One more chapter left after this. Thank you all for your lovely comments on this story, and sorry for the lateness (I blame laptop internet issues and illness).
Chapter Twelve
"What if I can't do it? What if I can't say the words?"
Ste looked at Brendan from across the table in the prison visiting hall and realised he had no way of answering his question. He had never been able to do it himself – repeat the terrible things Seamus Brady had done to his son. So how could he possibly reassure the man it had happened to? All he knew was that this was something he had to get through. Nothing could ever really get any better until Brendan let himself say it.
The retrial was due to start the following day, and Ste hoped this was going to be his last prison visit ever.
"Steven."
He cleared his throat, suddenly remembering the information his stepmother had reluctantly revealed to him the night before. "Cheryl gave Sam the USB file with Seamus'...with his confession on it," he told him gently. "No one is going to twist your words this time."
"If she's already got the evidence, why do I need to tell them?" Brendan replied, his voice low and pleading.
On the table, Ste's hand found the Irishman's and clasped it tightly. "Remember what I said when you first told me what he did to you?"
He was met with a blank expression. He had said a lot of things that day. Right now, only the specifics would do.
"You've got to do this, Brendan. Not for anyone else, but for you."
The older man looked at him, his face a mask of fear and pain. "I'm scared, Steven."
"I know," he said, feeling himself starting to unravel as tears came to his eyes. "I know, but I'll be there. Just...just keep your eyes on me."
Brendan smiled then, a sudden, childlike grin filled with hope. Ste swallowed down the lump in his throat and clung onto this change in emotion. "I told Chez I didn't want ye there," said Brendan. "I wanted to keep ye away from all of this. But I need ye too much. I'm selfish."
Ste shook his head. "Like you could really have stopped me. I was always going to be there, even when I didn't want to speak to you."
"So I heard. She told me ye turned up to see her – got yeself in a right state over wanting to see me. Ye never did tell me what happened."
"What's there to tell?"
"Well according to my sister, ye were angry at me and there was about as much chance of ye forgiving me as there is of England ever winning the world cup."
"Don't pretend you know anything about football odds," Ste smirked, and for a moment he felt that they could have been anywhere having this conversation. Life felt almost normal for a bit.
Brendan raised an eyebrow, which did nothing to focus Ste's mind back to the present. "Is that really what ye want to talk about?"
"Right," he sighed. "Well, I was angry. I still am," he amended. And he was. Just not quite as insanely angry as he was before. Now he just felt...sore. Sore over the time they'd lost because of Brendan's snap decision.
But that was how it had always been with him. Almost everything that went wrong in Brendan's life, and in the lives of those around him, were based on his snap decisions. Some of his choices, though, had shown Ste how much he really meant to the man, in a way that words couldn't always show.
"Remember that day with Walker and the gun?" he blurted out, without taking the time to think how it sounded.
Brendan's face barely flickered. "Which time, Steven? We have more than one incident to choose from."
To anyone else, of course, it would have been a very specific description. But this was them, and Walker had been playing the long game.
Ste looked down at his hands. "I'm talking about the day he killed Riley." The day Ste had dodged a bullet and an innocent, talented bloke had paid the price.
Going by the look on Brendan's face now, no more detail was needed. "What about it?"
"I was talking about you, and it came up. Not your history with that psycho," he quickly added, remembering the point at which he'd had to draw the line when confiding in Danny about Brendan.
"I hadn't let myself think about all the things we went through together. Not properly. And then suddenly, it got inside my head. You putting yourself between me and that gun."
Ste watched as Brendan rubbed the back of his neck. The man was looking anywhere but at him. "That was nothing," he said, only this was no attempt at modesty. "I didn't even need to think about it, I-"
"I know," Ste cut him off. "That's what I'm saying, Brendan. You were...you were actually willing to die for me. All this time I've been so obsessed with you leaving me, but you weren't really choosing Cheryl over me, were you? It was never about that."
Brendan looked at him, eyes full of sadness and regret. "Ye thought ye were bottom of my list. Ye really thought that."
"I didn't know what to think. I just remember screaming at the police not to take you away, and begging you to tell the truth. I could hear you saying your feelings would never change but it didn't make sense to me, not when you wouldn't fight for us anymore."
"Ye didn't think I'd stopped loving ye, did ye?" Brendan begged him suddenly, his voice sounding even more broken than it had when talking about the trial. "Steven, please, tell me you didn't. I meant what I said; nothing will ever make me stop loving ye."
For a long time, they just looked at each other.
