Rediscovering John

Thank you to everyone who has contacted me about this story. It is, as you can imagine, very personal to me. I hope you like this installment.

As always, let me know what you think. I love to hear from you.

Also (plug time here) my first book is out for Kindle! It's called 'A Man for a Year'. The Amazon ASIN Reference is: B004TAQESO. and the US link is here: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B004TAQESO. I can't get the pricing information to display properly onthe US page!!!!! It shouldn't cost more than $8.99 - or at least that is what I suggested.

Anyway, it is a sweet story (honest) about two friends, Emma and Mark. She is straight, he is gay. At twenty-four they have decided that they are going about their love lives all wrong. Every man they date is gone moments after they find them, it seems! Scared off by talk of marriage and kids and slippers in front of the fire... So they decide to make a pact. They will each go out and find a man for a year, just to date, not a hint of anything else! The story then follows them both for the next year, charting their life in search of the Man they have to just enjoy for a year. It's a good read - have a look! Take it on holiday and settle back with a book that isn't going to be too taxing! It's even vaguely pornographic in places!

So, we will speak again soon.

Enjoy

Mandijerri

Rediscovering John, Part Five: Hospital Scans

"I hope you're not modest!" The technician laughed as he opened the door to the room and let John and Francois inside. "The scanner is the ultimate in x-ray glasses - without the x-rays of course!" He added, laughing at his own joke.

They came into a large and clinical room. The MRI scanner was at one side, a large table, around which was wrapped a huge metal cocoon. A couple of chairs lined one wall and there were some lockers next to them. The room was cool, but not too cold.

"Now, you will need to remove shoes and jeans." The doctor said. "Your underwear is plain cotton, yes, no metal parts?"

"None at all." John smiled. "I decided against kinky today."

"Good call." The technician smiled.

He turned and went to a locker, then came back with a gown.

"This is the gown you will wear. A more unfashionable piece of clothing you will be hard pressed to find! You can keep your pants and t-shirt on if you wish. You have a watch, rings or ear-rings?"

"I have them all." Francois said as he took John's shoes and placed them under one of the chairs.

"Good. You filled the paperwork in when you were in reception?"

"Yes."

"Even better. Let me help you." The technician added as he held the gown for John.

It was a standard hospital gown, summer yellow with an abstract pattern along the edges in white. It was tied at the back using two white tapes. John slipped into the gown and the technician tied it for him in a big loose bow. Francois put his jeans on one of the chairs.

"Francois can stay in here while I have the scan?" John asked.

"You have no metal objects, piercings and so forth?" The doctor asked.

"My belt buckle..." Francois said.

"If you were in the scanner that would be a problem, out here, not so." The technician said. "So, I do this every day, this is your first, yes?"

"Yes."

"It's not scary." The technician smiled. "Well, it's not meant to be scary, let's put it that way! You can call me at any time, there is a microphone on the inside. Don't try and have a conversation with me though, as I need you to keep still. But if you need anything, call. Is that alright?"

"Yes." John whispered.

"So, only the table moves, and then only when we position you in the scanner. If I need to reposition the table to get a better image I will tell you first. When you are in the scanner, you cannot move, that is important."

"I can breathe?"

"Yes, we recommend that you breathe." The technician smiled at him, indicating he should sit on the bed.

"Am I tied in?"

"Nope, nothing like that. You just lie back on the bed. Your head will be inside this little cage." The technician said showing John the cage, "But it is not secured to the table. It is just there to keep your head still. Alright?"

"Yes."

"Good. So if you could lie down now..."

John lay back on the table. The technician helped him slide up the table so his shoulders were against a plastic brace, with his head resting on a low plastic pillow on the other side.

"Comfortable?"

"As I can be." John muttered, reaching out and grabbing Francois' hand.

The technician gave John some small ear plugs.

"These will deaden some of the sound, but it will be loud, I warn you." The technician said. "Some people find it better to mould the ear plugs, if they are not fitting well, you may want to do that."

"Can I try one now?" John asked.

"Be my guest." The technician replied.

John pushed one of the plugs into his ear, then took it out, squeezed it slightly and put it in again.

"Better?" The technician asked.

"Yes."

"Good. Now, as to what you do on the inside, I don't mind - just don't move. Alright?"

John nodded.

"You may want to close your eyes as I slide you in. The cocoon narrows down inside and some people find the sensation a bit claustrophobic."

