Mark had driven to his apartment that night. John had realized he had done something bad because Mark had obviously been crying. The bassist was lying in his bed staring at the ceiling. What the hell was he supposed to do? He didn't even know why he had gotten so angry. Flora had cried when Mark left and it had torn John's heart apart. He had said horrible things to him. "Nobody was interested in you." John heard his own words repeating over and over in his head. He had hit Mark hard with those words and thinking about it made John cry. He curled up in his bed and sobbed weakly. Why was he unable to have a healthy relationship? It had been their first argument and he knew it would happen at some point but he hadn't thought he would be the one to start the argument.

*

Two days later the musicians met in the studio. Pick, who worked in this studio, had been given permission by his boss to rehearse something there after the end of his shift. However, they were not allowed to record a tape because that would cost money and they wanted to practice first. This was of course best done in a studio. When John got there, holding his bass case in one hand and Flora's hand in the other, he saw Mark's green car parked in front of the small recording studio. He hadn't spoken to Mark for two days and his concern was growing.

"Look, Dad! Pops is already here!" Flora called out excitedly. John sighed and they made their way into the building. When John opened the door, he could already hear Pick's voice. Flora ran ahead, John followed her with the bass case in his hand.

"Well, who do we have here?" Pick asked with a grin and lifted Flora briefly into the air. The girl giggled excitedly.

"Hello uncle Pick."

"Hello little one. How are you?"

"Very well." She smiled excitedly. "I miss your popcorn machine."

"Maybe you can come visit me one more time." Pick grinned and winked at her, which made her giggle.

"Pops!" Flora called excitedly as a door opened and Mark appeared. He was wearing black jeans and a red striped long-sleeved shirt. He looked pretty tired.

"Hello Flo." He smiled and knelt down. The girl hugged him. "How are you?"

"Pretty good. I missed you." Mark smiled and rubbed her back.

"Missed you too." John stood silently in the room and watched them.

"Oh hello John." Pick smiled and patted him on the shoulder. "You can take your bass to the studio. Mark'll show you the way, right Mark?" He turned his attention to the younger man. Mark nodded silently. "Want an ice cream, Flo?" The girl turned around and beamed at Pick.

"Do you have one?"

"Maybe." The drummer grinned cheekily. Flora ran towards him, laughing. John smiled slightly. Mark held the door open for him as he walked into a small hallway with the bass case. It was quiet between the two as the tall bassist followed the guitarist. They entered a narrow room filled with a drum kit, microphones, cables and amplifiers.

"The bass amplifier is over there." Mark said, pointing to a large black box to the left of the drum kit. John nodded and walked towards the amplifier. He opened his case and took out his bass guitar. "Here." Mark handed him a cable. John took it, but when Mark tried to pull his hand back, the bassist grabbed Mark's wrist. The younger man gasped and hissed loudly. John's eyes widened and focused on Mark's face.

"What's wrong?" He asked, confused. Mark jerked his arm out of John's grip.

"You scared me, that's all." Mark went to a music stand on which there were lots of papers. "Can you read music? Or rather, do you need notes to play?" John shook his head.

"I can't read music."

"That's fine. Neither can I nor Pick. Who needs music notes anyway?" John giggled a little. Mark handed him a piece of paper with something scribbled on it. "Pick and I have already thought up the drum and guitar parts. The bass is still missing." John nodded and looked at the paper. "I suggest we play it for you, but maybe you want to tune your bass and adjust the amplifier first." With that, the younger man left the room. John sighed deeply. Mark was obviously still pretty angry with him. John's brown eyes focused on the paper and the handwriting that was immortalized there in blue ink.

Southbound again
Don't know if I'm going or leaving home
Boy's bound to be moving
Seems like the boy's bound to roam

Oh, every single time
I roll across the rolling river Tyne
Every single time
I roll across the rolling River Tyne
Oh, I get the same old feeling
Every time I'm moving down the line

[Guitar Solo]

Southbound again
Last night I felt like crying, like crying
Southbound again
Last night I felt like crying
By now I'm sick of living
But I'm gonna keep on trying, keep on trying

(Southbound again by Mark Knopfler)

John's eyes widened when he read the second to last line of the lyrics. Mark was tired of life? What...what the hell was he saying!? The whole lyrics were about how Mark went from his hometown of Newcastle to London to become famous in a band...John actually liked the lyrics, because he knew about the struggle people felt when leaving their hometown for success. He hadn't read any of Mark's lyrics before, so he was quite amazed by the story of the song. But the second to last line gave him a stomach ache.

