20.

Brendan's flat was quiet. Anne had put the television on for a while, but had since turned it off, declaring the picture was making her feel queasy all over again. Brendan spent the afternoon at her beck and call, making tea and fetching ice cream. He had spent most of the morning at the club, clearing up the opening night's rubbish, and was now content to lie on his couch with Anne for the rest of the afternoon. Without the "Mitzeee" accessories she looked younger, more vulnerable, her makeup free face and oversized hoodie made her seem smaller somehow. She snuggled into Brendan's side and must have been dozing, because she hadn't made any demands for a while. Her flight back to the States was in two days, and Brendan was not prepared for her absence. The idea of her going was enough to make him feel a little hollow, he almost wished he could go with her.

Brendan picked up his phone from the arm of the couch and scrolled through his messages. Nothing from Cheryl, but he hoped that was because she was still sleeping off the night before. Joel had also gone quiet. Nothing from Ste. He opened their chat, noting that Ste hadn't been online since the day before. Brendan began to type a message, and then realised he had no idea what he wanted to say. I'm sorry? Brendan wasn't sure he was, not really. I love you? Lovesick puppy wasn't a good look on him, and besides, he couldn't have been clearer about his feelings. Don't hate me? This was what he typed on to the screen, but he hesitated to send it. Was it too needy, too desperate? Brendan didn't want Ste to be angry with him, couldn't cope with the idea of animosity between them, not after weeks of fragile 'friendship'. Which had really been weeks of tormenting each other, of testing the boundaries to see how far they could push each other.

After his regrettable drunken episode a couple of weeks earlier, Brendan had visited the Olive Press for coffee as Ste had gently suggested. He had been a little sheepish, but decided it was best to rip off the plaster of their next encounter as swiftly as was possible. He knew there were shadows under his eyes, and he was clad in jeans and a zipped up hoodie, the most casual clothes he owned, but Brendan hoped Ste wouldn't care. Sure enough, when he asked for Steven, the girl at the counter disappeared and reappeared with him in tow almost instantly. Ste's grin was so wide it looked as though it might crack his face.

"Well you look rough," he pronounced, looking like he was glad to see Brendan suffering.

"Really know how to boost a fella's ego Steven," Brendan muttered, leaning his weight on the counter because standing up was taking far too much effort. Ste laughed his ungainly honking laugh and turned to operate the coffee machine.

"Here, what got you in that state then?"

"It's called whiskey Steven, I believe you're acquainted."

"If you're going to be a smart arse you're not getting this coffee."

Brendan smirked, watching Ste grinding coffee beans and frothing milk expertly. He was almost tempted into telling the truth; that he had lost his mind at the thought of Ste and his boyfriend having a merry old time with his sister, excluding him and making Ben an even more tangible figure in his image of Ste's life.

"Where's Ben this morning?" Brendan asked instead. Ste twisted his head round to give him a strange look.

"He's at work, why?"

"Last night looked cosy."

Brendan hadn't meant the words to sound quite as bitter as they had done.

"Brendan..."

"I'm just sorry that I ruined it."

Ste handed Brendan his coffee and stared into his eyes sympathetically.

"You didn't ruin anything," Ste said softly. Brendan wondered if Ste thought he had purposely tried to sabotage the evening. He hadn't set out with that intention, hadn't set out with any intention really, but hearing that his behaviour had been dismissed as harmless at best, insignificant at worst, left him feeling hollow. Ste came around from behind the counter then, and grabbing Brendan's free hand, led him to a table.

"Sit down here, and I'll do you some breakfast, Italian style."

Brendan nodded, gave Ste's hand a squeeze, and sat down. This need for body contact was not helping Brendan focus on the just friends agenda. Neither was the special treatment. Over the weeks of the renovation, there were countless coffees, numerous breakfasts, and pizzas delivered to the club when Brendan was stuck at the club late. Ste had been everywhere, and Brendan would have been a liar if he'd said that he minded.

And now, so soon, it had come to this. Please don't hate me. Anne stirred, stretching and rubbing her eyes. Brendan abandoned his phone, leaving the message unsent.