"How long will I be in there for?"

"Twenty minutes max." The technician assured him. "The consultant has told me where to scan and there is only one location."

"And the results?" Francois asked. "When will we have them?"

"You have booked an appointment with the consultant?"

"For next week."

"Then I would expect him to tell you then. If there is anything going on in your head that be shouldn't be going on, he will call sooner. That's usually the routine."

"No news is good news." John said.

"Exactly." The technician laughed. "Now, put the other ear plug in." He added. "This is a blanket, you might get cold just lying there doing nothing." He put a blanket over John and Francois straightened it.

"I'm going to push you in now, can you hear me?"

"Yes." John said.

"Close your eyes if you wish."

John closed his eyes as the bed slipped into the plastic covered tube. It was cooler in here and he could feel air brushing his face. When the appointment had been confirmed, the hospital had sent a leaflet explaining the whole process. One of the things it said to do was to take yourself off to a happy place once the scan started. This allowed you to relax and block out the noises of the scanner.

John had planned to think of lots of things, but couldn't remember any of them at all at the moment! He opened his eyes.

The light was bright, but the whiteness of the scanner seemed to make the space feel larger than he knew it was. Like the space on the inside of the cocoon spread beyond the reflective surface of the plastic lining. The stream of cool air helped as well. There was a stale smell to the place, like distant cleaning fluids, but it wasn't unpleasant.

"Right, John." The technician said through the microphone. "The volume of this thing is loud so I hope you can hear me."

"I can." John said.

"Good. I am going to turn the lights out in a moment. The lights will remain on in the room, so you will not be in total darkness. Remember, nothing is going to move unless I tell you it will move. The only thing that will happen is the noise of the scanner. You will feel nothing else."

"Is Francois in the room?"

"Yes, he is sat in one of the chairs at the other end of the room. Are you ready?"

"Yes."

"OK, don't move. Lights off and... go!"

The sounds began almost at once. A repetitive snapping or firing. At one time sounding like a gun fire and another a deep monotone drum beat. John lay there silently. It wasn't as dark as he expected and he took some comfort from that. The cool air helped and this became a kind of mantra for him. Feeling the air flowing over his hair, feeling it ruffle his hair. He hoped it wouldn't make him itch! Hope he didn't need to itch at all! He couldn't move.....

He breathed and smiled to himself, careful not to smile on the outside in case this made his head move.

Happy places... happy places... holidays in Nice... their honeymoon on the gullet, sailing through the Turkish Med... the first night in the new apartment... their first night together... Meeting on the tube!

He had been made redundant about two weeks before and had been frantically applying for every job he could find. In the end he had taken to buying the 'Evening Standard' so he could search for jobs in London as well. He had only worked for Jacobs and Ferret for eight months, not long enough to get any redundancy money. And his last salary was all the money he had in the world!

OK, a little melodramatic there. His parents were helping him, as they always did and, when he had been accepted for the interview at Taylor Wimpey, they had paid for the fare. The interview was to work as an Sales Administrator in their London office. He would have to travel by train to Marylebone station in London. Jump onto the Bakerloo line to Charing Cross and then the Northern Line to West Finchley.

He knew there were probably quicker roots, taking the Central Line from Oxford Circus to Tottenham Court road, maybe, but that was too many trains. He needed the journey to be as simple as possible so he could concentrate on the interview. On the way back - it didn't matter, he could take as many trains as he wanted!

The job paid £20,000 he seemed to remember, not bad and more than he had earned in Aylesbury, but he would have to drive to Finchley every day - and that would be expensive. This was a desperation job, he was taking the interview because it was the only interview he had been offered so far - not because he wanted the job particularly.

It was an OK interview. To be honest he couldn't remember much about it now. The woman that had interviewed him had been pretty, about his age - a brunette, he recalled now, with scarlet red lipstick that matched her blouse! The offices were neat, on the ground floor of an office block and not as large as he had expected them to be. Apart from that, he had answered the questions and asked some pertinent ones of his own, or so he hoped. He was in his black suit, with extremely shiny black shoes, white shirt and a green tie. He looked, he had hoped, just like a Sales Administrator was expected to look like.

The interview had taken just under an hour, he remembered hoping that was a good amount of time for an interview to last. He and the woman interviewing him had both laughed a bit, flirted a bit, spoken about him and the job a bit... And then she had asked some questions from his CV, talked to him about his last job, about redundancies... and then walked him to the door. That was it.

