Disclaimer: Don't own it. Never have, never will, just borrowing the characters.

Chapter 01: I Bless You Madly, Sadly As I Tie My Shoes

The post was late, but then, if it had been on time he would have been shocked. The post was never on time, especially not when it needed to be as he sat on the stairs and watched the letterbox, trying not to get impatient. He wanted the paycheque he was due, and he wanted it now so that he could pay off the bills he knew were also due in a few days time. However, he spared a glance down at his watch, if the post didn't arrive soon... Well, he could still cover the bills, he'd just have to break into funds he'd rather leave alone for now, leave for a later date, or rainy day, whichever came first, which given the local weather would probably be the latter but that was beside the point.

He decided then and there that he needed coffee, something, anything, with caffeine in because he was talking complete rubbish, which, granted, probably had something to do with not getting in the previous night until gone three. But that too was beside the point.

Right now however, he needed his paycheque and needed to get gone, it wouldn't do to be late. Not today.

He glared again at the door and clicked the lighter in his hand in irritation. Five more minutes, if the postman wasn't here by then he'd leave and make a run back tomorrow or the day after and hope Liam didn't try using the forwarding address he'd given in the meantime. In fact, he jumped over his bag and walked back through to the kitchen, tearing the bottom half off the note he'd stuck to the fridge – Thanks and See you around – he might as well just not leave an address at all. Worst that could happen was that it would be forwarded to his grandparent's house… Actually, no, he could already see the look on Aislin's face, that idea was no good either.

Fine, he'd just have to stay until the post arrived regardless of the time and make it up on the way, the Lancia could take it.

Decision finally made the lighter was clicked shut and returned to his pocket as he looked round the small, cluttered kitchen, feeling a little more at ease already, and set about making that much needed mug of coffee. It did matter that he might end up abandoning it to run out the door if the post arrived before it was fit to drink, but it gave him something to do other than sit on the stairs and watch the letterbox, and pretty much anything had to be better than that. He could almost hear his grandmother telling him a watched pot doesn't boil, which, really, it would, it just seemed like it didn't, he tried it once.

He could hear when the phone started ringing but let it continue to do so as he pulled down the instant coffee from the shelf and frowned at the lack of milk in the fridge. "I'm not answerin' it, so you can get lost…"

Unsurprisingly the person on the other end of the line wasn't listening as it switched to the answer machine and Liam's familiar voice drifted through, "If you're still there, Neil, pick up the damn phone will you?"

"Nope, I'm neither here nor pickin' up the phone."

The sugar was beginning to look a little strange too and he was pretty sure something had got into it that shouldn't have so he tossed it out while Liam continued on and Neil tuned him out as soon as he mentioned the previous night's riots. It was old news, all he would have to do was put the television on to know what happened. Something he definitely wasn't about to do; he'd seen enough of it already.

"I wouldn't know if t'weren't for the fact I were there, you twit."

In fact the self same rifle that had turned the seemingly peaceful protest into the riot it had become was currently in pieces in his bag at the bottom of the stairs along with his coat and car keys and a couple of other trinkets no teenager should really possess. It was stupid, and he knew that, but he was good at it, better even than he was at his day job and no one had to know, not really. It served its purpose – just like his day job – paying bills, making ends meet and collecting up the various bit of information he wanted, piecing together the events that everyone wanted to own up to but no one seemed to have committed.

The sound of the letterbox rattled through the room a while later and he dumped his empty coffee mug in the sink, he'd wash it up in a second, it wasn't fair to just leave to there, he just needed to know if his paycheque had arrived.

"Junk mail, junk mail, pizza menu…" The first two were tossed straight in the bin, the third stuck to the fridge. "Bill, love letter…" Those were left on the sideboard with a smirk, and then: "…Ah ha!"

One crisp white envelope addressed to him. There wasn't much else it could have been really as he ripped the envelope open and quickly checked over the slip of paper inside, relieved to find that everything was in order.

He quickly washed the mug he'd left in the sink and stuffed the paycheque in his bag, slinging the whole thing over his shoulder, and grabbed his coat and car keys. One last sweep of the hallway and kitchen to check he hadn't forgotten anything and he was done, the house keys he had been borrowing for the past few months sitting neatly by the phone and everything in order, just how it had been when he arrived, yet now the time had come he found he almost didn't want to leave.

