Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they belong to Hollyoaks!

Summary: Brendan and Ste are both in dark places after everything that has happened. Can they help each other through it and help themselves along the way?

Fix You

Chapter One

Brendan slumped against his bedroom door, his shirt several feet away from him on the ground. It had been weeks since he had finally taken down Warren and after the initial exultation, he had felt a kind of emptiness settle around him. There was no purpose anymore, no drive to distract him from what he didn't want to think about.

He had completely isolated himself. He didn't want to speak to anyone. He still went to work, it was his club after all, but he spent the majority of his time in the office or working from home. He just couldn't face anyone right now. Cheryl had tried to get through to him; Brendan recalled attempts at heart-felt talks, tears, tantrums and eventual weariness. Brendan could relate; he was utterly destroyed emotionally and physically from everything that had passed the last few months.

There was nothing to animate him. The boys weren't allowed to visit until, as Eileen had put it, "he had sorted himself out". But how could he with no one to comfort his tired existence? Of course Brendan had thought of Stephen. No matter what else was going on, he was always in his mind. It drove Brendan near mad every night, remembering the scent of him all around him, the way his back would always arch to Brendan's touch, how his eyes would stare up at him full of belief and love. It always hurt that much more when he inevitably let him down.

That was one of the reasons why he hadn't attempted to speak to him; he was tired of dragging Stephen into his mess of a life. The lad was better off without him, always had been. And yet Brendan still missed him; he ached without him. There was nothing on this earth that would make him admit to it though.

"Brendan" Cheryl knocked listlessly on his door.

Brendan opened the door, startling Cheryl. "Breakfast" she said, pushing the plate into his hands.

"Thanks, Sis" Brendan mumbled, hesitating before kissing her cheek.

"What was that for?" Cheryl asked, amazed and pleased.

Brendan shrugged. "Ye do a lot for me, it's about time I appreciated it"

Cheryl smiled at him. "I'm glad you're finally getting it, love. You going in to work today?"

Brendan nodded, devouring a piece of toast. "Gotta shave first"

Cheryl breathed out a sigh of relief, causing Brendan to stare at her, his lips twitching into a smile. "What?"

"Just relieved" Cheryl laughed, fingering Brendan's beard.

"Well, couldn't stay this way forever" Brendan reasoned, brushing past Cheryl. "Make us some coffee, yeah?"

Cheryl suddenly grabbed him, holding on tight. "Nice to have you back" she whispered, pulling away and wiping at her eyes. Then she hit him across the shoulder.

"Ow!" Brendan protested.

"Don't you ever do that to me again, you hear?"

Brendan nodded, rubbing his shoulder. "I hear ye"

"Good" Cheryl smiled pleasantly again. "Go on then" she said, giving him a push. "Up you go"

xxx

Brendan, suited and booted, arrived at the club. He rubbed his hand over his newly shaven face and smiled. He was getting back to business now, where he belonged. If nothing else it would take his mind off of the dark thoughts he didn't want to ponder. One of which he was having now, about where Stephen was.

Walking behind the bar, refraining from pouring himself a whiskey, Brendan turned to Rhys who was on duty today.

"Where is the rest of the staff?" He asked indifferently.

Rhys looked at him strangely. "Isn't Cheryl in soon?"

"Funnily enough I know when my Sister is in" Brendan said dryly. "And the rest?" Brendan's patience was beginning to tire. "Stephen?" he asked bluntly, unable to restrain himself.

Knowledge filled Rhys' face. "Oh he's off sick"

Brendan raised an eyebrow. "He alright?"

Rhys shrugged. "Must be a bug, he's been off a while"

Brendan frowned. "He has?"

Rhys stared at him blankly. "Did you not notice?" He asked carefully.

Brendan turned away, unable to respond.

When Cheryl finally arrived for work, Brendan ushered her into the office, shutting the door behind them.

"What's wrong, love?" She asked, patting his arm.