The walk back to the tube station took about twenty minutes. He had a good memory for roads, and prided himself on being able to find his way from one place to another if he had done the journey just once. Now he walked in the midmorning sunshine along Kingsway, then Ballards Lane and Moss Hall Grove. He remembered the names now, two years later and he hadn't been back there since!

He didn't get the job, but at the time he didn't know that.

So Moss Hall Grove deposited him on Nether Street, turn left and walk down to the parade of shops that also housed West Finchley Station. He remembered seeing a small grocery store in the parade on the way out and he went there now for a drink, a fanta or something else fizzy, some chocolate, probably a snickers, he was addicted to them back then, and a paper - the early edition of the 'Evening Standard' no doubt. Then back to the station.

The Northern Line at West Finchley was above ground, travelling through north London in an endless tree and shrub lined culvert. He had this nasty habit of memorising tube stations and could still remember the stations on that return trip now - mainly because of what happened later, but that was still to come. So, West Finchley, Finchley Central and East Finchley, then the train slipped underground. Highgate, Archway and Tufnell Park. He had looked up from his paper around then and noticed the train was pretty much empty.

The morning rush hour was long gone and the lunchtime rush hadn't started yet. There was no-one else in the carriage with him apart from a guy sitting in the row of seats on the other side of the carriage. Like John he had been reading a paper, the 'Metro' but was now staring at the adverts along the top of the train, bored.

Next stop Kentish Town, where he and Francois lived now, then Camden Town (best pubs in north London), Mornington Crescent (which always made him smile, although he could never remember why now) and then Euston, Warren Street and then... nothing. As always happened on the tube, the train ground to a stop for no apparent reason, and there it stayed.

John remembered starting the paper again and he was half way through reading all the stories he missed on the first pass when the lights went out. He put the paper down just as they came back up, then they went out again. This time they stayed out.

John hated the dark, always had done. It was a fear from childhood. His parents had converted the loft in the house and he had moved into it. They had then turned his old room into an en suite and a dressing room. The idea of living in the eaves of the house had been exciting for one night. Then his mum had turned the lights off and the darkness had come to terrorise him.

He never said anything to his parents, they had spent so much on this project and, in the light, he loved his new room. It was huge! He had a game zone, a reading zone, a sleeping zone... Zones were important back then. His favourite television programme was an action game show called the 'Crystal Maze' that had contestants running from one zone to another to complete tests and trials. Now he had zones of his own!

And darkness.

And monsters.

And over the years the monsters became rapists, murderers, burglars bent on murder, escaped prisoners, escaped prisoners who wanted to torture and murder their hostages, escaped maniacs, escaped torturing maniacs, people who just wanted to be maniacal at his expense... In the end he hid a torch under his pillow and it became his night time champion.

With the flick of a switch he could banish the darkness. the torch grew over the years in proportion to his fear of the dark. Even now, in his own flat, he had a huge halogen torch that would put a lighthouse to shame!

The only thing that stopped him screaming now was knowing there was someone else in the carriage. The next carriage along had emergency lighting, but it wasn't working in this one for some reason. He wanted to move, but instead found himself wrapping his arms around the pole next to him and sticking to it.

Help.

The man opposite coughed and settled back in his seat. John just let the paper fall to the seat next to him. He managed to move closer to the pole, to the door, but then no more. Hs body refused to move another inch. He closed his eyes, but it was no help. At one point he opened his eyes and couldn't tell any different. It was only when he turned his head and looked at the low lights in the next carriage that he realised he had his eyes open at all.

Help.

The door to the driver's compartment (he was in the first carriage) opened and the driver came shuffling past. He had a torch, but it seemed to light up only his boots and he ignored John and the other passenger as he passed along the carriage. John watched his light pass him longingly, but he didn't say anything. Couldn't say anything. Help!

The guard opened the door at the end of the carriage and vanished through it. John closed his eyes again, then whimpered.

"Are you OK?" A voice asked.

Deep, comforting... French?

"Don't like the dark!" John whispered. "Never have!"

"Ah." The man said.

There was a noise as he moved, then another as he pulled John's paper out of the way and settled next to him.

"Better if we face it together, no?"

"Yes." John whispered, but he still clenched his eyes shut.

"I am Francois." The man said. "And you are...?"

"Terrified!" John said, and Francois laughed.