It was different to when he had left his grandparent's house. For starters Liam knew he was leaving, it wasn't the middle of the night and he didn't have to sneak out hoping he wouldn't be caught. It was bizarre, but it was almost lonelier to be leaving now than it was back then, perhaps because of the fact people knew he was leaving and wouldn't worry about it, he felt much more like a stranger just passing through.

Shaking his head he smiled and shut the door behind him, walking down the path to where he'd left the Lancia, chucking his bag down on the passenger seat and taking off down the quiet street, but not before sparing one last look in the rear view mirror at the place he'd called home these last few months.

"See you around, Liam," he said, "Hopefully."

Business was business however, and Neil was quick to get back to it, stopping in at the bank in the next town over to pay in his cheque and transfer the money from his other account to Lyle's university fund, making sure it would get there before the rent and tuition fees were due. Satisfied that everything moneywise was in order he filled up the Lancia at the petrol station and grabbed a drink and sandwich he could eat while driving, turned up the volume on the radio and started the journey back north.

He hadn't got more than a few miles before the phone rang though, caller ID telling him it was Liam again. Liam never rang his mobile, never rang anyone's mobile and they'd all always made fun of him for it, so he didn't have to think twice before flipping it open, "What's up?"

"Finally! You're damn near impossible ta get hold of you know that?"

"Been told a time or two." The relief in his friend's voice was all too evident as he tried to keep his own light and reassuring. "What'd you need me for?"

"How far outta town are you?"

"Not far."

Well, not far from a town, Liam hadn't specified which town it had to be.

"D'you think you can get a hold of Aiden's brother?"

Michael lived on the opposite side of the city and in the opposite direction to the way Neil was currently headed.

Checking the road was clear he performed a sharp u-turn and started speeding back the way he'd just come.

"What'd you want me to tell him?"

There was silence at the other end of the line.

"Liam, what happened?"

Liam's voice was quiet and fast, the words tumbling over each other, and Neil could see him pacing up and down the hospital car park, frowning and running his fingers through his hair, "You must know 'bout the riots last night, they're all over the news an' it's all anyone's talkin' about up here, an' well, Aiden were out visitin' Lisa, an' now they're both here." Liam stopped, and Neil knew what was coming. "It ain't lookin' good. I got hold of Lisa's parents, they're here now, but Michael's as bad as you for pickin' up the phone."

The attempt at a joke was appreciated, even if it was empty laughter, and half the things he wanted to say in reply he couldn't because he was the voice of reason. That was the role that was expected of him; he was everyone's older brother no matter what he did in his free time.

"I'll go an' get him for you, Liam, but you gotta go and take a break. Have a drink, somethin' to eat and relax, else one of these days you're put yourself in a hospital bed."

"I know, and," his tone was sincere and Neil wanted to tell him to save it for someone who actually deserved it, "thanks."

"No worries, I'll be there soon."

Hanging up he swore and threw the phone down, slamming his foot on the accelerator and flicking off the black Porsche that had actually been obeying the rules of the road as he ran another red light. If the police hadn't caught him yet they wouldn't now, he figured.

If he'd have known his friend was going to be in town he'd have suggested that they go elsewhere, meet later somewhere safe, regardless of whether or not he'd have been able to make it. They'd often been to Smyths in the past and that was somewhere they would have had to be out of the city centre when everything went down. He could have done it and then this wouldn't have happened.

Done was done though, and the fact of the matter was he needed to find Michael and get him to the hospital as soon as he possibly could. 'Not looking good' didn't give him much idea of time, other than it was quite possibly not long at all, and Neil stopped his train of thought there before the image of Aiden lying in a hospital bed could blur into one of Lyle and he focused instead on running through the list of places Michael could be and other people he could call who might know.

The fool was always out of reach when he tried calling, but Neil was nothing if not stubborn as he scoured the streets having received no answer at either Michael's flat or his girlfriend's having rung the bell and yelled loudly through the letterbox at both places, much to the annoyance of Michael's neighbour who had come to see what all the noise was about. Apparently Michael had left early that morning. The elderly lady knew because she'd been woken up by the amount of noise he'd been making.