"How long have I been asleep?" Anne asked, causing Brendan to squint down at his watch.

"Maybe an hour?"

"And you've let me use you as a pillow the whole time? Such a gent."

"It's fine. I needed some time to think."

"That sounds dangerous. Dare I ask what about?"

Anne was clearly feeling better if she was ready for gossip. Brendan got up from the couch and retrieved a couple of beers from the fridge. Anne pulled her face, but he forced the bottle into her hand anyway.

"It'll help Anne, trust me."

Anne took a delicate sip from the bottle as a test, and once she was satisfied that her stomach was no longer about to rebel, she took a proper swig.

"So, you going to tell me what happened last night then?"

"Not sure what there is to tell," Brendan said, lying back on to the couch and pressing his fingers into his eyes.

"Well... are you back together?" Anne asked, making Brendan huff out a laugh.

"What gave it away Anne, the speed at which Steven fled the scene?" he retorted sarcastically, and Anne rolled her eyes.

"More likely it was your current sunny demeanour."

Brendan glanced at his ominously silent phone.

"Thought about sending him a message..."

"Saying what?"

"Hadn't figured that part out yet."

"Wow, what happened to treat them mean and keep them keen Brady eh?" Anne asked, tucking her feet underneath her on the couch.

"He spent ten years in prison. I've not exactly got all the time in the world to waste."

Anne considered his words for a moment.

"That might be the problem you know."

"What's that?"

"Well you have been away. There's no getting away from that. Ste had moved on."

"Yeah, I'm well aware of that, but you and my genius sister told me to risk it anyway. Last time I listen to you."

"What I mean is, things didn't change for you, but they did for Ste."

Brendan frowned, exasperated with Anne and her lack of clarity.

"You said that real feelings don't change. You know I'm no good at this Anne. I'm relying on you here."

"Feelings don't change, it's circumstances that do. Who instigated things last night?"

Brendan thought back to the peculiar episode in his office the night before, Ste standing topless in the middle of the room. Had that been a challenge? Had he been daring Brendan to act, to reach out and touch him? The fear in Ste's eyes when he had been in the bathroom with Brendan. The way that fear had melted so rapidly into heat and desire just with one look. The protection afforded by the locked door.

"Steven. I think... it was Steven."

Anne looked inexplicably triumphant.

"Like I said, circumstances are the barrier, because it clearly isn't the feelings. Be patient, give him time to get everything sorted. He's not twenty one anymore, he can't just drop everything to be with you."

"Why not?"

"Brendan, you're being characteristically unreasonable."

Brendan grumbled inarticulately, draining his beer bottle in lieu of replying properly. Anne patted his knee sympathetically.

"Patience is a virtue Brendan."

"So I've been told," he muttered, and picked up his phone again. Deleting his previous effort, he wrote the words 'hope you're okay' instead. After a moment's though, he added 'Steven'. Brendan pressed send before he had time to question himself, letting out a breath as he did so. He suspected his patience was about to be stretched to breaking point.

During the day, when the club was closed, Brendan liked to use the lull in activity to get the paperwork done. Often he was there alone, as there was little need for the extra staff apart from over the weekend. This habit afforded Brendan some much needed peace in his world, which lately seemed to be terribly loud. Nolans was proving popular, and even weekdays had been busy, which meant that Brendan wasn't getting back to his flat until three or four most nights. Although Joel and Anne had returned to their respective lives hundreds and thousands of miles away, Cheryl remained resolutely in Chester, and was often to be found in Nolans with Brendan. She had made the decision to stay until after the new year, so Nate had rented a barn conversion he had found just outside of Hollyoaks for them both, rather than living out of a hotel.