"But funny, I think." He said.

A moment later and an arm slipped around his waist, and Francois pulled himself closer to John.

"I am here, OK?" He whispered.

"OK." John said and he moved closer into this man.

He felt safe, sure and he could hear his mother warning him about talking to strangers on the underground.

"You're not... a murderer are you?" John asked.

"No!" Francois laughed, and he slipped closer to John, slipped his arm around him tighter. "But I will keep you safe while the lights are gone, yes?"

"That would be good." John said. "And sorry about the murderer thing! My mum told me to watch out for mad men in London!"

"I am not mad." Francois whispered, and his voice was close to John's ear. "Angry at this delay, yes, but not mad!"

They were silent for a moment, and John blushed at the situation he was in now. Twenty-four, terrified of the dark, stuck on an underground train in the arms of an unknown Frenchman! How did that look?

"Weird." He muttered.

"Pardon?" Francois said.

"Sorry, talking out loud." John said, eyes still clenched shut. "I was just thinking how weird this would look."

"We will see when the lights come on again, I think." Francois said, and John could hear the smile in his words.

"John." He said.

"Hmm?"

"My name." John said. "It's John."

"Nice to meet you, John." Francois said. "You work in London?"

"I came for an interview." John said. "Haven't been to London for years!"

"Where do you live then?"

"Aylesbury, you know it?"

"I have heard the name, is it far from here?"

"Fifty kilometres, maybe."

"About the same distance my family live from Paris."

"Do you live in London?"

"Yes, for two years now. I work in the British Library."

"How does a Frenchman end up working in the British Library?" John asked.

"It is strange, I admit." Francois said, and John could hear his smile again, warm, secure. "I have a degree in history. The history of our two countries overlaps in many places and there has been a lot written about it. I am in charge of the European Literature section of the library now."

"Interesting?"

"Truthfully?"

"Yes."

"No." Francois admitted. "I love working for the Library, just not in my current department. I could do so much more! What was your interview for?"

"A Sales Administrator."

"What is that?"

"My question exactly." John smiled, realising he had opened his eyes somewhere in the conversation.

"What would you like to do?"

"I organise people." John said. "I know it doesn't sound like much, but I enjoy organising things. In my last job I pretty much ran the lives of the four partners."

"Why are you coming for an interview in London then?"

"They had very neat diaries, and immaculate lives, but nothing in the order book. None of them could sell themselves, you see. They relied on the old boy's network and I think they all died!"

"Hah!" Francois laughed. "You are so cynical! Makes you uniquely British, I think."

"What, and the French are not cynical?"

"No, we just hate everyone with equal alacrity." Francois laughed.

John let go of the pole and settled into Francois. Francois pulled him in closer and wrapped his other arm around him as well. He made John feel safe and that was what was important at the moment.

"Do they do this often?" John asked.

"What?"

"Trains stopping and all the lights going out."

"No, not really." Francois said. "I've been here for two years now, they stop all the time, but never like this."

"Well I wish they'd start again." John said.

"Do you?" Francois asked, pulling him closer.

"Umm... I've never been hugged by a man before." John said.

"Not even your father?"

"We're English!"

"Oh, yes. Sorry!"

"Can I ask you something?" John asked.

"The answer is yes." Francois said.

"I haven't asked yet!"

"You were going to ask if I was gay."

"Am I that obvious?"

"I'm afraid so, yes."

"Sorry."

"You do not need to apologise." Francois smiled. "You are scared on a train in the arms of the most handsome Frenchman in the capital. It is only right you ask of my intentions!"

"Intentions!" John laughed. "You have some?"

"Maybe." Francois smiled. "You are not gay, I assume."

"Not that I've noticed."

"If I keep you safe through all of this will you promise me one thing then?" Francois asked.

"Yes." John said.

"Let me take you for a drink and a meal afterwards. I want to talk with you in the light!"

"Deal." John laughed.

The carriage door opened at the other end of the carriage and the driver came back through with his small pool of light bouncing around in front of him.

"What's happening?" John asked as he approached them.

"Jesus!" The driver said, dropping his torch and scrabbling around for it on the floor. "I didn't know there was anyone in this carriage!"

"Two of us." Francois said.

"Right." The driver said, shining the light of the torch in their faces. "We seem to have had a power cut, no-one up above knows why. I'm just waiting for instructions."

"How much longer will be here for?" John asked.

