Summary:  It's a few days before Christmas and Mark tries to head home in time. What he doesn't know yet: It was a terrible mistake to not stop by at a hotel over night.

Warning: Character death

Remark: I'm sorry

It was a Saturday evening in December 1986. Mark Knopfler was driving his car. On his way back from a meeting about a new record deal. About 150 miles from London, on his way home. It was December 23rd and he wanted to surprise his children at home by making it home for Christmas after all. Mark had been driving all day and stopped at a petrol station to fill up, buy a coffee and make a phone call. The thin guitarist was wrapped in a thick winter jacket as he stood next to his car and looked up at the fuel gauge. He had already filled up 15 liters of petrol. He shifted from one foot to the other, waiting impatiently for the car to fill up. Soon the time came. He closed the petrol cap and entered the petrol station. Mark paid for the petrol, bought himself a coffee and then went to the small telephone booth next to the petrol station. He threw a few coins in and tapped the keys with shaking fingers. It was very cold and a snowstorm was coming. Mark tucked the phone between his cheek and shoulder and warmed his hands on his coffee mug while he waited.

"Illsley." The voice said firmly. Mark smiled.

"Hey, love." He hummed.

"Mark?" The voice asked confusedly. Mark grinned.

"Does anyone else call you that besides me?" John laughed.

"Not that I would know. Where are you? Did something happen?" The bassist asked worriedly.

"No. Nothing happened. Everything is fine. I'm on my way back and had to get gas, so I thought I'd call home." Mark smiled and shifted from one foot to the other again to warm himself up a little.

"You're on your way back? But you're not supposed to be home until New Year's Eve." John said, dumbfounded. The guitarist grinned.

"Phil wanted to be home for Christmas himself, so he left the meeting early."

"When are you home?" Mark lowered his head and looked down at his watch. It was already 11 p.m.

"If everything goes well, I should be home in three hours." John smiled.

"Wait, I'll tell the kids and..."

"No, John!" Mark exclaimed immediately. "I don't want them to know. It's supposed to be a surprise." John smiled gently as he wrapped the phone cord around his hand. God, he loved his husband so much. They were soul mates. Everyone had a soul mate, his name on one wrist. Mark's was on his right, John's was on his left. They had met at university and now had two children together. George and Harriet. They thought it was funny and wanted to name their children after their first hit, but since Harriet wasn't a boy, Harry, the female form, became Harriet.

"Okay. They're already asleep anyway." John said quietly. "I love you. Be careful, okay? There's supposed to be a pretty strong storm out there."

"Mh." Mark hummed, leaning against the glass wall of the phone booth. "It's snowing really hard and it's damn cold."

"Pops, who are you talking to?" A sleepy voice asked loud enough for even Mark to hear on the other side of the connection. The guitarist held his breath.

"I'm on the phone with Grandpa, honey. Go back to sleep. It's very late." John said softly.

"But you never tell Grandpa you love him." The voice stated, confused. Mark giggled. His daughter was very intelligent.

"I do. Now go back to sleep, okay? It's very late and if you don't go to sleep now, you won't be able to build a snowman tomorrow." The little girl, just 5 years old, rubbed her eyes tiredly and yawned.

"I miss Dad." She said sadly. Mark felt his heart clench when he heard that.

"I know." John hummed. "I miss Dad too. But he'll be home soon, okay? Don't worry." Mark heard John kiss their daughter on the forehead. "I love you. Goodnight, my darling."

"Goodnight Pops. Love you too." There was silence on the line for a while.

"Is she in bed?" Mark asked quietly.

"Mh." John hummed. "She really misses you." Mark smiled gently.

"I miss you three a lot too. The last two weeks have been hell."

"Then why are you talking to me on the phone for so long, Mark Freuder Knopfler? Get your ass in the car and drive off!" The bassist joked. Mark giggled.

"All right. See you, love. I love you. Don't wait for me. I don't know how fast I can drive if the roads are icy." John hummed in agreement.

"All right. Take care of yourself, okay? I love you." Mark put the phone down and smiled a little before leaving the phone booth in a hurry to get back to his warm car as quickly as possible.

*

Mark had been driving for an hour. The snow was getting thicker and thicker. Instead of 100 km/h, he was now only driving 50 km/h because visibility simply didn't allow it. The car's windshield wipers were running at full speed. The guitarist had both hands on the steering wheel and was leaning forward slightly so he could see at all. He had turned off the car's headlights a long time ago because they had reflected the snow and made his vision even worse. Mark sighed in annoyance. It was late, he had a headache, he was hungry and tired. He just wanted to go home. What was so complicated about that? Maybe he should have looked for a hotel room and driven on in the morning, but he really wanted to see his family. The car rolled along slowly for a while before Mark got angry. Damn, he finally wanted to move on. He shifted down a gear and pressed the accelerator. The car drove off. Mark shifted up a gear again and concentrated on the road. There was absolutely nothing going on. It was pitch black. He was in the middle of nowhere. Mark didn't really know where he was. Half an hour from London, he would estimate. Mark sighed in annoyance when he suddenly noticed the car skidding. He had driven onto a patch of ice. His blue eyes widened as his heart began to speed up and he gripped the steering wheel tightly. He held it straight and immediately took his foot off the accelerator. But it didn't help. The car spun quickly in circles, no matter what he tried to do about it, before it plunged into the snowy ditch and rolled over several times.

