A/N To all those who have wanted an update on this story (if you still remember!) apologies. This was my first attempt at writing and I lost my way a little with it. Then the rubbish stuff happened with the show which put me in the kind of mood where I would probably have had Warren bury Brendan and Ste in the cellar, and that would never do :)


Brendan sat in his car, gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white from the pressure. He was still parked outside Ste's flat, desperately trying to think where he could conjure up £250,000 from. He knew he couldn't, and he knew Warren must know that he couldn't. No this was not about money anymore, this was going to be a fight to the death. It was the only way. Brendan shuddered at this thought. Yes he had killed a man before, but that had not been planned, that had been an instinctual act, a crime of passion. It was something that haunted him. He wouldn't say he regretted it as such, it had to be done to protect Stephen, but if there had been another way, any other way he would have taken it.

He was fairly sure thought that Warren had no such qualms about taking the life of another. In fact Brendan had idly wondered previously about how many people Warren had killed in the past, and whether Warren didn't get some cheap thrills from it. Brendan closed his eyes, and tried to calm the racing of his heart. Could he do it. Take a man's life deliberately and with full knowledge of what he was doing? The memory of Mitzeee lying on that cold hard, blood-stained warehouse floor filled his head again, only the soft female body was now replaced with that of Stephen's more defined, toned, angular figure.

Brendan snapped his eyes back open, and let out a low guttural growl. He pressed his foot down on the accelerator and speed in the direction of the village. He didn't know where Warren was holding Stephen, but he could have a fairly good guess. The club. Even to Brendan now it seemed quite poetic that he and Warren would have their final showdown there, and he was sure that would not be lost on Warren either.


Warren had disappeared for a moment. Ste didn't know where he had gone, and didn't much care. He was growing desperate. He cursed himself for being so weak. He knew that his weakness was drawing Brendan into danger, and most likely to his death. Ste knew he wasn't strong enough, even without the severe beating he had taken, to take on Warren physically, and was he was not even clever enough to try and outsmart him. But how could he give up? Brendan needed him.

Ste heard footsteps running down the stairs. He braced himself for Warren's return. The door flew open and Joel stumbled in through it. Ste gasped in surprise. What was Joel doing here, was he working with Warren. He was his son. Joel looked equally surprised to see Ste there slumped on the cellar floor.

"Ste?" he questioned. Then paused as his eyes scanned Ste's bloody face. "What's happened? Is Warren here? I'm looking for him there was a call from the hospital, Mitzeee's been attacked."

Ste wasn't sure if he could trust Joel, but he did seem genuinely shocked to see him in such a state. He decided to take a chance, what other choice did he have right now.

"It's Warren he hurt Mitzeee, he's after Brendan."

A dark anger passed over Joel's face, "what you talking about?"

Shit, Ste knew Joel could be his only hope for help, but he wouldn't be willing to help take down his own father, would he? Ste didn't have time to fill Joel in on what type of man his dad was, he just needed help and he needed it now.

Ste's heart froze as he heard the heavy fall of footsteps on the concrete steps down to the cellar again. "Please," he hissed at Joel. Joel looked confused, but as he looked Ste over again, taking in his battered and bruised body he seemed to make a decision. He picked up one of the champagne bottles from a crate on the side and concealed himself behind the open door.

As Warren entered the cellar he did not realise that he and Ste were no longer alone. He casually sauntered over to where Ste was quivering on the floor, and bent down to him. "No sign of lover boy yet then, ah the course of true love never runs smoothly, try not to feel too bad that he doesn't feel that strongly about you, we all make mistakes," Warren chuckled into Ste's face, again tracing down the side of Ste's face with the cold metal barrel of his gun.

As Warren was about to straighten back up he felt a sharp crack against the back of his head. He temporarily felt off balance and did not understand what had just happened. As a sharp pain seared through his head he dropped the gun he was holding. Before he could recover himself another heavy blow hit him from behind.

Ste watched in astonishment as Joel lifted the champagne bottle high before bringing it down on Warren, once, twice. He heard the heavy clang of the gun as Warren's grasp on it was broken and it fell from his hand to the floor. Whilst Warren seemed to be stunned Ste realised he needed to act quickly before Warren could regain control. He grabbed the gun from where it had landed just in front of him, and struggled to his feet, trying to ignore the blinding pain in his head and the crushed ribs that were restricting his breathing.

Ste had never held a gun before. He was surprised by the weight, the heavy coldness weighed ominously in his hand. He turned to Warren and pointed it shakily in his direction. Ste heard the door to the cellar open again suddenly. He turned to see Brendan barrel into the room. Ste felt an immense relief to see him but in the surprise his hand reflexively clenched. A loud bang reverberated around the room. A startled cry sounded, followed by the noise of a body slumping to the ground.

Brendan looked up from where he had fallen to the floor in shock. He tried to speak, but all that came from his mouth was a gurgling croak as blood began to seep down his chin, staining his lips crimson red.