"Not too long." The driver said. "They need the network up and running for tonight's rush hour so they will want this fixed. I expect a call in the next half hour. We may have to walk up to Goodge Street though."

"How far?" Francois asked.

"600 feet." The driver said. "We were almost there when the power went."

"Thanks." John said.

The driver shuffled off to his cabin, shutting himself inside.

"Aren't the tubes full of rats?" John asked.

"Not the trains." Francois assured him.

"But the tracks?"

"Why, you scared of rats as well as the dark?" He smiled, pulling John closer into him and holding him tighter.

"Something else you are going to have to save me from, I'm afraid." John laughed.

"I'm going to have to work for this meal, am I not?"

"Looks like it." John replied.

They were silent for a while, then John asked:

"So how does a guy who lives fifty kilometres from Paris end up working for the British Library in London?"

"I ran away." Francois said.

"Really?"

"Pretty much. My family are very catholic, you understand. I've known I was gay for as long as I've known about sex. I kept it hidden for ages, would go up and stay with friends in Paris - you know the thing. I hit twenty-two, and thought enough was enough. I had to be true to myself or something equally noble!"

"And it went down well?"

"Sarcasm - another English trait." Francois smiled. "At least I can spot it now!"

"Your family weren't happy?"

"They threw me out!" Francois laughed. "It is funny now, but then, I was shocked. People who loved me, people I loved, my mother, my father, my sister and brother - all of them turned their backs on me."

"And you came to London?"

"Eventually. I really did go and stay with some friends in Paris for a while, sleeping on floors and the like. In the end I just thought enough was enough."

"You do that a lot then?" John interrupted.

"What?"

"Think enough is enough!"

"Yes, yes I do. You want me to continue?"

"Yes." John smiled.

"Good. I had a job working in a gay bar in Paris, all very seedy but it paid OK as long as you worked as many hours as you could. So I saved and came here."

"With any plans?"

"I had an interview with the British Library. I had seen an advert in a newspaper in Paris and applied. They asked me over. They were looking for a non-English person for a role in the European Literature department. They paid the fare, put me up for two nights and offered me the job."

"Wow!" John laughed. "I am born and bred Buckinghamshire. London is a distant mystery and here is you living and working in a foreign city!"

"It's a job." Francois smiled. "Besides, my life is here now. My friends in Paris even say I sound English now!"

"They're lying!" John smiled. "I knew you were French!"

"That's because I am trying to sound more French for you."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I always do it when I am talking with men who... interest me."

"Who, me?"

"Well it is hardly going to be the train driver, is it?"

"Right. Thanks." John said. "I've never been chatted up by a bloke before!"

"I have." Francois smiled. "It's not that different from being chatted up by a woman I would think."

"You're right." John said.

"You want me to let go of you?"

"No." John said. "You are keeping me safe, remember?"

"Yes, and from the rats!"

"Don't!" John laughed. "I was trying to forget about them!"

The door opened and the driver came back into the cab.

"Right." He said, shining the light back in their faces. "We are going to walk back to the station. Can you wait here by the door?"

"Sure." Francois said.

"Right. I'm going to get the other passengers from the next carriage into this one, then we'll all walk up to Goodge Street."

"OK." John said.

The driver wandered off up the carriage.

"Did you have a bag or anything?" John asked.

"No, it's my half day today." Francois laughed. "We have to work Saturdays."

"And you get to spend it in a train with me?"

"There are worse places to be." Francois smiled, squeezing John. "Did you have a bag?"

"No, just the paper, but I've read that."

"You ready to stand?"

"As long as you don't let me go!"

"I won't."

They stood and shuffled to the carriage door. Francois kept one arm around John's waist, the other he used to reach forward and make sure nothing was in the way. They stood in the corner of the door, Francois at the back with John in front, still inside Francois' arms. A noise and then shuffling down the carriage as some other people came their way.

"Over here!" John called.

"Thanks." A woman said, shining a flashlight in their faces. "Sorry!" She laughed. "It pissed me off when the driver kept doing that, makes you night blind again. Now I've gone and done it to you!"

"It is alright." Francois smiled.

"How many are you?" Someone else asked.

"Two." John said. "You?"

"Four. Not a busy train!"

"The brave few escaping Finchley!" Another voice muttered as the people shuffled into the door well.

"Where's the driver?" John asked.

"He climbed out of the back of the train." A man said. "Told us he would come along and open this door from the outside."

