Title and lyrics taken from the song No Room For Doubt by Lianne La Havas.

i know you know

that this way leads me out

outside, too bright

you're within, i'm without

"Wake up sunshine."

Ste's groggy as Hell and completely ready to punch whoever the fuck is shaking him right now. He throws his arm out and it connects with a body. He gets a smack in the face for his trouble and it does wonders to bring him fully back to consciousness.

"Wha?" he's blinking and trying to sit up but there's two strong arms holding him down by his wrists. He's still confused and his cheek is throbbing and then the person above him comes into focus and he remembers slowly where he is and what happened last night. He stills in the man's grip, tries to look pacifying by spreading the fingers of his pinned hands like he's surrendering.

Brendan's weird mate Walker.

Brendan's weird mate Walker who he didn't phone to pick him up from the hospital, who Ste hadn't seen around in weeks.

"Why?" is all he can manage to choke out, high-pitched and panicked.

"It'll all become clear, don't worry," is his cryptic answer. Don't worry, nice one.

Ste's heart pounds frantic as Walker pushes his trapped hands further above his head so he can lay one arm across them both. He rubs a thumb over the pulse point in one of his wrists; trails his hand down, gathering the sleeve of his shirt as he goes and starts kneading the soft skin at the inside of his elbow.

He makes a sad tutting noise and then without warning pulls out what Ste sees for a fraction of a second to be a hypodermic needle, before sticking it right in his arm and releasing the plunger.

"A little something so that I don't have to worry about you."

He's going on pure instinct when he kicks up hard and knees Walker in the back but it's no use. The drug's in him now and even though Walker's slightly winded from the blow it just makes him lean his weight more heavily on Ste until he stops struggling as lassitude overtakes him.

"Good boy," Walker croons. He gets up and heads to the door, "I'll give them a few more hours to worry about you and then we can get down to business. Brendan called by the way, so someone must be savvy enough to have pinned your disappearance on him."

He snorts gracelessly from the bed.

"Everyone in the village y'mean?" the drugs are making him feel stupid.

Walker actually laughs.

"Good, keep that humour. You're gonna need it, I think."

Ste lies on the bed slipping in and out of consciousness for what feels like forever. His dreams are terrifying snatches of dark shapes and agonised sounds and when he awakes he hallucinates the same but worse. The shapes are people and they're screaming at him, telling him he's going to die and his children are crying and there's nothing he can do to comfort them because he's already dead.

There's a cool, comforting sensation across his face and it feels so wonderful that he moans. He flutters his eyes open and tries to focus.

"Hello, blue eyes," there's a face surrounded by a halo of light. Great, he is actually dead.

The face is muttering what sounds like nonsense at him.

"...far too much... different when it's injected... aren't you lovely..."

"Alice get out."

Ste struggles further into lucidity at the familiar voice. Walker. Not dead then, although not a huge improvement.

The woman he assumes is Alice is glaring in the direction of the door. She has a damp cloth in her hand, gets up and throws it irritably at Walker. They share some whispered words that he can't make out and the door slams shut.

He feels out his body as Walker makes his way over, realises he's seriously burning up and every limb feels heavy and unresponsive. The rise and fall of his chest feels laborious.

"The missus?" he croaks out.

"In a manner of speaking. Sorry, by the way," he says, sitting beside him like he's keeping vigil over a sick friend, "I might have, slightly, given you a tiny overdose."

"Oh, is that all?"

Evidently Walker won't be tolerating any of his good 'humour today' because he's suddenly licking warm blood from his freshly split lip.

"I said sorry, Steven," his whole body shudders at Walker using his name like that, "it's not polite to throw an apology back in someone's face."

He stares down at him expectantly.

"O-okay, yeah," he says in a shaking voice. Quick as a flash Walker's got his hands tight round his throat and he's leaning in close.

"That's not very sincere."

"It's okay," he wheezes out, clawing at Walker's arms ineffectually because he's ODing on fucking rohypnol or fuck knows what and he's so weak. Ste's vision blurs as his eyes start to water and then everything starts to turn dark. He thinks 'I'm going to die' and experiences a terror so powerful and all-encompassing that it blocks out every other sensation, even the painful grip of Walker's hands as they choke his last breath from him.

Then they cease and he drags in lungfulls of air, his hands flying out to grip something, anything, closing in on Walker's forearms as he trails the tips of his fingers across Ste's sore neck gently before sliding them up to the sides of his face and into his hair. Then he's leaning in and placing a small kiss on his lips.

Ste's still breathless and now reeling in shock; bracing himself for something worse, another kiss or another punch and even drugged and half unconscious the irony is not lost on him.

"Good boy, keep on behaving yourself and everything will be fine," Walker smiles at him with what looks like genuine affection and Ste doesn't know if he's just trying to put him on edge or if he's actually insane. He thinks maybe he should redefine his definition of unpredictable, change out his mental dictionary picture from Brendan to Walker.

"Now here's what's going to happen. We're going to have a chat and then we're going to make a phone call. How's that sound?"

"Sounds good," he rasps out through his bruised windpipe.

