Remark: Lyrics belong to Mark Knopfler

The days flew by. Mark had managed to bleed the name out. His wrist was sore and had deep cuts. He had even had to stitch up a few of them. However, the area was not only sore, it was still blue. Blue didn't mean anything good. The band was in a stadium. They were going to perform a concert. The band members had all already prepared. Mark was sitting on the stairs leading up to the stage. He held his guitar on his thigh. He had pulled his headband over his head. He also had bands on his wrists. No one could see the fresh scars, which made him feel a little more comfortable.

"Ready?" John asked, almost startling him as he was suddenly so close to him. The singer looked up and nodded quickly.

"Let's go." They walked onto the stage, the crowd screaming excitedly. Mark smiled as he walked up to the microphone. "Good evening Wembley!" He shouted, which made the crowd go wild. They started with Sultans of Swing and worked their way through their song set list. It happened near the end. When they played Communiqué. Mark was sweating like an animal as he stood at the microphone and sang. He felt it. He felt a dull ache in his heart and he winced as the pain turned into a stabbing pain. He felt himself getting dizzy before his eyes simply closed and he fell backwards onto the stage. It became deadly quiet and everyone looked at each other questioningly. David was the first to act. He rushed towards his brother and patted his cheek.

"Mark? Mark, what's wrong with you?" The older one lay stretched out on the floor for a while before opening his eyes and groaning softly. David helped him up. Mark looked into the worried faces of the fans.

"What happened?" He asked weakly.

"You just fainted." Pick said worriedly and helped David to get the singer back up. Mark shook his head a little before continuing to play as if nothing had happened. David, however, made the whole thing worrying. When the performance was over, he walked behind Mark back down the steps to the backstage, having to catch his brother as he almost tripped. They sat the singer down on a chair and gave him a bottle of Coke.

"What happened?" John asked worriedly, putting a hand on Mark's shoulder. Mark gasped as the stabbing pain in his chest increased. He stood up on wobbly legs and tried to put some distance between himself and John. His vision was slightly blurred and he took a shuddering breath. "Mark? Mark, what's wrong?" John followed him across the room until Mark hit a wall with his back.

"What's wrong with you?" Pick asked worriedly, putting a hand on Mark's shoulder.

"Leave me alone." Mark gasped, trying to push everyone away.

"He's gone crazy." Keller laughed as he put an arm around John's waist. But the bassist pushed him away worriedly and went back to his oldest friend.

"Mark." He said worriedly.

"Go away." Mark whimpered. His eyes filled with tears.

"Calm down." David hummed. He took him under his arm. "Come. Talk to me. We can talk alone." He led Mark into an adjoining room. Pick followed quickly. John also wanted to follow, but the drummer told him to wait with Keller. The door closed behind them.

"Shit, what's wrong with him?" John whimpered worriedly. Keller pulled him into his arms and sat down with him on a bench. He wrapped his arms around the tall bassist.

"I love you." He hummed.

"I love you too, Mark." John whispered and kissed him worriedly.

*

Meanwhile, the drummer and the two guitarists were alone in the adjoining room. They had put the singer on a sofa and were flanking him on either side.

"What's wrong with you?" David whispered worriedly. "Are you sick? Are you not feeling well?" Mark whimpered. It didn't matter now anyway. He had nothing to lose. So he pulled the bracelet off his right arm. The drummer gasped sharply when he saw all the scars. They were fresh. David's eyes widened too.

"You... shit, Mark. You started cutting it again!? Why the hell did you do that?" Mark sighed and wiped the cream from his wrist that he had applied before the concert. His friends' eyes widened when they saw the blue glow. "Mark?" David whispered with wide eyes. Mark sniffed and tried to hold back his tears.

"It doesn't matter now anyway. I... I still have a few days." Mark breathed.

"What are you talking about?" Pick asked in surprise.

"Pick, a...a soul mark turns blue when...when you have lost your soul mate because he died or...or because you were rejected." David said quietly. "The bearer of the soul mark...he will die." Tears formed in the eyes of the younger Knopfler. "Shit, Mark. What the hell have you done!?" Mark sobbed and trembled between his friends.