"Stephen" Brendan said shortly. "Where is he?"

Cheryl looked suddenly uncomfortable. "He's…sick"

Brendan narrowed his eyes at her. "Sick? Really? Stephen rarely gets sick, his stomach's made of steel"

Cheryl stared at him blankly. "Well he is" she said, shuffling some papers on the desk.

Brendan stared at her in frustration. "Where is he really?"

"At home" Cheryl said quickly. She stared at Brendan with wide eyes. "Don't you go round there!"

"Why not?"

"You've only just got back on track, love…"

"And?"

"And it's not the time to be going round there saying all sorts when he isn't well"

"There's something ye aren't telling me"

Cheryl looked away. "Just leave it for now. If you feel the same in a week's time…"

Brendan shook his head. "I'll be back soon"

"Bren-" Cheryl protested, but he was already out the door.

Brendan was at Stephen's flat in no time. He was practically out of breath by the time he got there; he hadn't been taking care of himself for a while. He knocked on the door several times, stepping back to await an answer. None came. He knocked again, more forcefully this time.

"Stephen? I know ye are in there, open up"

Silence.

Brendan moved to the kitchen window, peering inside. "Stephen?" He called. "Come on, I'm worried about ye"

Brendan heard the latch open. He moved back to the front door, his hands twisting together impatiently. The door opened but no one was there. Brendan peered inside, not seeing anyone.

"Stephen?" He asked, his tone gentler.

"I'm here" a croaky voice replied. Brendan closed the door after him. He finally saw Stephen slumped against the wall.

"What's happened?" Brendan reached out to him but Stephen flinched away.

"What do you want?" Stephen moved back towards the living room, blanket draped over his shoulders.

"I…well, ye weren't in work"

"I haven't been in work all week" Stephen pointed out.

"I didn't realise"

Stephen stared up at Brendan from his place on the sofa. "Of course you didn't"

"I've had a lot on my mind…" Brendan murmured.

"And I haven't?" Stephen sighed, shivering as he pulled the blanket tighter around him. "I'm not in the mood for company"

Brendan stared around the flat. There were dirty dishes littering the sink, mess everywhere, clothes thrown around haphazardly. It wasn't normally like this.

"Where's Amy?"

"Gone to Mike's" Stephen mumbled, closing his eyes. "Probably just as well"

"Are they coming back?"

"Of course" Stephen said sharply. "Amy just thought I could use some…space"

"For what?"

Stephen shrugged. "Get back on my feet"

"But ye haven't" Brendan said, matter-of-fact.

"It isn't that simple" Stephen replied, staring at him. "You know that"

"What happened?" Brendan asked, sitting on the edge of the sofa. Stephen glanced at him and then away.

"What hasn't happened? My friend died, my lover got accused for her murder, my kids almost got taken away from me, my best friend…she…well, we had words" Stephen gulped visibly. "And then said lover gets out of prison, goes on a revenge mission, ignores me for weeks like he doesn't care and then suddenly decides to come over now, without warning" Stephen took a deep breath. "I'm not even dressed for fucks sake"

Brendan smiled a little at that. "Never stopped me visiting before"

Stephen crossed his arms. "I think you should go"

"Can I at least explain?"

"No"

"Stephen-"

"Just go!" Stephen shouted, standing up and throwing the blanket off of him. "I can't deal with you right now so just leave me alone!" Tears were already beginning to stream down his cheeks; his body was shaking uncontrollably.

"I can't" Brendan said, reaching for him without thinking.

"You have to…" Stephen said brokenly, near to collapsing on the floor. Brendan caught him in his arms, holding him close.

"Not possible" he murmured, stroking back Stephen's hair. "I'm sorry" he whispered.

