Disclaimer: I own nothing of Green Street Hooligans. Le sigh...if only I did Pete Dunham would never leave my room.

Summary: A young Yank set adrift in Great Britain finds her purpose in a family divided.

Note: This story takes place post Green Street Hooligans. It's an AU story in which Pete is not killed. I'm in search of a beta and/or co-author if anyone is interested. Feedback is always welcome.

It was raining at Heathrow when the plane landed. She didn't see it as a good omen. Her mother had told her England was like that. She could hear her voice in her head trying to change her mind 'I'd never go anywhere in the British Isles. Dreary horrible weather is all they've got going for them'.

The flight had been bumpy and the drinks she'd partaken of had done very little to ease the war that was being fought in her gut. She'd never been a good flyer her Mum had reminded her repeatedly in the days that lead up to her departure. As she stood to retrieve her luggage she wondered what had been going threw her head when she'd decided to ignore her mother and move to England anyways. Had this been the change she really wanted? Did she really think she'd be happy a world away?

Second guessing her actions had become something second nature to the young woman in the last couple months. Was this move really what she needed? When she'd booked the flight it'd seemed like the perfect idea. A new start in a new place where nobody knew her. Looking back now though she was certain she could of started over in a new state and been perfectly fine, far away from the heart ache and turmoil of her old life. Her stomach flopped again as she and rest of the passengers filed off the plane. She watched sullenly as those around her met loved ones. A mother ran to her children wrapping the three little toe-headed tots in a hug. A man scooped the woman who'd been sitting next to her off the ground with a silly grin plastered across his face spinning her around in a moment of sheer joy.

Katie had no one waiting for her. She didn't know a soul in Europe let alone Great Britain. The overwhelming feeling of solitude hit her like a baseball bat to the head. Maybe she could still turn around. Run as fast as she could back onto that plane. Go back to the states and live happily ever after. With a sigh she resigned herself to the fate she'd chosen. There was no happily ever after waiting for her back in the States.

Unknowingly her feet carried her towards the baggage claim to pick up what little she had left of her life and push on.

- - -

Steve Dunham sat by his brothers bed, face planted firmly in his hands. He blamed himself for what had happened. He could of sited Shannon's brother, Matt, as the catalyst that had brought it all to a head or he could point a finger at Pete for initiating Matt into the GSE. Hell, he could even have blamed West Ham United. In the end he knew, Steve knew, though that it all traced back to him. He'd pulled Pete into the firm, handed over the reigns as leader when the Major had retired. He was the one that pushed Matt out the door with Pete. He was the one who didn't die. In the end it was all his fault. He was left alone. Shannon and the baby were gone, Matt was gone, and Pete...Pete had been lying in the same bed for three months. His body had slowly mended but his mind was locked away. The doctor said the coma could last days or it could be permanent. The rest of his life. That thought alone kept him up at night, caused him to lie awake near sobbing while the rest of district was asleep safe in their beds.

His Mum, at Steve's request, had moved Pete into the flat he'd once shared with Shannon. He refused to let his little brother out of his sight. Pete had the best home care nurses money could buy. Steve worked from home, himself still recovering from the fight that nearly killed him. Weekly he suffered through hours of physical therapy struggling to regain the fine motor skills that stroke that had followed the massive blood loss had caused. All his free time was spent at the bedside talking to his brother, laughing at childhood mischief, and the various women that had entered and left their lives. A couple days a week Pete's mates showed up they'd all set up shop in his room for a few hours before heading back to there lives. Even Pete's class regularly sent him letters. Pictures they'd drawn were hanging here and there about the walls.

A sigh slipped from the older Dunham brother's lips as he looked up at the face of the younger. Today had been a trying day. Steve had walked into his brothers room to find his nurse on the cordless phone. The dumb slag had been chatting it up with a friend while she tended to his brother. The words still rang in his ears.

"...Too bad though...he was a smart looking chap...he's nothing now though." The nurse had only realized her folly when she'd turned to find the Major in the doorway seething. He'd told her to get out, trying to control his temper. It hadn't been a pretty sight. They'd argued one on either side of Pete's bed. Steve knew his brother was inside waiting for the moments to open his eyes and start cracking smart arse jokes. He just needed time. His nurse on the other hand had her own opinions on the situation. Her opinions had fallen on deaf ears. He'd told her in no uncertain terms that her position in his household was no longer needed and as soon as she'd left he'd gone right to the phone and called the paper and placed a wanted ad. He could care for him for a while in the mean time. He'd learned enough from the various caretakers that had been in and out of the house but in the end he wasn't a nurse and someone would need to fill the position. He'd need help sooner than later.

He rose slowly, a sad smile crossing his face as he tucked his brothers West Ham United blanket under his arms. He looked peaceful almost as if nothing had ever happened. Steve ruffled the hair on the younger mans head before making his way out of the room.