Brendan knew without having to have it spelled out that Cheryl was concerned about leaving him alone over the holidays, a time she was insistent was all about family. He tried, without success, to convince his sister that he would be spending most of December working, and as such did not require looking after. The truth was that after so many Christmases behind bars Brendan could barely remember what a normal celebration looked like. Besides, the Christmas before his imprisonment had been largely spent in the company of Steven and the children, which had been a wonderful healing balm to the sting of having Seamus in his house, particularly with Cheryl so oblivious to his discomfort and the reason for his distance. Perhaps this was the catalyst for Cheryl's determination to have a 'family' event, although being the third wheel to Cheryl and Nate's happiness was hardly his idea of a joyful festive season.

Loneliness was creeping in, a flat and empty feeling that Brendan was grappling with unsuccessfully. It had been three weeks with nothing from Ste, and Brendan was feeling the absence keenly, as though he was in withdrawal from a drug he had been dependent on, which in many ways was an accurate description. Brendan had, despite all of the red flags, allowed himself to become accustomed to Ste's presence in his life again, looked forward to their tentative banter, and had been thrilled at every unannounced appearance. In the back of his mind, Brendan had known that the more time they spent together, the harder it would be for Ste to deny the evident attraction that was there between them, still. When the resistance had broken down that night at the club, Brendan had allowed himself to hope that that would be it, that finally Ste would be with him. Of course, Anne had reminded him that it was unlikely to prove that straightforward, and so Brendan had waited, with uncharacteristic patience.

He stayed away from the Olive Press, despite its magnetic pull. The only glimpse Brendan had of Ste over the course of those three weeks was one morning, during his daily run. He had left the flat a little later than normal. After a disrupted, nightmare filled sleep, Brendan had needed the extra time in bed, but noticed the difference in time almost as soon as he had hit the streets. There were more people than usual milling about in the village, where Brendan normally found the place deserted. As Brendan's trainer clad feet pounded against the pavement, he caught a glimpse of Ste coming down the Oakdale Drive steps wearing his chef's whites, a preoccupied look marring his flawless features. If he had noticed Brendan in turn he certainly didn't let on, and Brendan, having slowed his pace at the sight of him, sped up once more, practically fleeing the village.

So Brendan waited, and used the paperwork at the club to keep him occupied. He balanced takings with outgoings and edited staff rotas to distract his mind from his aching heart. Whilst studying the plans for the Christmas Eve event at his desk, Brendan heard a sound like a scratching of nails against a polished surface, which seemed to be coming from within the club. He frowned. No one else was due in for another two hours. Brendan left his desk silently and headed for the door. Again the sound jarred through him, causing him to wince in pain.

"Hello?" Brendan called, emanating his usual confidence and calm but inwardly readying himself for a possible confrontation. Stepping into the club, he looked around carefully. That noise again, further away now, like thunder retreating into the distance. A shadow moved in the darkness near the staircase.

"Alright Brady?"

Brendan stood stock still, wondering if his mind was playing tricks on him. But sure enough, out of the shadows, stepping into the light, was the figure of Warren Fox. He held up his hands as though he were entering a boxing ring, smug smile on his hated face. Brendan sneered instinctively.

"Pleased to see me?"

"Surprised. You know, what with you being dead and all."

Warren let out a laugh at that, and Brendan felt a shiver run down the length of his body.

"Oh yeah, that. You'd think people would have the brains to realise, faking that stuff is so easy once you know how."

Brendan shook his head, trying to clear it, to make sense of the horror unfolding before him.

"No. It's not possible. Joel identified the body, there was a funeral -"

"You know what they say Brady. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

Brendan went to speak, then stopped himself. How could this be possible? Cheryl had expressed reservations, but they had quickly been dismissed. Had she been right all along?

"You mean -"

"That Joel's been with me the whole time? What do you think?"

Brendan made his way to the bar in a daze, unsure of what to think. He poured a drink sloppily, and as an afterthought, poured a second one, pushing it across the bar towards Warren, who gave no sign of moving from his spot near the stairs. The grin on Warren's face was boiling Brendan's blood, and he held the glass in his hand in a vice like grip to try and cling on to control.