Neil had made his apologies and excuses and left hastily, kicking the door on his way out and trying his friend's brother's phone again, letting it ring and ring in the hope he might pick up. He didn't.

Leaning against the car door and staring up at the apartment block Neil tried again to get his thoughts straight, there had to be some sort of logic to it.

"Think, where the hell's he gonna be? Too early ta be the pub, no uni today, ain't no one's birthday so he ain't gonna be shopping, no relatives and no job…"

Granted Michael had been trying to remedy the last point, but he'd not been having much luck; there weren't many jobs available right now to anyone, which was one reason Neil had taken the one he'd been offered up north, even if it did mean giving up a guaranteed place to live. Money was, unfortunately, more important right now–

"He wouldn't…" Neil glanced down at the phone still in his hand, and began scrolling through the numbers, answering his own question. "He would."

This time the call was picked up quickly, and Neil was met with laughter, real laughter unlike the stressed out laughter he had heard from Liam, "Yo, what's up?"

"Put Michael on the line."

"What?"

"Just do it, I know he's there."

He knew he was being sharper than he should, but Aiden had always hated his brother's gambling habits and it was sods law that's where Michael should be when Aiden needed him the most.

"Hello?" Michael's voice echoed down the line, unsure and confused.

"Go an' wait outside, I'll be there in five."

"Neil, is that you, mate?"

"Just do it, I don't care if you're in the middle of a game, if you're not there then I'm comin' in to get you."

"Chill out, what's wrong with you?"

"No questions, Michael, just be there."

Snapping the phone shut he knew he should have been a little kinder, a little more understanding. Everyone needed money, everyone had to get it somehow, and not every way was a good way. He knew he was a hypocrite for telling off others when he was paid to kill.

"Doesn't matter," he said to himself, throwing the bag which had been sitting on the passenger seat into the boot with a little more force than was necessary and getting back into the car, following the roads down and round to the old building where he'd find Aiden's brother, hopefully being good and waiting outside to be picked up. "It doesn't bloody matter."

Michael's expression promised an irritated lecture at being treated like a child, but Neil wasn't going to listen, and didn't even give him a chance to start, cutting in as his friend's brother got into the car, his own eyes fixed on the road.

"Aiden's in hospital."

He watched in the mirror as Michael's anger turned to shock and then to fear at those three simple words.

"What happened? Why didn't anyone tell me earlier?"

"Liam tried. You didn't answer your phone. So he sent me."

Michael didn't have a reply for that, and in some ways Neil was grateful for the silence that filled the rest of the short journey across the city. It meant he didn't have to think about it, about where he was going and why, and the selfish part of his mind was trying to come up with any excuse not to see Aiden. He didn't want to be seen as someone good when he knew what he would see was his fault.

He'd hardly had time to park the car before Liam was running in their direction – not in uniform, Neil noted with more than a touch of worry – and Michael was fumbling with the seatbelt and tumbling out.

Stopping long enough to lock the car Neil hurried over to meet them, already both talking quickly, in Liam's case with wild hand gestures as well, filling Michael in on details which were probably only meant for family members so Neil walked a little ways behind, carefully not listening.

Inside the building was the same as ever, whitewashed and too clean, as they followed Liam down hallways and up staircases, past patients and parents and loved ones.

"Here." Liam stopped suddenly and turned, pointing to another door, and he looked as if he were about to add something more but didn't, instead just stepping back to let Michael past, watching the door close behind him and blocking out the sound of the broken voices drifting through from the other side.

Finally Neil spoke, "How is he?"

Liam gave a small smile, "Probably a little better now."

"And you?"

"I'll…"

He trailed off, and Neil knew why; 'I'll live' seemed a cruel thing to say right now.

"I'll go grab us a coffee, you eaten anythin' yet?"

Liam shook his head, "Couldn't bring meself to."

"Well you will now, as I said earlier…"

"Yeah, I know. I'll just," he shrugged and looked around, almost lost in a place he knew better than his own back garden, "wait here I guess."

