Bonjour! Sorry that this is so late and short but I've been really busy studying for my French exam. This chapter was actually really hard to write and I'm not too happy with it.

Thank you so much for everyone who has taken the time to review my work.

Facing My Demons

Ste didn't know what the hell he was doing. Sitting cross-legged on some country road in the middle of nowhere, Brendan beside him as they shared a luke-warm bottle of water he had bought in some gas station miles back. Things had changed again, between them. Brendan wasn't the enemy, never had been really, and they couldn't play around anymore. No more who-can-care-less games or point scoring. They'd almost died. They were only alive thanks to Ste, thanks to the sacrifice he'd made. Games just didn't seem important anymore. Pride didn't seem important. All Ste wanted in the whole God-damn world was to get back into the car and keep driving. All he wanted was for Brendan to take him away. Never mind Wales - they could be in London. France. Spain. Anywhere but back to Hollyoaks.

"I don't want to go home, Brendan." He confided, eyes distant as he pictured what could be. The life they could lead. Running away didn't seem so hard when they were alone. Their responsibilities seemed a million miles away. "I want to run away so badly. Does that make me a coward?"

"No." Brendan replied, studying him with far too perceptive eyes. "It makes you human."

"Huh. What would... what would you do if I got in the car right now and drove away? If I just kept driving?" Ste wondered, eyes flicking up to meet his.

Brendan snorted. "You can't drive. You don't have a license."

"Just 'cause I don't have a license doesn't mean I can't drive." Ste replied moodily, glaring. "I've been able to drive since I was barely a teenager."

"Whatever you say, Steven." He said, mouth curling up into a jokingly condescending smirk.

"You're changing the subject!" He huffed, not taking the bait. "What would you do, though? Honestly?"

Brendan didn't reply. He just stared, eyes narrowed.

"Would you come with me? Would you follow me, no matter where I was going?" Ste's voice was curious but the urgent tone was hidden just beneath the surface, begging for the truth. He needed to know where they stood.

"Always." Brendan replied and his voice was honest. No lies, no games. Ste smiled.

"Good." Steven told him. There was hope in his smile, and something like gratitude.

"We're going to be okay, you know." It was an empty reassurance and they both knew it. It didn't stop Ste from nodding though, going along with it as though believing it would make it true.

"We could be on a plane to Paris by the end of the day, if you wanted to. Then, we could be half way around the world in a week. Maybe two. Anywhere in the world, Brendan. We could be anywhere in the world."

"What about passports? Clothes?" Brendan asked as though he was actually considering it. Ste was.

"Fine. We go to Hollyoaks first. We'd be really quick, though. Straight in, straight out. No one would know we'd been there. We could be there and gone in no time."

"What about Douglas? Cheryl? They would be worried."

"Leave a note. A letter. Tell them goodbye." Ste was aware how cowardly it sounded, even as a hypothetical synario.

"And just disappear?" Brendan asked, raising an eyebrow.

"And just disappear." He confirmed, smiling slightly. They could do it. Right now, it was within their reach. He was caught up in his own joke and his heart ached with longing. Escape. What an idea.

"Where? France? What about Spain?" Brendan mused, only half joking.

"We could sit on the beach all day." He grinned, "You could drink all those stupid drinks you love. With umbrellas an' everything."

"Mmmm. Sun, sea and strawberry margaritas. Sounds good." Brendan grinned back, images of Steven in speedos flooding his mind. He knew that it was a dream - a stupid, pointless fantasy - but he wanted it. He wanted to run away, drive into the sunset and never look back.

"Sounds perfect. Right now. We could leave right now."

"We could." Brendan agreed but neither moved.

"Spain. I've never been to Spain, before." Ste mumbled and he was itching to get up and go. But there was something holding him back. There was always something holding him back.

"First time for everything." Brendan said and he nodded.

"Yeah." Steven smile slowly slipped away and he looked defeated. "But now's not the time, is it?"

"No." Brendan sighed and stood up, holding out a hand. "We've got to go home."

Steven grabbed his hand and let Brendan help him to his feet. "I was afraid you'd say that."

"You can't run away Steven. Not now." Brendan said and he looked sad. Maybe Ste wasn't the only one that wanted to run.

"One day. One day I'm going leave Hollyoaks and I won't ever look back."