"You didn't really believe it was that easy did you? That Joel was happy to sign this place over to you, just like that?" Warren asked, stepping slowly forwards, hands stuffed in jeans pockets in a casual yet protective stance. Brendan thought back to his time with Joel in those first few days. He had seemed genuine, seemed to be affected by the will reading and the prospect of having to deal with the aftermath of Warren's chaos. But of course, Brendan had been dealing with his own issues, having only just reentered the outside world. He had been all too eager to grasp the opportunity that Joel held out for him, a second chance, just like that, with so little effort. Brendan had wanted the club too desperately to examine Joel's motives too closely. How could he have let himself be blindsided in this way?

"Listen Foxy, whatever your intentions, I'm fairly certain the authorities won't take such a lenient view of you orchestrating a meeting with your maker for the second time. I can't imagine how many laws that must be breaking. All it'd take is one phone call, and the police would be round here like a shot."

"Oh, don't worry, I'm not sticking around. I just wanted to warn you in person, not to get too comfortable. No matter what that contract may say, this club still belongs to me."

With that, Warren turned his back on the bar, leaving the proffered drink untouched.

"Foxy wait -"

"I'll be in touch. See you around, Brady," Warren called as he skipped down the stairs. Brendan hesitated only for a moment, before running down the stairs in pursuit, but by the time he reached the ground floor there was no sign of Warren Fox anywhere. Brendan flicked all of the lights on at the wall, screwing his eyes up at the sudden brightness, but the illumination only served to prove the club was empty. It was then that Brendan noticed the door to the club was ajar, a sliver of natural light just visible. Growling under his breath, Brendan flung open the door, only to career into a shocked looking Ste.

"Fucking hell Bren, watch it, I nearly went flying! Brendan?"

Brendan was still frantically scouring either end of the street for signs of Warren Fox, heart singing in his ears. He grasped Ste's shoulders roughly, causing him to look alarmed.

"Did you see anyone leave just now Steven?"

Ste glanced in the direction of Brendan's frantic eyes.

"What? No. Brendan -"

"Are you sure? Think carefully Steven."

"Positive. You going to tell me what's going on?"

Brendan released his grip on Ste's shoulders and nodded absently to himself. Warren wouldn't have just charged out of Nolans into broad daylight where anyone could see him. He must have had an accomplice, someone waiting for him in a car perhaps...

He started as he felt a hand on his cheek. Ste was staring at him, concern evident on his face. Brendan took a deep breath, and resolved to put Warren's appearance temporarily to the back of his mind, because here Ste was, finally back in front of him. Warmth spread through him and he placed his own hand on top of Ste's gently.

"Long time no see Steven," Brendan murmured, moving his face in the cradle of their hands, rubbing his stubble over Ste's palm and pressing a soft kiss into it. Ste pulled his hand away hastily, breaking the spell of the moment.

"I came to give you something. Could I... can I come in for a bit?"

Brendan nodded, holding the door open and gesturing into the club. He watched Ste stand in the middle of the room awkwardly and almost felt sorry for him. Brendan turned down the lights a little to a more ambient level, and headed towards the bar.

"Want a drink?"

"No, ta. I'm working aren't I."

Brendan shrugged and changed direction, instead leaning against the bar facing Ste, who looked guilty and uncomfortable, wearing a forest green hoodie over his uniform. Brendan was determined not to be the one to break the silence, despite his yearning to hear what Ste had to say. As it always did when it was just the two of them, electricity crackled through the room, tension inevitably rising. Ste shifted his weight between his feet, further betraying his agitation.

"I don't know what to say to you."

Brendan rolled his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly.

"Well, I'm glad you popped in to share that with me Steven," Brendan said, sarcasm heavy in his tone. He wished Ste didn't look so distressed, because all he wanted to do was reach out and touch him, reassure him. He was busy twisting the sleeve cuffs of his hoodies, the gesture making him seem younger than his years. Brendan was forcibly reminded of Ste in the first few weeks of their acquaintance, when he was permanently clothed in his Chez Chez uniform and had been so uncertain of Brendan's motives.