*

The rehearsal had been very quiet and orderly. They hadn't spoken much, but had still communicated well with each other. The bass part for the song was composed quickly and John had immediately had a few ideas after hearing Mark and Pick's version of the song. After they had cleaned up, Pick had suggested that they could order pizza. And so it was that they were sitting in the studio office, each eating a pizza. Flora hadn't gotten her own, so she ate half of John's pizza.

"Can I try your pizza, Pops?" She asked, pointing to half of Mark's pizza. The guitarist smiled gently and reached out his arms to pick the girl up. He sat her on his lap and handed her a piece of his pizza. "Thanks." The girl giggled and took a delicious bite of the piece. Mark smiled weakly before sighing and brushing a few strands of hair from her face. John watched in silence.

"Have you ever thought about having kids of your own, lad?" Pick asked out of the blue. Mark looked at him in surprise. "I think you'd be a great father."

"You know, Pick..." Mark sighed. "I've never found a suitable girl." John bit his lower lip hard.

"That's true." The drummer murmured. "But now you have Flora and John." Mark nodded silently and looked at the floor. The bassist chewed tensely on his lower lip. "But still." Pick began again. "A child with your eyes would be incredibly cute, Mark." Mark let out a loud sigh.

"Pick...please stop." He murmured.

"Why? You have pretty eyes." Pick replied. "And I bet a baby with your eyes would look incredibly wholesome."

"Well." Mark stood up and gently set Flora down on the chair he had been sitting on. "Nobody was ever interested in me." John felt his heart skip a beat. He heard his own voice from a few days ago, saying exactly that sentence. "I'll have a smoke." Mark muttered and left the recording studio. When the door closed behind him, Pick looked at the bassist in astonishment.

"What the hell is going on? Did you have an argument or something?" John sighed deeply and nodded thoughtfully.

"Unfortunately, yes. But I'm afraid it was my fault."

"What did you do?" Pick asked, confused.

"Well, we... Flora talked about sex education." John bit his lower lip and told the whole story. While Pick listened, Flora was too busy enjoying the pizza, which is why she didn't listen.

"You said that to him!?" Pick exclaimed indignantly. John sighed resignedly.

"I guess so, yeah."

"What the hell's gotten into you!?" The drummer screamed in horror. "Do you have any idea what he's been through in his life!?"

"No! I don't! Because nobody's telling me what the hell's going on! You won't tell me, one of his mates won't tell me, and neither will he! Am I supposed to smell it or what!? How the hell am I supposed to know what's going on!?" Pick stood up and angrily dragged the taller man to his feet. He glared up at John, since he was much shorter.

"You go out there and fix this shit now." He growled angrily, pointing to the door of the studio.

"What the hell am I supposed to say?" John grumbled.

"I don't care, but you go out there and apologize to him, damn it! I'm not going to visit him in the hospital again because he tried to commit suicide!" John's eyes widened and his breath caught.

"What..." He whispered in shock.

"You heard me very well, John Illsley!" Pick shouted angrily. "Go out and apologize to him!" John sighed quietly and nodded.

"I guess you're right." With these words, he shuffled to the door with a heavy heart, out of the recording studio. He found Mark sitting on the entrance steps. He held a cigarette between his fingers and took a drag before blowing the smoke out of his lungs. John sat down on the cold marble stone next to him with a sigh. Without saying a word, Mark handed him a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. John took both and lit a cigarette for himself. They both sat silently next to each other, smoking and looking out into the darkness. It wasn't completely dark, as the street lights were on.

"Mark?" John asked after a while of silence.

"Mh?" The younger man grumbled before taking another drag on his cigarette, causing it to glow orange.

"I'm sorry." John sighed and let out a breath. "I didn't mean to hurt you with my words. I... I still don't know why you're having nightmares and what the hell happened to you, but... obviously I hurt you with my words. And I'm sorry for that. I... I love you and I don't want our relationship to end because of that stupid argument. In the end, you were right. Flora should know something about sex education. The younger she is, the better. She's just...she's my baby, you know? The last eight years have gone by so damn fast and I still somehow can't believe she's grown up so much." Mark sat there in silence, stubbing out his cigarette on the marble step. John turned his head and finally dared to look at the smaller man. "I...I'm just sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. You've been hurt and disappointed so many times in your life and...I'm really sorry that I hurt and disappointed you too. You didn't deserve that in any way. You're a unique person. I'm sorry." Mark let out a sigh and reached for John's hand. He laced their fingers together and then looked silently out into the dark street. John looked down at their joined hands and smiled weakly.

Mark said nothing. Not a single word. He didn't have to. John knew what he wanted to tell him. It was okay. He loved him. And it would stay that way for a long time.