Mark groaned weakly as the car came to rest on its roof. He had hit his head on the steering wheel. The seatbelt had cut a deep cut through his throat and across his chest. Mark groaned loudly in pain. His right leg was trapped under the steering wheel, his left arm seemed to be broken. The guitarist tried to keep his eyes open in agony, but all he could see were shards of glass and blood. Damn, there was blood everywhere. Mark's vision blurred, no matter what he tried to do about it. The last thing he saw was the family photo stuck to the dashboard of the car.

*

When John woke up in the morning, he stretched in his marital bed, yawning. He was surprised to see that Mark wasn't home yet. A few minutes later, he was sitting at the breakfast table with the children. John tried not to show his concern. It was probably completely out of place. Mark had probably gone to a hotel to stay overnight. It had been a very strong and cold snowstorm.

"Pops?" George asked, raising his head to look at John. The bassist had to smile. The boy looked a lot like Mark. He had his dark blond hair and his sharp jaw. His eyes were brown, like John's. Harriet, on the other hand, had wild brown curls, but the bluest eyes John had ever seen. The same ones her father had. Both children were a perfect mix of the two.

"What's wrong?" John asked, looking at his son.

"When is Dad coming home?" John bit his lower lip. The 7-year-old was obviously waiting for an answer.

"On New Year's Eve. I already told you both."

"But I don't want a Christmas without Dad." The boy moaned. John smiled gently at him.

"We're going to have a nice Christmas, okay? Are you still hungry? Or are you full?"

"We're full." George said, jumping up from his chair before taking Harriet's hand and walking with her into the living room. Soon John could hear music. The two children loved watching MTV.

"Pops! Pops! Dad's on TV!" Harriet shouted with big blue eyes. John smiled as he also walked into the living room and saw his husband on the screen. It was Mark in an interview. To be precise, it was the interview that was recorded after Live Aid. The bassist felt his heart beat faster when he saw those beautiful blue eyes and heard that deep voice that had seduced him.

*

It was afternoon, 3pm to be exact, when the phone rang. John had fallen asleep in his reading chair. His book was still on his lap. He raised his head sleepily and sat up, yawning. The children were both lying on their bellies on the rug in front of the fireplace, drawing pictures together. Brothers in Arms was playing in the background and the bassist closed his eyes briefly to enjoy the beautiful music his husband had written before he remembered the phone. John smiled before getting up and answering the phone.

"Illsley." He yawned.

"This is St. Mary's Hospital." A woman's voice said. John raised an eyebrow.

"Hospital? I think you've dialled the wrong number."

"Am I with John Illsley and Mark Knopfler?"

"Yes." John said, nodding.

"Then I have the right number, sir. I have to ask you to come to the hospital."

"Why? What happened?" He asked, astonished. The woman took a deep breath.

"Sir, your husband was in a very serious car accident." The bassist's eyes widened in shock. "He's in surgery right now. We... the head doctor asked me to call you and... to ask you to come... to say goodbye." John's eyes widened. Tears gathered in his eyes and he put a hand over his mouth in shock.

"Excuse me? Say goodbye?"

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Illsley, I..." John immediately hung up the phone. His hands were shaking like leaves. He stared at his fingers. His lower lip trembled as he slid down the wall and began to sob. He clung desperately to the fabric of his pants. It wasn't more than a few seconds before he heard footsteps. Harriet hugged his leg and looked at him sadly.

"What's wrong, Pops?" She asked sadly. John didn't answer. He got up and called David. Damn, he had to talk to someone. It didn't matter who. Even though his husband and David had stopped speaking to each other, John still liked to meet up with his brother-in-law every now and then.

"Knopfler." He said after a while on the line. John couldn't answer. The only thing he could manage was sobbing. "Hello?"

"D...David." John sobbed.

"John? Is that you? What's wrong? Has something happened?"

"Mark...hospital...serious accident...I...say goodbye..." John sobbed so hard that he could hardly breathe and could only utter single words. Harriet was still hugging John's leg, but the bassist didn't notice.

"John, calm down. Breathe deeply." David said worriedly. "Tell me what happened."