"Sh. Calm down." The drummer whispered and put an arm around the guitarist's shoulders.

"Why did you let the name bleed out!? Why twice!?" David sobbed.

"He let the name bleed out?" Pick asked with wide eyes. "I thought you didn't have a soul mark?"

"I had a soul mark." Mark whispered. "I let it bleed out many years ago. A month ago... after I said I didn't have one... it came back in the night. My fate was probably trying to remind me." Mark smiled weakly.

"Why... why did you let it bleed out again?" Pick asked cautiously. He tried to keep his fear in check, but he didn't quite succeed. Mark slowly stood up and looked sadly at his friends.

"Who is it?" David asked quietly. Mark bit his lip. "Who is your soul mate? You know him. Am I right?"

"Mark F.K." Mark said quietly and looked at the floor.

"Yes?" Pick looked at him questioningly.

"That is John Illsley's soul sign." The singer whispered. David's eyes widened with understanding.

"But John's soul mate is Mark Francis Keller." Pick said, not understanding. Mark sighed resignedly.

"But these letters don't stand for Keller." He closed his eyes and swallowed nervously. "They stand for Mark Freuder Knopfler." His eyes closed and he wanted to leave the room.

"Wait! What the hell do you mean!?" Pick shouted with wide eyes.

"My soul sign." Mark swallowed. "It was John E. I. John's middle name is Edward." With that, he left the room in silence.

*

That night, Mark Freuder Knopfler wrote a new song. He called it "so far away".

Here I am again in this mean old town

And you're so far away from me

And where are you when the sun go down?

You're so far away from me

You're so far away from me

So far I just can't see

You're so far away from me

You're so far away from me, alright

I'm tired of bein' in love and bein' all alone

When you're so far away from me

I'm tired of makin' out on the telephone

'Cause you're so far away from me

You're so far away from me

You're so far I just can't see

You're so far away from me

You're so far away from me, alright

And I get so tired when I have to explain

When you're so far away from me

See you've been in the sun and I've been in the rain

And you're so far away from me

You're so far away from me

You're so far away from me

You're so far I just can't see

You're so far away from me

You're so far away from me, take it down

So far away from me

Oh, you're so far away from me

Yeah, you're so far away from me

So far away from me

You're so far... and you're so far away from me

You're so far... so far away from me

You're so far away from me

So far away from me

You're so far... so far away from me

So far away from me

You're so far... so far away from me

Alright

You're so far... you're just so far away from me

(So far away, Dire Straits, written by Mark Knopfler)

When Mark had finished writing the song, he felt tears in his eyes. He was sitting alone on his sofa in his apartment. The paper with the lyrics lay in his hands. His fingers were shaking.

*

At the same time, John was being intimate with his boyfriend. When they were both finished, they lay next to each other in bed, panting. Keller fell asleep almost immediately. John lay naked in his bed before he decided to take a shower. While he was in the shower, he leaned against the tiled wall and sighed. He was worried about Mark. Knopfler had scared the hell out of him when he collapsed on stage. John didn't want to admit it, but...Keller wasn't an as good boyfriend as he pretended to be in front of the others. Keller often hit him when they were alone. He drank almost every night and often expected John to have sex without the bassist wanting it. John sank to the floor in the shower and began to cry. He looked hatefully at his soul mark. Damn it. Why was it the wrong Mark?

He had fallen in love with Mark Freuder Knopfler. From the moment he had first seen the boy in the old corridors of the university. But since Mark didn't have a soul mark on his wrist and never showed it to anyone, he had suspected that he wasn't the right one. His heart ached, but when he found Keller...God he had been so happy and now...now he just wished that Knopfler had been his soul mate. In the last few days he had felt severe pain in his wrist. He knew that meant his soul mate was hurting himself. He had felt that pain often enough in his childhood. And that pain told John that Keller could not be his soul mate. Because the older man had never hurt himself. He was far too self-absorbed to do that. John wrapped his arms around his legs and sobbed weakly that night when the Water was still pouring down on him. Fate had betrayed him.