"Look, I'm sorry, alright? I didn't mean to leave it this long -"

"It's been over three weeks Steven," Brendan interrupted loudly, irritation at the lost time surfacing. Ste's eyes flashed at his tone, passion flaring behind them. Good, Brendan thought.

"I just couldn't. I were angry, right, and -"

"You said you weren't angry. You told Chez, you told me that you weren't angry with me -"

"I know! God, I don't want to be!" Ste was yelling now, tears running freely down his face. Brendan couldn't stand the distance any longer and crossed the floor towards Ste, holding his distressed face in his hands, wiping away the tears streaming down his cheeks as best he could. Ste let out a noise that was halfway between an agonised shout and a sob, and Brendan felt the ever present dagger of guilt tear afresh at his insides. He pulled Ste into his arms, cradling him tenderly, Ste's hands grasping the back of Brendan's shirt for dear life.

"I tried really hard to get back to normal, but I couldn't remember what normal looked like... you're everywhere, in everything I do..."

Ste trailed off, and Brendan pressed a kiss into his hair, breathing him in. He smelt of freshly baked bread, and of lemons, and of hope. Ste shifted so that his face was tilted towards Brendans, his shining eyes meeting with Brendan's intent gaze. Brendan touched his lips to Ste's gently, a reassuring gesture rather than a passionate one. Ste returned the pressure, opening his mouth and silently inviting Brendan to do the same. Their tongues massaged together slowly, intimately, Brendan tasting salt from Ste's tears. Pinpricks of warmth and desire made their way through Brendan's body, and he knew there was nowhere that he'd rather be, that he could stay in that embrace forever and be content. After what seemed simultaneously like years and no time at all, Ste moved away, placing a hand on his lips almost wonderingly. Brendan sighed, keeping his head down. The last thing he wanted was to see anything resembling horror or regret on Ste's face. To his surprise, two hands touched his face and forced him to look up into beautiful, intent blue eyes.

"I can't think straight when I'm with you," Ste said, a sad smile on his face, eyes still shining, but no longer with tears. Brendan didn't know what to say to that. For him, it was the opposite way round; only with Ste's presence did anything make any sense. He cleared his throat, darted his eyes away from Ste's anxiously.

"Steven, I -"

"No Brendan, wait. I need you to answer me something, okay? And be honest. What exactly do you want from me?"

It was impossible not to look at Ste then, such was the desperation to convey sincerity. There was only one possible answer.

"Everything, Steven. Everything."

Ste let out a long shuddering breath and released his hold on Brendan's face once more.

"I thought I'd made myself clear," Brendan said carefully, frightened of saying the wrong thing. Ste nodded distractedly, taking a seat at the bar and rubbing his face with his hands.

"You had. I just needed to hear it."

There was a long silence. Nerves rattled in Brendan's gut, mouth turning dry. He swallowed, attempting to push some words out into the atmosphere.

"So what now? Hmmm?"

"I... I'm sorry Brendan. I know what you want me to say, what you need to hear, but... I need more time. I can't just walk out on my life, I need... I need you to give me more time."

Don't be 'characteristically unreasonable', Brendan warned himself silently.

"Okay Steven. Much as I don't like it, if you need time, you've got it. But..."

"Yeah?" Ste prompted.

"Just don't go disappearing on me again. These past few weeks... well... they weren't good."

Patience is for the virtuous, and Brendan was certainly never virtuous. The weeks without Ste had been filled with sickening anxiety and frequent visits from Walker. Brendan's level of self loathing was at a high, and he needed Ste to steady him, to make the bad days worth living through. Ste was studying Brendan; the scrutiny was welcome from no one but him.

"I won't. Disappear I mean. I didn't enjoy it, me. Being away from you."

"Is that so?" Brendan asked, the corners of his mouth quirking upwards a little as he sat on the bar stool next to Ste. The thought that Ste had missed him too was gratifying. It almost made the ordeal worth it. Almost.

"Here, don't let it go to your head," Ste returned, a grin breaking onto his face in turn, his white teeth visible. Brendan resisted the urge to kiss the smile, which was so welcome after their most recent interactions had been filled with tears. After a moment Ste seemed to remember something, and patted his hoodie pockets.