"Mark is in the hospital. I'm supposed to come and say goodbye." John sobbed, gasping for air over and over. "I...the children..."

"Take them with you. We'll meet you there in a few minutes."

"But the children..."

"He's their father, John. If he...shit, if you have to say goodbye, then they should too. They have a right to." John took a sobbing breath and nodded before looking down at his children.

*

20 minutes later, the family was sitting in the hospital. David, Louisia, Erwin and Ruth Knopfler. Mark's parents and siblings. John Illsley and Harriet and George Knopfler-Illsley. John sobbed into Ruth's shoulder while the children didn't yet know what had happened. Louisia had taken her grandchildren on her lap and held them gently to her while tears rolled down her cheeks. The chances were high that she would lose her eldest son today. It was about two hours before a doctor came to the family. The children had already fallen asleep. Harriet was sleeping on her aunt's lap, George was sleeping on David's lap. John immediately stood up when he saw the doctor.

"Are you Mark Knopfler's family?" He asked quietly. All 6 adults nodded immediately.

"How is he?" John asked with bloodshot eyes.

"The operation is finished." The doctor bit his lower lip.

"Is he alive?" John whispered quietly. The doctor took a deep breath.

"For now, yes." He then said. "His left arm is broken, as are a few of his ribs. His right leg is sprained and he has a concussion because he hit his head on the steering wheel." John held his breath.

"But that's not the problem, right?" Erwin whispered.

"He's lost a lot of blood." Sighed the doctor. "The seatbelt had cut through his throat, as well as his chest. He was upside down in his car for about 2 hours, outside in the snowstorm, until a passing pedestrian noticed the car in the ditch and called the police." John put his hand over his mouth. "He's stable right now, but we'll have to wait and see. I don't want to make too many promises. It would be best...if you said goodbye while you still have the chance." John began to sob again. The doctor looked at him sadly. "I'm really very sorry, Mr. Illsley. I swear to you, I've done everything in my power. He's severely hypothermic. If he'd been found earlier, the chances would have been better and..."

"Is there another injury?" Ruth asked quietly as she looked at the doctor. The doctor looked at her sadly.

"His right eye is blind." John gasped sharply and stared at him. "Shards of glass from the windshield got in there. There wasn't much we could do for his eyesight. I'm sorry, Mr. Illsley. He had internal bleeding, he...probably won't make it, with all these injuries."

*

As the family entered the hospital room, John couldn't help but sob. Mark looked so small and frail, surrounded by all the glowing and beeping machines. The children were still asleep, Ruth and David holding them in their arms. John fell to the edge of the bed, sobbing, and took Mark's hand in his. Mark's eyes were closed, his body was wrapped in bandages, his lips looked quite dry. The machines around him kept him alive but as the doctor had said: He probably won't make it with all this injuries.

"Darling." John whispered, stroking the back of Mark's hand with his thumb. "I love you. Please, wake up and get through all this." John whimpered softly. They sat in silence for a while, everyone sitting down on chairs. John stroked Mark's hand over and over before he began to sing softly: "I am just an aging drummer boy. And in the wars I used to play, And I've called the tune to many a torture session. Now they say I am a war criminal. And I'm fading away. Father, please hear my confession. ... I have legalized robbery. And called it relief. I have run with the money. I have hid like a thief. Rewritten histories with armies and my crooks. Invented memories. I did burn all the books. And I can still hear his laughter. And I can still hear his song. The man's too big..."

"The man's too strong." Sang a weak, scratchy voice. John raised his head in shock and stared into Mark's eyes. The guitarist looked at him, drained and tired. John felt himself starting to cry again when he saw Mark's eyes. His left eye was shiny and opal blue, just as he knew and loved it. His right eye was light blue and cloudy. There was a white veil over his eye. He was blind in that eye. John began to sob and clung to Mark's hand.

"I love you so much." John sobbed.

"I love you too." Mark croaked weakly and then grimaced in pain. "I guess you..." Mark coughed in pain. John looked at him sadly. "I guess you're here to say goodbye." Tears streamed from John's eyes. He couldn't stop them. No matter how hard he tried. "Shit, John." Mark closed his eyes and breathed heavily. "It hurts. It hurts so much."

"I know." John whimpered and gently stroked the soul mark on Mark's wrist. "But you'll make it, can you hear me? You'll make it, you're strong and..."

"It was a good time, love." Mark croaked in a rough voice and looked at him with a weak smile. John choked on his sobs. "I loved every moment with you." Mark whispered quietly. "Just like I loved you and the kids." Mark took a pain-filled breath.

"Stop." John sobbed. "Stop saying goodbye." Mark looked at him sadly. "Please, stop." John reached out and rubbed his thumb gently on Mark's cheek. "I love you. I can't lose you. The kids can't lose you." Mark gave him a weak smile.