Then, closing his eyes, Ste pictured countless memories as they flooded through his mind. Brendan telling him he loved him for the first time and meaning every word, even though he hadn't yet managed to change his ways. And then again, on that bridge in Dublin when he'd said he simply couldn't live his life without him. In the days after Brendan's arrest he had scoffed at the words, because living without him was the choice the man had voluntarily made at the time.
But had Brendan really been living, during all this time without him? Ste certainly didn't feel like he had been.
He let himself remember all the things Brendan had said to him over the years; particularly in the months they were properly together.
"Ye changed everything, Steven."
"There is nothing ye can do that will make me stop loving ye. Nothing."
"Ye make me believe that the world can be good again."
Ste remembered the confusion he'd felt over that last statement. Brendan had never been one for soppy declarations, and although he had been drinking the night he'd shouted this to him from outside the deli, it still sounded over the top and out of character. It wasn't until soon after, when Brendan had finally told him what his father had done to him as a child, that the words came back to him, holding a new meaning and leaving him a little breathless.
Opening his eyes, he blinked back a fresh wave of tears. "No," he said finally, fixing the man in front of him with an unwavering gaze. "I didn't really think that. I always knew you loved me."
To his surprise, the Irishman closed his own eyes for a brief few moments, and when he opened them again, Ste half expected him to say something heartfelt.
"So when were ye going to tell me about this new family of yours?"
Seeing that familiar overprotective look on Brendan's face, he rolled his eyes. Some things would never change.
He had been home for half an hour when he heard the land-line ringing. Seconds later, Sam was in his room, holding out the phone for him. He took it, wondering who it could be that wouldn't have tried his mobile first. Then, as he spoke questioningly down the line, he realised that he hadn't turned his phone back on after visiting the prison.
"Daddy?" came the small voice of Leah, making him smile. "Is Brendan coming back?"
Ste didn't know what to say to that.
"Why are you asking about Brendan, Leah? What have you heard?"
"The lady on the TV said his name," replied the seven year old in her usual matter-of-fact manner. "What's a retrial, Daddy?"
"Well listen, sweetheart-"
Amy's voice in the background stopped him from finishing that thought – not that he'd even known how to end it. "Leah! What are you doing?"
"I'm just talking to Daddy."
There was a short whispered conversation and then Amy was on the line herself. "Ste?"
"Hi," he said weakly.
"What's going on? What have you told her?"
"I haven't said anything!" he said a little too loudly. "She was asking me about Brendan. She heard about him on the news."
There was a tense silence on the other end of the line. Amy was probably kicking herself for not finding a way to avoid their very bright and quick-witted daughter seeing the news about Brendan. She had been horrified when she'd seen it herself, calling Ste to express how ridiculous she thought it was that the man actually had a chance of getting out of prison.
Even the knowledge that Cheryl was the one who had killed Seamus didn't change her viewpoint. Ste had been more than tempted to tell Amy the truth about the 'victim', but he wasn't convinced that she would believe it until it all became public knowledge. Something that, now, he didn't have to wait very long for.
"So you're still going to court tomorrow, then?" she asked after recovering herself.
"Yes. Please don't try and talk me out of it."
"Makes no difference to me, Ste, as long as Leah and Lucas aren't brought into this...thing between the two of you. This thing that never seems to be able to stop."
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. There was no sense in getting wound up over words he had heard a million times before from the mother of his kids.
"Brendan loved them, Amy. And they loved him, too. Especially Leah. I think I should have a talk with her."
Amy's voice dropped to a harsh whisper. "No! I'll do that."
"What, so you can tell her to forget all about him, or that it's the wrong Brendan that's been on the news? Just...just wait until tomorrow, okay?"
"Why? What could tomorrow possibly do to change my opinion?"
Ste sighed, unable to give her a straight answer. "Please, Ames. Just do this for me?"
She agreed, but only because she didn't expect one day to make the slightest bit of difference. When they hung up, he didn't even move to put the phone back; just dropped it onto the bed, lay down flat and closed his eyes against the daylight, hoping he could waste away the hours without having to think.
The day after her last conversation with Ste, Amy Barnes had just given the kids their tea and was finally sitting down after a long day at work. While Leah and Lucas sat at the table to eat, she turned on the TV, not expecting the headline that greeted her as the news channel appeared.
Letting out a gasp she couldn't hold in, she clamped a hand to her mouth and took a quick glance at the table to see if her son and daughter had noticed. Luckily, they were too engrossed in their chatter and with what they were eating.
She read the words of the headline several times over, then flicked the other news channels. Similar 'Breaking News' descriptions were displayed on every single one of them. Day one of Brendan Brady's retrial was dominating the national news.