As he spoke there was a hiss from the door which startled John. Francois pulled him in closer. Next came a pumping noise and the door slowly wound open.

"Be careful!" The driver warned from beneath them. "It's about four feet down to the ground. Sit on the floor and then come down."

They did as they were told. Francois climbed out first, then almost lifted John down to the tracks.

"Thanks." He said, then pulled Francois' arm back around himself. "Rats, remember!"

"Sorry." Francois laughed. "I assumed now that we have an audience you would not want to be with me!"

"I'm in London, in the dark, standing on a rail track that normally has a gazillion volts running through it. You can keep you arm around me! At this moment in time people can think what they want!"

"Hear hear." The woman with the torch said as she came over near them.

"Mary." She said in the dark.

"John."

"Francois."

"I hate to think what this place is doing to my shoes!" She laughed. "I brought them in Camden, you see. Thought I'd wear them straight away..."

"Break the strap and take them back." Francois said.

"Depending on what they look like in daylight I may have to do that." She laughed.

"Right." The driver called from the back. "Lady with the torch?"

"Yes?" The woman next to them said.

"You lead the way. Head towards the light."

John laughed as memories of 'Poltergeist' flashed into his head.

"What's so funny?" Francois asked.

"Stupid eighties films, I would have thought." Mary laughed. "Come to the light, Carol-Anne!"

"And sometimes I remember that the English are very, very strange." Francois sighed.

"Come on!" John laughed. "Even the French must have seen Poltergeist?"

"Let me guess." Francois smiled. "Stupid Americans all get killed by some nasty ghost?"

"I didn't think they were stupid." Mary said.

"I kinda liked the film actually."

"Two and three were crap, though." Mary said.

"Sequels."

"You're off again." Francois sighed. "Being all English on me!"

"Sort of comes naturally." John laughed.

And then there were some steps that led up to the start of the platform. Only the emergency lights were on here, but they were way brighter than the dark tunnel. A man stood on the platform. He had a brighter torch and was shining it over their heads.

"Tell me you are not the Reverend Kane." Mary whispered as he helped her up the stairs.

"Mike Peters." The man said as John laughed out loud.

"Why is that funny?" Francois asked.

"He was the baddy in Poltergeist 2." John said as Francois pushed him up the stairs, one hand in the small of his back, the other on his backside.

John got to the top of the stairs and held out his hand for Francois, Francois took it and John helped him to the top of the stairs. He came onto the platform and slipped his arm around John's waist again.

"If we can get up the steps so can the rats." He whispered.

"Good thinking." John smiled.

"Just dirty." Mary said, shining the torch on her shoes. "Nothing some water won't rescue."

"Good." John said. "I hate taking stuff back to shops."

"Me too." She smiled at them. "Thanks for making this fun." She added. "How long have you two been together?"

"We aren't." Francois said.

"Shame." Mary smiled. "You make a great couple!"

"You will have to make other arrangements to reach your destination." The station official, Mike Peters, said as they climbed onto the platform. "The power is out from here all the way back to Finchley Central."

"Is there a bus stop near here?" Someone asked.

"Out of the station and on the other side of the road." The official told them.

"Drink and food?" A voice whispered in John's ear.

"Yes." John smiled as Francois slipped his arm around his shoulders and led him out of the station.

"John." Another voice, two years later, said. "John?" It was the MRI technician.

"Sorry." John mumbled. "I think I fell asleep!"

"You were snoring." The technician laughed.

"Sorry!" John blushed.

"Don't worry. It is all over, you will be pleased to know. Give me a moment and I will come around and take you out."

"OK."

The lights came on in the cocoon and John smiled, then took a deep breath as he remembered what he was here for.

And what he feared they would find inside his head.

"Did you see anything?" He asked as the technician pulled him out of the cocoon and he instinctively reached for Francois' hand.

"I don't do the reading the image thing." The technician smiled. "I just take the pictures and make sure they are clear. Working out what is inside your head is the consultant's job."

"Thank you, though." John said as he sat up on the bed and Francois came over with his clothes. "Is that it?"

"It's all for now." The technician smiled, putting the blanket and the gown back in a locker. "If the consultant thinks you need another scan he will send you back."

"OK." John said, getting off the bed and pulling on his jeans.

He stepped into his shoes and Francois pulled him into a hug.

"We can go?" He asked.

"You can go." The technician laughed.