"I actually came here to give you something, didn't I."

"I can think of a few things that'd be well received," Brendan said with a suggestive raising of his eyebrows. Ste glared at him playfully.

"Unlucky Brendan. Here you go."

Ste held out his hand, motioning for Brendan to put his out in turn. What dropped into his hand was surprising. For a second Brendan couldn't breathe. He stroked the edges of the cross disbelievingly.

"You still have this?"

Ste shrugged as though it wasn't a big deal.

"Found it when I moved house didn't I. I was going to send it to you, you know, in prison, but I didn't think you'd open that either, so..."

Brendan stared at the chain, reminding himself of the weight and feel of it.

"Didn't think I'd see this again. Thought Douglas must have taken it, you never mentioned it when we were -"

"Yeah, Doug did have it at first. But he remembered he had it, after you went away, and he gave it me."

Brendan noticed that a flash of what looked like guilt crossed Ste's features, and he studiously looked away when mentioning Doug. Brendan's eyes narrowed, sensing there was more to this story than Ste was admitting to. Before he could question further though, Ste held out something else: a scrap of till roll with an address on it.

"So this is the other thing. Don't get mad right..."

"Why did anyone ever start a sentence with the words 'don't get mad', when the resulting conversation will almost certainly have that effect, hmmm?"

"Chez might've mentioned that you've been a bit... down."

Brendan sighed and stood up, deciding he was ready for another drink even if Ste didn't want one. He grabbed a beer from the nearest fridge and began searching for a bottle opener. Ste slid one across the bar towards him silently.

"Cheryl said..."

"Yeah, but look Brendan, she's not going round telling everyone or anything. Just me."

"I'm fine Steven."

Brendan didn't believe that himself, knew there was something wrong with him, knew it was on a knife edge, so close to spinning out of control, but Steven didn't need to know that. He didn't look convinced anyway, his eyes were raised in a cynical expression.

"So what was that about at the door before? Who were you looking for eh?"

Forcibly reminded of the appearance of Warren Fox, Brendan took a long drink from the bottle he was holding, and leant over the bar, his face close to Ste's.

"Just kids playing knock and run Steven. No big deal."

"Whatever Brendan," Ste said, rolling his eyes in an exaggerated fashion to show he wasn't buying any of it, "anyway, I did some research. Found the details of your priest friend."

Brendan pulled the scrap of paper towards him, noticing that the first line of the address was the name of a church.

"Father Des?" Brendan asked. He wouldn't necessarily refer to the man as "his" priest, but he supposed Ste must have remembered Brendan's unconventional therapy of the time before; when he had been dealing with Lynsey, and Doug, and Walker.

"Yeah. He's moved to, like, a different area or something."

Brendan smiled fondly.

"Parish. Priests work in parishes."

"He's moved to a different parish then. It's the other side of Chester, but still near enough. I thought - well, I thought you could go see him. He could help you, you know, like he did before."

Brendan was aware that he was supposed to be giving Ste time, but in that moment he didn't care. He leaned further over the bar, and putting two fingers on Ste's face to tilt it, kissed him deeply, trying to pour as much love and gratitude into the gesture as he could. When they broke apart, Ste was blushing beautifully.

"What was that for?"

"To say thank you Steven. How did you find this? Can't have been easy."

Ste grinned at Brendan, laughter in his eyes.

"You're such a throwback sometimes. Anything's possible with the internet Bren."

Brendan looked down at the address again. It was written in a neat, precise hand.

"This isn't your writing."

"No. Asked our Leah to look it up didn't I. Kids are something else with technology."

The mention of Leah brought a sad smile to Brendan's face.

"She with you at the minute?"

"Yeah. It's half term so I've got them both. It's well manic."

Brendan and Ste had talked about the children at length over the weeks of their reacquaintance, Ste showing his enthusiasm for family life had never diminished. In some ways Brendan was eager to see Leah and Lucas, as he had grown to love them in their brief time together as a family, but the idea of them not recognising him made him hesitant to suggest it. It was clear to Brendan, without it having to be spelled out, that the children's bond with Ben was one of the reasons Ste was finding it so tough to make the break.

