disclaimer: I don't own McFly


For the second Sunday in a row, Harry woke up in a room in a house he had many memories in, with a hangover that could put a guillotine to shame, with a Fletcher stood over him.

Upon seeing his former band mate for the second time in such a short time after having not seen him in years, Harry jumped up.

"You know that talk you refused last week? We're having it. Outside, now." Before Harry had even a second to react, Tom was already gone.

Harry quickly followed after him, only coming to a stop when they reached the back deck. He wasn't sure what he had expected when Tom told him they were going to talk, but it wasn't the other two members of their former band – which was exactly what greeted him outside.

Dougie sat in a lounger at the far end of the deck, looking as though he hadn't slept much – Harry wouldn't have been surprised if that was fact. Even though it was his house, Dougie looked like he was the one who wanted to leave the most.

Danny, though still most of the way across the deck, relaxed on a chair closer to the open door. Tom took a seat at the table, where three retired mugs now sat empty of their contents, giving Harry the impression that they had been out her for a while.

Harry sat in one of the deck's other chairs, looking highly uncomfortable and panicked.

"What are you doing here?" Danny demanded. "Tom told us what you said last week, but you suddenly decide to leave the band almost four years ago, we don't hear anything from you in all that time, and then – bam! – you're here twice. What is going on?"

Harry remained in a tentative silence. He had an idea – a very good idea – of how the others felt towards his wife. She had been the band's own Yoko Ono, and had helped to mess everything up with their former band.

"Kensie wants a divorce," Harry began, thinking back to the conversation he'd had the previous day. Unable to look away from his hands, he continued, "She said she doesn't want me around my kids, either." As he spoke, tears started spilling down his face, unable to be contained any longer.

"Mate," Tom began, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder, "with news like that, you could have just called or come over. There wasn't any need to get completely smashed and scare the… everything out of Doug… and Lara."

Dougie shot Tom a glare. "Sorry," Harry mumbled to his former band mate and best friend.

"Now, while we're all really sorry about that, Harry," Tom went on, "there's really nothing we can do about it. That's on you and Kensie." Tom paused a moment before continuing. "Okay, well, we need to figure everything else out."

"Look, guys, I'm really sorry about the way I left things. I was being stupid and irrational, and I thought I was doing the right thing for my family. But almost every day since I walked away from the band, I've regretted it. I mean, I love Connor and Libby, and I love seeing them every single day, but I never should have given what we had up.

"And when Kensie suggested I give up my lifestyle of being a travelling monkey – her words – I honestly had no idea that by that she meant that only I had to stop travelling for work, and that she would turn around and get a job where she's away just as – if not more – often than the band would have taken me.

"God. I don't know if I can express just how sorry I am for everything."

"You turned your back on us," a small voice piped up after an elongated pause. The former band all looked to where Dougie was now sitting up on the lounger. "It was one thing to turn down the band, it was another, completely different thing to turn down our friendships. To hide away like you did, to not let us still be a part of your life – to not be part of our lives – that's the part I find hardest to forgive and forget."

"There were so many times I wanted to call you," Harry replied, seeming to find his hands interesting once again. "But after the first couple months, the voice in the back of my head kept relaying the same message, over and over again, about how it was too late to call you – I had made my decision, and now I had to live with it."

"But you didn't have to," Danny replied rationally. "I for one wouldn't have cared if a decade passed before you called and I would have gladly accepted it. Dude, we've missed you." There was a brief pause before he continued. "Dougie's been upset with you most of the time you've been away – he used to tell us how much he hated you at the beginning – and while he hasn't said so in a while, I know he's still upset with you. But I know, deep down, he's missed you just as much – if not more – as Tom and I have."

"It's not that we needed the band, but we needed each other," Tom added. "Honestly, the band was fun, but growing up with you lot has made the whole thing worth it. If it weren't for this ragtag group we have, that band wouldn't have been what it was. Those friendships we had, that's what made the band what it was. Those same friendships are what made us who we were – who we are."

A few hours later, the lads had come to a decision. While it would take more than just a morning making up and fooling around – almost like old times – they were well on their way to recovery.

Harry was told that he was moving out of the hotel room he had been staying in and would move in with Tom – no Dougie – no Danny until everything got straightened out with Kensie and the kids and he got back on his feet again.

"Georgia, Alex, I'm home," Danny called as he and Harry walked through the front door of his house after having picked up Harry's things and car from the hotel and driven back.

"Say 'hi Dada', 'hi Dada'!" Georgia cooed at the infant as she helped the infant walk. She almost let go of the little boy's hands when she saw Harry standing there. "Harry! It's so lovely to see you again!"

"Dada!" the little boy crooned, pulling free of his mother to clap his hands excitedly. Just before he tumbled to his butt, Danny swooped him up, tickling his tummy. The infant's giggles echoed in the small room.

"Georgia, beautiful as always," Harry replied, smiling at the family in front of him before placing a kiss on her cheek and giving her a hug.

"Harry," Danny broke in, a smile spread across his face, "this is our son, Alexander. Alex is my favourite guy in the whole world!" It was evident that Danny was proud of his beautiful son – beautiful partially because he had his Mum's good looks, even with the reddish-blonde curls that topped his head, but also because of the parents he was lucky enough to have.

an: thank you. :x