"They'll get over it." He breathed.

"Mark, you're their father. How will they get over it?" John sobbed. "How will I get over it!? You're my husband. My soul mate, my..."

"Sh." Mark whispered, holding John's hand tightly. "It's okay." Mark coughed again and blood ran down his lips. John stared at it in shock. Ruth kissed Mark's cheek and said goodbye. Erwin and David hugged him. Louisia cried bitterly as she kissed his cheeks. They left the room, leaving the family behind. George and Harriet had woken up and were staring down at their father with wide eyes. John sobbed weakly as he held Harriet on his lap so Mark could see her. He was too weak to move. George stood by the bed and stared at his father. Tears rolled from Mark's eyes as he saw his children. "I love you." He whimpered. His broken body trembled. "I want you to know that I love you so much." John sobbed weakly. "All three of you." Mark weakly reached out to stroke Harriet's cheek before gently stroking George's hair. Then he reached out and took John's hand tightly. John could see from the way Mark squeezed his hand and the way he twisted his face that he was in a lot of pain. "I love you so much. And I want you to know that I never wanted to leave you." Harriet cried.

"Where are you going, Daddy? Why are you leaving?" Mark looked at her sadly.

"I'm going somewhere else, my love." He whispered. "You won't be able to see me anymore. But I'll still be here to look after you and your brother, okay?" Harriet whimpered.

"But I don't want you to go. Stay here." Mark swallowed hard.

"I don't want to go either, princess, but..." The singer swallowed hard and closed his eyes briefly to endure the pain. "I have no choice. George." Mark reached out to him. George walked towards his father, trembling. Mark gently rubbed George's shoulder. "I'm very proud of you and I love you. Do what you love, my son." Mark breathed. "And never let anyone tell you, you can't do something." Mark took a shuddering breath. "You're the man of the house now. Promise me you'll look after your sister." George nodded firmly.

"I promise you, Dad." Mark smiled gently when he saw his children. "I love you. You made me proud." John wanted to take the children out of the room, but they wouldn't let him. Harriet kept trying to climb onto the bed, but couldn't. John wanted to stop her, but Mark looked at him determinedly, so the bassist lifted his daughter onto the bed. Harriet lay on Mark's chest and clung to him. The guitarist gasped in pain. John wanted to lift her out of bed immediately, but Mark stopped him. He wrapped his arms around the little girl, who was sobbing into his chest. George soon lay down on the other side of the bed. Mark held them both close and closed his eyes. He enjoyed the last moment with his children and kissed both of them on the head. John watched the whole thing with concern and sad eyes. He knew that Mark was in a lot of pain. The children were not exactly light and were pressing on his wounds, but that didn't seem to interest Mark. They sat in silence for a while before Mark gasped for air, almost in panic, and stared at John. "John." He croaked anxiously. The bassist looked at him worriedly. Mark began to sob now. His eyes were getting more and more tired, but he tried to keep them open.

"Mark..."

"John, I love you." Mark gasped sharply. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to leave you alone with the kids, I..."

"Sh." John whispered, gently stroking Mark's cheek. "It's going to be okay. I can handle this. Don't worry."

"I'm so sorry." Mark sobbed. He felt life slowly slipping away from him. "I'm scared." He whimpered.

"Sh." John leaned over the bed. Determined to be strong for his family. "I love you." He kissed Mark firmly on the lips. "You are an incredible man. Don't be afraid. We're fine. Don't worry about us." Mark looked at him sadly. John stroked his cheek. "My beautiful husband." He whispered softly. "I will miss you so much. It will hurt so much to hear your songs." Mark smiled at him through tears.

"John." He whispered tiredly.

"Mark."

"John..."

"Mark." John leaned forward and kissed Mark firmly on the lips. Tears rolled down his cheeks. "Let go." He whispered. "Let go, it's okay." He held Mark's hand firmly in his and gently stroked the soul mark. "Let go. Everything will be fine." Mark took a shuddering breath. "I love you, Mark Freuder Knopfler."

"I... I love you too, John Edward." Mark closed his eyes in agony. The pain grew stronger. John leaned forward and gently kissed Mark's face.

"Let go." He breathed. "Stop suffering. We'll be fine." Mark whimpered weakly.

"I don't want to go."

"I know. I don't want you to go either." John whispered. "But please stop torturing yourself. I can't stand the sight of you, being in pain. We'll be fine, I promise you." John kissed Mark's cheek. "Let go."

"I love you." Mark breathed softly.

"I know." John smiled gently. Marks thumbs stroked he arms of his kids for one last time, before his eyes closed and he stopped breathing. The machines started screaming and shortly afterwards nurses stormed into the room. John didn't even notice the whole thing. He held his husband's hand tightly in his. Mark and John. Forever.

THE END