"And I'll be waiting when you do." Brendan said and it made Ste a little less afraid. They weren't together, weren't even close to sorting themselves out, but they weren't alone either. And, for them, that was enough. To know that someone had your back, would always have your back, no matter what. It was nice to know that someone was on your side, especially when they were so used to standing alone.

"Then Spain here we come, eh?"

"Spain here we come." It sounded like a promise.

Ste couldn't sleep. He was tossing and turning in crisp hotel sheets. The room was too silent, too empty for his mind and his thoughts were suffocating him. The blanket lay in a heap at the bottom of the bed and his skin was clammy despite the fact he wore only boxers. Every time he closed his eyes, Ste could see Walker's face. He watched the life drain from angry, vengeful eyes. The colour of his blood running through long, pale fingers. Every time he dared to close his eyes, he could see it. Even when he didn't, even when he stared at the ceiling with wide eyes he could still feel him. Feel Walker's weight on his chest, pinning him down as Ste struggled for his life. The feel of the knife at his throat: cold and sharp and deadly. The gun pressed to his temple, the gun in his hands. The feel of the trigger that held so much destruction, that could cause so much pain. Even when he turned on the light with shaking fingers, afraid of the dark for the first time in his adult life, he could still hear him. Walker's voice ran circles around his mind, playing in a continuous loop.

How does it feel to love a murderer?

How can you love someone like him?

It's all his fault.

You're disgusting. Both of you.

I'm going to kill you.

I won't stop.

You'll pay for everything you've done.

You don't have the guts.

Walker's words taunted him, plagued his thoughts and he couldn't escape. There was nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. Nowhere Walkers voice wouldn't follow him.

You're disgusting.

It was true. He was disgusting. He was a murderer, he'd took someone life. If people found out about it… they would hate him. He imagined Amy's face filled with fear and horror as she cowered from his touch. Leah and Lucas growing up without a father because she didn't trust him anymore. Doug's eyes filling with tears as he realizes who he'd proposed to. What he'd proposed to. The look of disgust as he discovers that he's in love with a monster. He could imagine the rumours that would spread through the village.

"I knew he was trouble. He was always violent, always angry."

"I always thought there was something off about him."

"He never had any self-control."

"After what he did to Amy, it was only a matter of time."

Ste felt sick. Sick to the pit of his stomach. Disgusted with himself and with Walker and even with Brendan. They were monsters, all of them. Different but still the same, deep down. Ste rushed to the en-suite bathroom and fell to his knees as he emptied his stomach's meagre contents into the porcelain bowl. Afterwards he wiped his mouth on some toilet roll as sat on the bathroom floor, knees curled up to his chest. He couldn't go on like that, he couldn't. The guilt, the anger, the fear… it would drive him insane. It already was.

He felt the tears prick his eyes and he was helpless to stop it. The sobs tore through his chest and he whimpered, broken and scared and alone. He cried for his future – a life of guilt and lies and fear. He cried for Doug because he could never know the truth, he could never be the one to save Ste from the dark. He cried for Walker and for his brother – an innocent's death creating a monster. Ste cried for Brendan. He cried because he came so close to losing him. He cried because he hurt and the thought of going through life without Brendan had terrified him so fucking much that he'd killed to prevent it. Killed to save himself from the pain. He cried because loving someone that much wasn't normal and he was afraid of himself. Afraid of what he'd to avoid that pain, that loss. He cried until he couldn't cry anymore, until there were just no tears left inside. As the sobs mellowed into sniffles, he sat there on the cold tile floor, took a deep breath and told himself to be brave. Ste closed his eyes and let the images of Walker haunt him. He didn't shy away in fear, he didn't run to Brendan to make it go away. He had to do this, he had to confront his demons or he'd be running for the rest of his life. He thought about that night. He thought of Walker and his threats and his blood. He thought of the knife against his neck, the gun against his temple and his finger against the trigger as he chose to take a life. He sat there alone, replaying the night over and over in his mind. Again and again until he didn't wince when he heard the gun shots. Until the sound of Walker's voice didn't make him freeze in fear. Until the word murder didn't make him feel sick. He sat there all night as he came to terms with his actions and he didn't get up until he was ready. Until he could finally look in the mirror without feeling disgusted. And when that moment arrived, when he finally pulled himself up from the floor and took a long look at the mirror, taking in the bruises and the cuts and the shadows under his eyes, Ste knew that he would get through this. Ste knew that things would be okay. He would make it okay.

Rachey Ayy xx