"Good," Walker raises the hand with the washcloth in it, pats it over his hot forehead and says, quite sheepishly, by way of explanation, "you're burning up from the drugs but it's okay, I'll be more careful next time."

Ste eyes close involuntarily and he lets out a whimper, next time.

"Shhhh, look at me I need to know you can understand what I'm asking you."

He drags his heavy eyelids open and tries to focus. He needs to stay calm and give Walker what he wants. He isn't going to give this psycho any more reason to hurt him.

"Good. Right, first question," Walker continues to dab the cool cloth over his face and it helps, "how long were you and Brendan together?"

Now that he wasn't expecting. Ste knows he's scrunching his face up because he can't have heard that right surely? But Walker's chuckling under his breath and looking at him knowingly.

He's suddenly struggling to sit up, sick of this vulnerable position he's stuck in. Walker, the bastard, actually helps him to prop himself against the headboard.

"What? I don't know - " he rushes out without thinking because he's still a little dumbfounded by the question and he knows immediately that's the wrong answer. He startles violently as Walker slams his hand into the headboard right next to his head and he frantically stumbled over his words to appease him. "No, that's not - I really don't know. It wasn't like a proper relationship!"

Walker scrutinises him for a moment like he can sense lies or something, a human polygraph.

"So you were just fucking?"

"No, it was more than that," he blurts out, far too quickly again, far too much like a protest and he's giving too much away because Walker keeps blind-siding him and he's reeling too much to get a grip on anything solid.

"So how long were you two fucking and more?" Walker asks sardonically.

"Umm," and now he has to think hard because he can't even classify what their relationship was let alone when it started and ended... and started. And ended. "Almost a year, on and off."

"What do you mean by on and off?" Walker fires off, fast as a bullet. He'd make a great police officer, Ste thinks abstractly. The village could do with one of them.

He feels a little more prepared this time, though, tries to gauge how much detail to give because even though he absolutely is not going to get himself killed here, Ste does feel enough loyalty to Brendan to want to protect him against yet another person who's trying to hurt him.

"He was trying to hide it," he stops but Walker looks expectant so he goes on, "couldn't admit that he was gay so we argued a lot."

"Argued?"

"Argued, broke up, whatever you wanna call it."

"Just arguing?"

He thinks he must be hallucinating again because there's no way Brendan told Walker about that part of their relationship, surely.

"Like I said, arguing and breaking up," he says tentatively but knows immediately he's said the wrong thing as Walker's face darkens.

"Really? Because I've heard a few rumours around town, idle chit chat probably but I'd like to run it by you anyway," he says intently, "good looking boy, shame he's always getting in fights, black eyes and cut lips but then people find out about him and the local nutjob and it all comes out - literally."

He chuckles at his own little joke and looks at Ste expectantly for a moment.

"Okay, I'll go on. Turns out he's a battered boyfriend, a coincidence as it happens but people feel sorry for him regardless of his past. The abuser becomes the abused."

"Alright!" Ste has to stop him, each word piercing more holes in his already shattered armour, "yeah it's true, he used to hit me. If you already knew why ask?"

Walker seems to let that outburst slide in favour of actually answering him. "I have to admit I didn't actually believe it until you just said it, I find the village to be a place filled mostly with idiots spewing ignorant gossip. I'm disappointed, I suppose."

Ste thinks he actually looks it too.

"The guy who's kidnapped me is disappointed?" Ste asks, doesn't even try to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

"Brendan talks a big game about protecting the people he cares about, it was the only thing I respected about him," Walker answers with a shrug. "So he abused you, yet you were still on and off?"

"Yeah."

"Why?" Walker asks eagerly as if they're getting down to the real point of all this, "why go back to him?"

A lie is going to sound like just that. Why do you go back to someone who hurts you time and time again? There's no other answer he can give but he can't bear to say it. His body is physically rejecting it and he turns his head away from Walker and his stupid, magical, healing cloth.

"Answer the question, last warning." He grabs Ste's face roughly and pulls him back to face him.

"I loved him."

Walker smiles triumphant and Ste feels like he's been flayed, every nerve ending exposed, because he's not just physically vulnerable here anymore. Walker's picking at scars he's desperate to pretend have healed and he can feel the blood start to flow. Any more digging and he's going to have to examine that wound and he already knows he's not ready to face what's under there.

"And did he love you?"

"Brendan can't love anyone," he says quickly, too quickly.

"Some people might believe that. I know you're not one of those people, Ste."

"Why do you care?" there are tears in his eyes and he hadn't even cried up until now but he's exhausted and weak and his heart is throbbing like a bruise.

"How about this? You answer my question, honestly, and then I'll answer yours."

He sniffs and rubs his hands over his face, he refuses to look as destroyed as he feels when he says this.

"Yes, he loved me," the words feel like they're wrenched out of him and suddenly he aches for Brendan, wants to see his stupid mustache and his stupid face more than he wants to see a full on police rescue squad.

Walker nods thoughtfully.

"I care because everything I'm doing here depends on that one fact. I'm going to tell you something important now so listen carefully," he leans in closer like they're sharing a secret, "someone like Brendan, someone who needs control over everything, someone who plays his cards close to his chest and pretends not to need another soul in the world; they're the easiest people to break. You just have to know their weak spot. In this case it happens to be you."