Walking back the way they had just come, making note of the floor and the room he'd left his friend outside of, Neil trusted he'd run into a canteen sign or a vending machine sooner or later as he sorted through the change in his pocket – at least enough for two coffees and a bag of crisps and chocolate bar for Liam. That sounded like a good plan, though he was fairly sure Liam would point out that Neil too should eat something. Sometimes they were just as bad as each other. Which was probably one reason Liam had chosen this career path – he was good at mothering people. It didn't, however, explain so well Neil's choice of career, but he'd long since decided that he was more than a little different to most people. Demented more like, Lyle would have said, and Neil was sometimes inclined to agree. He couldn't ever imagine himself going into medicine.

The search for caffeine and food took longer than he'd hoped, but less time than he'd expected, returning to where Liam still sat, not seeming to have moved an inch since Neil had left as he pressed the hot drink into his friend's cold hands, "Here."

"Thanks."

He sounded tired, something he hadn't been throughout his previous discussion with Michael.

"You sure you're alright?"

"You sure you can't stay, mate?" Liam's laugh didn't sound real either, hollow, and he shook his head, not looking up from his coffee and Neil wanted to say yes, sure he'd stay, give them all a hand, anything he could to help, but the logical part of him knew he couldn't – he needed the money the new job was offering. "Nah, don't answer that, it weren't fair."

"Thanks."

The coffee wasn't great, but it wasn't as bad as the stuff they used to get at the office. That had been, he was pretty certain, actually made from mud, or some form of mud-substitute. The coffee became a mindless distraction from the door in front of them, mindless and desperate but he wasn't sure he wanted to admit the latter just yet, no matter how obvious it was as the question he didn't want to ask but had to know the answer to rolled around inside his head.

"Liam?" He said finally, glancing in his friend's direction. "Am I even allowed ta know?"

His friend started to speak, a doctor's tone and phrasing, recited word perfect from some textbook or another, but then shook his head and started again. "Not really, not the details anyway, but," his hand tightened around the now empty polystyrene cup, easily crushing it, his voice even tighter, "it ain't likely."

Neil had half expected the news; it had just hung in the air, in the way Liam had been acting ever since the phone call. It still came as a shock though, to know another friend was on the other side of that door and one step away from death's door.

"Is there anythin' I can do?"

"Unless you can turn back time-" Liam bit off the sharp retort, "I think you'd be better off askin' Michael that, he's gonna be the worst hit."

"What about Lisa?"

"She'll be fine with a few stitches and bit o' rest, Aiden were always quick to play the knight in shinin' armour."

Aiden had saved her life, whatever it was that had taken his life would have taken hers if he hadn't acted the way he had, and Neil had to wonder if there had been a better way. He knew there was – none of it could have happened in the first place. No one fighting ancient wars, the reasons for which were long forgotten, no one being hired to kill, or start a riot, or finish up like this, finish up stupidly broken in too many ways too count.

Liam was right though; there was nothing he could do, that any of them could do, not really. However, his cheque book was still in his pocket and he got that out now, stealing a pen from Liam. He could always rely on Liam to have a pen somewhere about his person, never knew when it might come in handy, he said, like right now.

Resting the paper on one knee he wrote quickly, filling in the blank spaces before tearing it out and folding it in half and then in half again, writing Michael's name on the outside and handing both pen and paper back to Liam.

"It ain't much, but it might help."

"He won't accept it."

Neil could see the gambling club and hear Aiden's complaints and worries about his brother's habits, and could see the look of fear and horror when he'd picked Michael up off the back alley street.

"Tell him it's for Aiden, an' tell him I'm sorry." He couldn't stay any longer, and not because he was beyond late for the meeting with his new boss. "Let me know, okay?"

He didn't have to say what, Liam nodding in acknowledgement, "I will."

Then he was all but running for the exit without actually running, not looking back, and gave a hasty apology to the man he accidentally ran into on the stairs. Even through his slightly manic mind he noted that wearing shades indoors was a little strange, and the dark-haired stranger's curious smile more than a little out of place in a hospital ward.

Only once he was outside, in the fresh air, did he slow down and breathe, searching his pockets again for the car keys and looking back up at the large, white building behind him.

"I am sorry you know."

Money wouldn't fix things, wouldn't bring Aiden back, but it might be enough to keep Michael on his feet and give Aiden a decent burial.

It wasn't raining out in the car park, in fact it was turning into a very sunny afternoon, but he'd written the cheque for money from his so-called rainy-day savings, because back in there he knew it would be.