"Because you literally fell asleep while standing upright." John giggled. "It really wasn't that bad. Come on, I'll help you." John took a microphone from the stand, but Mark stopped him.

"Please, John. Just go with the others and have fun, okay? I don't want you to feel taken advantage of." The bassist lowered his hand and looked at the guitarist suspiciously.

"I don't, Mark. What makes you think I would feel taken advantage of?" Mark sighed loudly.

"Just go with the others, okay?" He asked a little angrily. John's expression hardened. He nodded and put his jacket back on.

"All right. See you next week then." With that, he left the room and shortly afterwards Mark was alone. Mark felt tears in his eyes as he sat down on the drum stand and put his head in his hands. Damn, what had he done? Why had he snapped at John? He had only wanted to help.

*

3.

The third time Mark's birthday was forgotten happened in 1980. The band was in the middle of recording their new album. The weather outside was bad and Mark was pretty ill, but he decided to show up for the recording anyway. He had a cold and his nose was blocked because autumn had already started in August. Good English weather, which meant rain after rain. Added to that was a cold wind from the coast and occasional hail. The guitarist was wrapped in a thick winter coat. A fluffy scarf wrapped around his neck as he made his way to the studio. Today it was that time again. It was his birthday. The 31st to be precise. He hadn't celebrated his 30th, nor his 29th. Mark sighed deeply. 31 was nothing special, was it? He had probably been forgotten again, so he didn't have too many illusions. The only people who had congratulated him were his parents and his grandmother. Mark sighed and entered the studio. Suddenly, arms wrapped around his waist and a cloth was tied around his eyes. Mark thrashed around wildly.

"Calm down, man! It's us!" He heard Pick shout. Mark stopped trashing.

"What the hell? Take that ting of my eyes! What's going on!?" He shouted, a little anxiously. Not being able to see often made him anxious, even when he had to walk through his apartment in the dark.

"We have a surprise for you." David giggled. Mark's eyes widened under the cloth. Damn, they hadn't forgotten!? Mark's heart was pounding in his chest and a grin formed on his lips. They hadn't forgotten! They hadn't forgotten and they were going to celebrate his birthday today! Mark felt the hands withdraw from his waist and move to his hips, before he was forced to walk. He stretched his arms out in front of him and padded across the room, the hands on his hips guiding him.

"What's all this, guys?" Mark laughed excitedly. God, he hadn't felt this excited since he was a kid. What had they prepared? A cake? Balloons? Mark couldn't wait. Whatever it was, he would be happy about it!

"We need to talk to you about something and to keep things from being too serious, we wanted to start it off with a fun introduction." Pick said. Suddenly the cloth was removed from Mark's eyes, as were the hands from his hips. The guitarist blinked against the bright light in the room and rubbed his eyes dazedly before his gaze turned to the desk in front of him. There was a black t-shirt on the table. It was folded neatly so Mark could only see the round neckline.

"Is this for me?" Mark asked excitedly, pointing to the black fabric. John, Pick and David looked at each other briefly and then nodded silently. Mark smiled excitedly. "Thanks guys! That wasn't necessary!" Mark went up to Pick and hugged him tightly before repeating the process with John.

"You don't even know what it is." John said, biting his lower lip in concern. Damn, Pick and David had thought the whole thing up and John had had a bad feeling about it the whole time. Seeing Mark happy only made it worse.

"I don't care at all!" Mark shouted, giggling. "It's from you, so it must be something great! Besides, it's a T-shirt and..." Mark took the T-shirt in his hand and held it in front of his face.

"Wait!" John shouted angrily and tried to stop him from unfolding it, but it was too late. Silence spread through the room. Mark held the black fabric in front of his face and looked in shock at the white writing printed on it. In italics it said:

Once an asshole, always an asshole. So I'm still one.

Mark blinked a few times and tried to make sure he was just imagining what he was seeing.

"Guys?" He asked carefully and turned to look at the three musicians. John's face was red and he looked guiltily at the floor. He couldn't muster the courage to look into Mark's eyes. Not now.

"Mark, in short: you've really been getting on our nerves lately." Pick said. The guitarist swallowed and lowered his hands, in which he was still holding the fabric. His fingers tightened a little in it. "You boss us around all the time and no matter what we do, you're never satisfied with it. You don't accept criticism of your work and you drive us crazy. You've become a real asshole."