"So, what? You're gonna kill me to just to fuck with Brendan?" he asks hysterically, feels goosebumps break out on his skin despite his soaring temperature.

Walker gives him a slow smile and for a panicked second Ste thinks he's hit the nail on the head.

"No son, I'm no murderer," he says breezily, "I need a little favour from Brendan and you happen to be my bargaining chip."

"What, you say jump and you think Brendan's actually gonna do it!?"

"He'd do anything for you, Ste," Walker states like it's fact.

"Maybe a long time ago but you don't know that now!" his voice is high-pitched and cracking and it's killing his throat.

"Shut up," and Ste does, with some difficulty - instinct to stay alive just marginally outweighing his ingrained need to waffle. "After everything he's done you still rush to his aid, even when he acts like he doesn't want it and you don't think he'd do the same for you? Even when your life depended on it?"

Ste stays silent, doesn't like to think too closely about what Brendan might or might not be feeling regarding himself. He doesn't have the strength to untangle that mess at the best of times.

"That's pretty messed up. You really are just another victim of Brendan Brady, aren't you?" Walker says softly, voice all pity and righteous anger, "I'm sorry," and he looks it.

"Don't call me that, don't talk about us like you've got us all sussed out, who the fuck are you?" Ste asks hysterically, more freaked out by Walker's behaviour now than when he was throttling him and his smug, all-knowing attitude is making him angry. How many more people feel the need to come and make assumptions at him about their messed up relationship, like he's too stupid to understand, like they could ever know Brendan better than Ste does.

"I'm someone who could have helped you," he says after a moment's consideration, calm in the face of Ste's rage, "but that was a long time ago, too. I'm not a bad person, Ste. I'm just doing what I have to do. I know you can understand that."

"Bit hard to understand in my position," he says without thinking, hates that Walker's trying to play nice while Ste's drugged and locked up at his mercy.

"Hmm, well understand this then," Walker says seriously, "Brendan will do this, and he will do it because he loves you. Not loved. Actually loves you. I'm not telling you this to fuck with your head, Ste. I think you deserve to know. I think it's way more important to you than you let on."

In a second all the anger drains out of him and Ste just shakes his head tiredly, doesn't even ask how Walker knows this, why people keep telling him this like it's just that simple. It's never been that simple for them and nobody will ever understand that. He's hazy with drugs, emotionally drained and aching all over - he can't take much more.

Walker seems to sense it and he's looking at Ste softly with something close to regret.

"Let's make that phone call."

He pulls what Ste recognises as his own phone out his pocket.

"It's more poetic," he shrugs and finds Brendan's number, "you speak when I tell you, got it?"

He nods and Walker presses call.

Brendan picks up in a matter of seconds and Ste hears his muffled voice as Walker lets him speak to himself for a while before finally bringing the phone to his ear.

"Brendan," he says brightly and after a moment, "yeah it's me, not surprised? Oh, I'm looking at him now. Yes, he's alive. Nothing that won't heal. Idle threats Brendan, we both know you're going to do whatever I ask right now so let's just stop the posturing. Okay, hang on."

Walker switches on the speakerphone and Ste can finally hear Brendan and he's so overwhelmed by it that he feels like he's gone back in time, back to when that voice meant everything.

"Steven?" he sounds honestly wrecked and Ste can't even speak past the lump in his throat. He's lost in some huge tidal wave of emotion until he feels a sharp pain across his face and realises Walker just slapped him and is now gesturing impatiently. What happened to the pity?

"Brendan yeah, I'm here," he says through his abused throat, voice sounding like sandpaper scraping across gravel.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah I'm fine. What about Amy? The kids?" he asks the question he's been desperate to for hours, his dreams filled with a million awful things that could have happened to them, his waking stupor the same. Even though he knows now that all this is nothing to do with him, he still can't help but be afraid.

"They're fine, Steven, I've made sure they're okay. Don't worry," Brendan answers quickly, knows how important it is.

"Thanks, thank you," he can breathe much easier now like the crushing grip of fear has loosened from his lungs slightly. He trusts Brendan when he says he'll look after his family, trusts him to carry on looking after them even if something happens to him.

"Well this is touching but I'm afraid this isn't a social call Brendan," Walker interrupts but his expression belies his words because he looks very much interested. "I need something from you."

"What?" Brendan asks straight away, sounds like Walker could ask him to build a rocket and bring him back some moon rock and Brendan would get right on it. "Wait, not in front of Steven."

Walker raises his eyebrows at him for a moment, looks considering. Ste shrugs, doesn't care what it is he asks. Brendan's done worse to protect him already and Ste got over that quickly enough to be somewhat concerned about his own sanity. After hearing his voice, Ste doesn't doubt now that Brendan will do what Walker wants.

"Okay," Walker says into the phone slowly, looks curious at Ste's lack of reaction.

"Steven, don't worry okay? I'm gonna get you out of this, you're gonna be fine I promise. You have to trust me okay?" he sounds filled completely with grim resolution.

"I do," Ste replies and he finds, for the first time in a long time, it's absolutely true.