"How do you feel?" Francois asked as they left the room and started off down the corridor.

"I feel fine, good actually." John laughed, slipping his arm around Francois' waist.

"You have an erotic dream in there?"

"Better." John laughed. "I was remembering how we met."

"What on the dark and scary train."

"Yes, on the dark and scary train!" John laughed. "And for that you can take me out to lunch!"

"Of course, monsieur." Francois smiled. "Where would you like to eat?"

"The Spaghetti House on Goodge Street." John said. "I want to go back to where it all began. Where you made me fall in love with you!"

"Like I said." Francois laughed. "When you meet the best looking Frenchman in London, you really don't stand a chance!"

"I don't think you actually said that."

"But I would have." Francois smiled. "You have to allow that."

"It sounds like something you would say!" John laughed. "I'll give you that."

"Je vous remercie." Francois whispered into his ear. "Maintenant, venez, notre déjeuner attend."

"Stop!" John laughed as they reached the end of the corridor and came into the foyer at the front of the hospital. "Else you'll be taking me home first!"

"I might take you in the car park." Francois smiled.

"Chance." John laughed skipping out of Francois' grasp and through the door to the outside world. "Would be a fine thing!"

"I can catch you, you know!" Francois called.

"That's the whole point!" John laughed.

And now it was three o'clock in the morning and he was sat curled up in one of the big armchairs they had in their living room. Dressing gown pulled around him and empty coffee cup on the floor. The diary, the one where he kept track of all his seizures, lay in his lap.

It had happened again.

Not as bad as it had been, but he had still had a seizure. He had woken in Francois arms, lost. He knew who he was with, but not where he was. It had scared him, and they had forgotten to leave the lamp on in the hall, so the room was dark, darker than he was used to - and that had scared him as well.

It had taken about half an hour, half an hour of tracking back to work out where he was. They had gone to the Spaghetti House for lunch. Called up Mary in the end, the woman from the train who was still as obsessed with shoes now as she had been back then. She had turned up with her current boyfriend, current patent leather boots, and the four of them had drunk themselves stupid in Soho before he and Francois had come home just before midnight.

They had fallen straight onto the bed, which is why the light hadn't been turned on in the hall. Clothes thrown all over the room then and then love, long, slow and languid. John smiled as he remembered that. Francois always liked to make love slowly and passionately when he was drunk, and John wasn't up to complaining. As long as it was Francois, he could make love to him as often and whatever way he wanted!

So, sex.

Alcohol got the better of both of them in the end and with promises of a continuation in the morning they had fallen asleep, John in Francois' arms, Francois breathing heavily onto John's neck. The feeling of his breath had reminded him of the scan earlier in the day, and that had reminded him of meeting Francois all over again and he had drifted off to sleep with memories of love and his lover spinning through his brain.

And now he was sat in the living room, the reminder of his illness laying in his lap. John picked up the diary and threw it across the room. It fluttered a bit and fell down the side of the sofa. Why was this happening to him? What had he done to deserve this? Just when his life was good, happy... why did this have to come along?

The tears started then.

His father had died of pancreatic cancer. They had only found it two weeks before he died, and then only because they had operated on him for a stomach complaint, a twisted bowel... They found the tumour while they were operating on him. Had closed him there and then. Had told his mother and him what they had found but warned them not to say anything to Bill. If he was to have any chance, any chance at all, he needed time to recover from the stomach surgery.

They had had to carry the burden of Bill's death for a week before he himself had been told. They had laughed, smiled, joked. Pretended life was normal - and all the time the despair had been gnawing away at them. John wasn't there when the doctor told him what was really wrong with him. His mother hadn't told him that it was going to happen on that day.

John had known though. The look on her face when he had met her in the hospital canteen. The look of complete and utter hopelessness. Of the end of days.

"I'm so sorry." He had whispered to her, and he had said the same to his father half an hour later.

"I'm so sorry, dad." He had whispered.

His father had reached out and stroked his hair. Held him there for a moment. He had no voice now. The cancer had taken that just after it took his strength. And over the next week it had taken all of him, one piece at a time.

His smile.

His face.

His joie de vivre.

His life.

They had all been there when he had finally stopped breathing. Two weeks and three days after they had found the tumour.

A release, perhaps, but also the most exquisite agony.

There are no words to describe the loss of your father.

None.

And now even the tears are empty, hollow.

But he still cried.