"Pick!" John hissed tensely.

"What?" Asked the drummer, annoyed. "I thought we decided to reveal the cards?"

"But not like that." John muttered worriedly. He still didn't dare to look up from the floor.

"You agreed just as much as I and Pick did, so don't play the saint here, John." David complained. "Mark, you're just annoying. Pick's right, you've become a real asshole. We just wanted to show you the whole thing with this T-shirt." Mark felt tears forming in his eyes. His heart was still beating wildly in his chest, but now with sadness. He lowered his head and looked at the floor.

"I'm sorry." He squeaked quietly. "I didn't mean to treat you badly."

"Well, you did!" Pick hissed. John pushed the drummer aside angrily.

"Stop it, Pick." He growled.

"What? He should know the truth!" Pick shouted, throwing his arms in the air in anger.

"But why do you have to tell him like that? I told you from the start that this was a stupid idea. Look! He's close to tears!" John said. Mark stood silently in the room. He had his arms stretched out in front of him again and looked down at the T-shirt. The more often his eyes darted over the letters, the more his heart hurt. It felt like someone had pierced it with a knife. You've become an asshole, these words repeated themselves over and over in Mark's head. Mark tried to hold back his tears, but it proved impossible. While Pick, David and John were still arguing, Mark let out a tortured whimper that immediately ended the argument. All three musicians looked at him. Mark's hands were visibly shaking, even though he hid them in the fabric. "Mark?" John asked worriedly, reaching out his hand to him, but the guitarist backed away.

"I'm sorry." He sniffed loudly and raised his hand to quickly wipe the tears from his cheeks. His lower lip trembled violently as he tried not to break down completely. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean for you to feel uncomfortable in my presence..." Mark took a deep breath. "You should've told me how you feel sooner. I swear I would've changed my behavior sooner, if I'd known." Mark took a shuddering breath. His whimpering had turned into sobs. Tears rolled from his eyes, which he desperately tried to wipe away. His shoulders trembled as he gasped for air between speaking. John looked at him worriedly. He hadn't seen Mark like this before. Sure, he had seen him cry before, but never like this.

"Oh Mark." John sighed sadly.

"I'm sorry." The guitarist whimpered weakly. He lifted the shirt again, shaking, and looked at the writing again.

"The fact that you're sorry doesn't change the situation." David said dryly. "The record is supposed to be finished in two months and no matter what we do, you never like it."

"Do you want to replace me?" Mark whimpered and again wiped tears from his cheeks, shaking. The left sleeve of his coat was already soaked. John couldn't bear to look at the whole thing anymore. Seeing Mark so broken made him feel like throwing up.

"No! Of course not, Mark! None of us wants to replace you!" John shouted desperately. "There's no guitarist or singer who could replace you!"

"I... I'm just an asshole." Mark sobbed and tried to get air into his lungs between sobs.

"Mark." John said sadly. "You're not. Pick and David have gone too far again, you know them." The bassist stretched out his arms to the guitarist, but he flinched back again.

"Please don't touch me." Mark whimpered weakly.

"Mark, you have to calm down." John said worriedly. "Your lips are already blue from lack of oxygen. Please, take a deep breath, otherwise you'll faint."

"Leave me alone!" Mark screamed angrily and tried to push the bassist away.

"Mark, we're sorry." Pick said worriedly. He hadn't thought the whole thing would turn out like this. He and David had actually bought the T-shirt because they thought Mark would laugh about it and they would all make up. They hadn't thought they would find themselves in such a situation.

"Why are you doing this?" Mark sobbed. "Why today?"

"What do you mean?" David asked in surprise. Mark sobbed weakly.

"I hate you!" He threw the shirt in his brother's face. "You know what!? I'm leaving the band!"

"Mark! You can't do that!" Pick shouted in shock.

"I'm an asshole, so I can do anything!" Mark screamed, sobbing. "See how far you can get without me!" Mark grabbed his guitar case.

"Mark, calm down for heaven's sake. You're going to faint any second. At least breathe!" The bassist exclaimed worriedly as he saw Mark swaying on his feet.

"You know what!? Kiss my ass! You're not really my friends anyway!" Mark shouted and wiped tears from his cheeks again before storming out of the studio. It was quiet for a while. Pick opened his mouth and took a breath to speak, but John stopped him:

"Shut up, Pick!" He shouted angrily and held out his arm. "Just shut up."