"It's too late" Stephen said throatily, but he was still clutching Brendan's arm for dear life. "You've screwed me up too many times" Stephen laughed bitterly. "Who am I kidding? I was screwed up long before I met you"

"Don't say that…"

"Why not? It's the truth. Everything I touch turns to ash"

"Yer kids, they're here… they love you"

"How do I know I won't mess up with them as well?"

"Ye won't, I promise ye"

"I don't believe in your promises anymore!" Stephen raged, breaking out of Brendan's grasp. "Please just go"

Brendan shook his head. "I can't leave ye like this. I've been there, Stephen. I've been like ye are for weeks"

Stephen stared at him uncomprehendingly. "You were never around…"

"Neither were you, apparently"

Stephen's face screwed up in concentration. "I felt ill"

"No wonder" Brendan said, gesturing around them. "Ye are living in filth, Stephen"

"I haven't felt like…doing anything, since Amy took the kids"

"I don't understand. Cheryl said ye were doing alright when I was inside"

Stephen looked at him. "For a while, yeah. But you got out. I waited for you to come, I dreaded it. I lost sleep wondering when you would turn up here. I didn't know what you would do…"

"I wouldn't doanything" Brendan argued. "What could I possibly do to ye?"

Stephen shrugged. "I spent whole nights wondering the exact same thing" Stephen sat down again. "Perhaps I overreacted"

Brendan leaned against the wall. "We all do that"

Stephen looked at him more closely this time. "Why are you here?"

"I was worried about ye. Cheryl was acting strange about where ye were"

Stephen smiled. "She's been round most days, trying to cheer me up. She's been pretty down herself you know, because of you"

Brendan looked away guiltily. "Things are going to change"

"I hope so"

They were silent for some time.

Brendan began to move around the flat, tidying things away.

"What are you doing?" Stephen asked.

"Helping" Brendan replied reasonably.

"I didn't ask-"

"I am anyway"

Stephen watched him with suspicious eyes as he tidied the flat.

"What do you want from me, Brendan?"

Brendan turned to him, his face as open and honest as it would ever be.

"Nothing" he said simply.

Stephen frowned, watching as Brendan picked up some clothes from the floor.

"Then why-"

"Stephen. I can do the right thing sometimes, alright?"

Stephen nodded wordlessly, beginning to help Brendan tidy things away. "Thanks" he murmured once they were done. They stood awkwardly in front of each other. "I'll come back to work tomorrow" Stephen said quietly.

"That's good"

"And you'll be there too?"

Brendan shrugged. "Sure. If I can face it like I could today"

"What do you mean?"

Brendan sighed. "It doesn't just go away, Stephen. There are good days and bad days. Sometimes when I'm in that office I get so claustrophobic…" Brendan trailed off, wondering why he was telling Stephen such things.

"I remember the feeling, from when I was inside" Stephen said, to Brendan's surprise. "Just got to give it time"

Brendan turned away, not wanting Stephen to see his face. "Well, now I know ye are alright…" he walked towards the door.

Stephen hugged himself; he must have been cold in his frayed pyjama bottoms and thin t-shirt. "I'll be more presentable when you next see me" Stephen smiled faintly, looking up at Brendan through his long lashes.

"Good. That's good" Brendan found himself saying, unable to look Stephen in the eye anymore. "Ye take care of yerself"

"You too" Stephen said, scratching the back of his head.

Brendan let himself out, feeling strangely helpless. In his own misery he hadn't stopped to think how others might be feeling. People like Cheryl and Stephen in particular. He wanted to make things better for them, but how could he when he couldn't even help himself?

There was no easy fix, and Brendan didn't want one. If he was going to take anything positive away from his experience inside and everything else that had been piling up the last few months, it was that he was going to use his knowledge to help Stephen through whatever it was he was going through. He might be the last person Stephen needed right now but a part of him didn't care. He couldn't leave him to suffer, he had done enough to him in the past to cause such suffering and he couldn't bear to put him through any more. He was going to help, whether Stephen liked it or not. He was going to fix him, and maybe himself along the way.