With a jolt, Amy realised what Ste had meant when he had asked her to wait until today. He had known what was about to come out. She turned the television off and picked up her phone to call him. She could hear him on the other end of the line, signalling that he had pressed 'answer', but he didn't speak.
"Ste?" she said softly, unsure how on earth the conversation was going to progress from there. What could she say?
"Ames," he croaked out, then waited. But she couldn't find the words, and he seemed to guess why. "You've seen it then."
"Just now," she replied. "Are you...I mean, how are..." she trailed off halfway through what she knew was a ridiculous question. It was the first time in years that she found herself stuck for something to say when it came to Steven Hay.
"Who are you talking to, Mummy?"
Leah's voice startled her, and Amy turned around to see her eldest looking at her curiously. But now wasn't the time to let her speak to her dad.
"It's just daddy, Leah. He's not feeling very well at the moment though. You can speak to him later, okay?"
The little girl frowned, probably worrying about her father already, but she nodded and went back to chatting with her brother.
"Can I call you back later?" Ste asked tonelessly.
"Yeah. Yes, do that," she agreed, and they ended the call without another word.
Her mind was already wandering back into the past, and now it was stuck on one memory in particular. A few years back, when Ste had still been dating Rae and sleeping with Brendan in secret, Amy had gone to visit the Irishman. Having just found out Rae was pregnant with Ste's baby, she had been determined to warn Brendan off carrying on with him behind the poor girl's back.
And her efforts had worked, for a time. It was during their brief 'chat' that Amy had discovered the man wasn't quite as easy to work out as she had first thought. He had claimed not to know what love is, yet had seemed genuine in his efforts to keep Ste from harm.
And all the while there had been something in his eyes; a darkness that she had already encountered, but also a deep sense of self-loathing. The sight of him that day had caused her to comment on it.
"You really hate yourself, don't you? I can't imagine what you see when you look into a mirror. I feel sorry for you."
She had meant the words at the time, but that had been the extent of her feelings towards him and it had never occurred to her that there might be something bigger lurking beneath his self-hatred.
Just as she was thinking this over, her boyfriend arrived home and, seeing the look on her face, went to sit down beside her.
"You alright?" Simon asked, concerned.
Amy turned to face him, attempting some form of a reassuring smile. "Yeah. Sorry," she told him, even though it wasn't quite true. She took a long breath, released it and kept her voice quiet as she spoke. "It's just...I've just found out something about someone. It's big, and it's making me question every conversation I've ever had with him."
Sam nodded in thanks at the prison guard as he let her into Brendan's cell, and made her way over to where the man was sitting. His head was bowed, his body closed in on itself. He didn't move or even acknowledge her presence.
"I know, I know," she announced. "You've probably had more than enough for one day. But I'm not actually here on duty, despite appearances." She put away her police badge and clasped her hands together. "I just came to tell you something."
There was a flicker in Brendan's eyes, and finally he raised his head to look at her.
"I've seen a lot in this job over the years, Brendan. Nothing like what I saw today, though."
He laughed humourlessly at her. "And what's that, Samantha? A car crash that was just waiting to happen?"
"No," Sam replied, keeping her tone easy and casual. "A rape victim choosing not to be a victim anymore."
She had seen him flinch at the word before she had even finished the sentence, but unlike anybody else it didn't deter her. After a minute to let that thought settle in his mind, she decided to bring up the second reason for her visit. "Cheryl mentioned that one of your sons was there today, with your ex wife."
Brendan was silent for a while, and she almost gave up on the subject in favour of a new one. Until she heard his voice again, just about audible in the cell.
"Declan. My eldest."
"Did you know they were coming?"
"Eileen hates my guts, and I've let the boys down so many times I'll be surprised if they still call me dad. What do ye think?"
"They had to find out eventually," she told him, though his gaze said otherwise. "Alright, maybe they didn't. But think of it this way, imagine your kids are grown men and you're no closer to them than you are now. Then imagine them finding out about your father and wondering why you'd left all that time between his death and the truth coming out. All that time wasted when really, you could start building something with them now."
He smirked, then cleared his face and offered her a half-smile, unsure of who he was most trying to convince. DI Lacey or himself.
Smiling back at him, Sam turned away to leave, waving her hand at the guard to let him know. "Think about it," she called over her shoulder.
As the prison guard held the door open for her he beckoned Brendan over. "Phone call for you, Brady."
When he reached the phone it was Steven's voice that answered, just as he knew it would be. "You were amazing today. So you can stop beating yourself up over it right now."
The sound that escaped Brendan's lips was somewhere between a laugh and a sob. For the first time, all he felt was relief. "How did ye-"
"Because I know you, Brendan Brady. I know you."