"Is he there?" Brendan asked quietly, coming out from behind the bar and facing Ste, afraid of the answer but unable to refrain from asking the question. Sure enough, Ste's face clouded over with a frown, and Brendan wished he could stuff the words back into his mouth, choke himself with them rather than causing further discord between them.

"Course he is. Brendan -"

"It's fine. Forget I asked."

Brendan's brain was overloaded, he couldn't concentrate on anything with the intensity required. This was his reward for anticipating a quiet day of paperwork - the reappearance of Warren and a bucket load of emotional baggage from Steven.

At that moment the upstairs balcony door slammed, and his sister called, "anyone home?" in a singsong voice.

"Down here Chez," Brendan shouted back tiredly; yet another spanner in the works of his peace and quiet. Cheryl scampered down the stairs, wearing a smile and an enormous leopard print fur coat. When she caught sight of Ste her smile stretched wider, if that was possible.

"Hiya Ste love. This is a nice surprise."

Brendan tried and failed not to roll his eyes and retreated behind the bar once more, retrieving a bottle of red wine from the display and pouring two healthy glasses of the ruby liquid. He pushed the drinks towards Cheryl and Ste, who both grabbed them without a pause in conversation. So much for not drinking Steven, Brendan thought wryly.

"Hey Chez, how's things?"

"Oh, grand love. Did Bren tell you I'm here until January now? Nate's found us this beautiful place to stay for Christmas, I'm so excited. Proper family Christmas. What are you doing this year? Feels like we haven't seen you in ages."

Ste studiously avoided Brendan's gaze, instead offering Cheryl a bright smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"I know, been dead busy, me. With the holidays coming up and that. It's Amy's turn to have the kids, so I'll be working most of it."

Cheryl's face softened in sympathy, and she shot an odd pained glance in Brendan's direction.

"You must miss them babe, when they're with Amy I mean."

Brendan understood Cheryl's look then: she was thinking of his boys, and the fact that they had chosen to sever all ties with the Brady family. He was forcibly reminded of the day Cheryl had visited him to impart the news that Padraig had opted to change his surname to the one Eileen and Michael shared; he would be a Brady no longer. It had been an odd piece of news to receive; painful certainly, but in truth Brendan supposed he could hardly blame the lad. Michael had been a father in all of the ways that Brendan hadn't been, and the unsavoury associations of a father in prison were not something a teenage boy should ever have been shackled with. To Paddy, Brendan was a stranger, an unreliable and dangerous spectre that occasionally landed in his life to reek havoc before disappearing again. He hated to admit it, but Brendan knew it would have hurt more if it had been Declan who had disowned the name of Brady, though nothing had been mentioned on that front. He too had refused to have anything to do with Cheryl since Brendan's conviction, a fact that caused his sister evident pain. Brendan felt envious of Ste at that moment; the affection and love that radiated from his features could only come from having a secure, deep bond with his children that Brendan, through his own doing, would never have the opportunity to experience.

"Nah, it's fine, I'll see them a bit anyway, lucky me and Ames are mates aren't I. They're with me this week anyway, with half term and that."

"That's nice, got anything exciting planned?"

"Taking them the fireworks tomorrow night. Lucas loves it, has done since he were little."

Cheryl clapped her hands and squealed.

"Oh me too, who doesn't love a sparkler eh? Perhaps my big brother will take me..."

Brendan grunted from the corner of the bar, where he had been stood in the shadows quietly sipping a whiskey.

"What, with you and Nate, love's young dream? Real tempting sis."

"Actually Bren, Nate's catching a flight tonight, needs to sort some stuff at the estate for while we're away, so it'll just be you and me."

"Oh, well in that case I can hardly wait," Brendan said, with precisely no excitement in his voice whatsoever. Ste smirked and stood up, pulling down the bottom of his hoodie as he did so.

"Well, might see you there then, if you manage to persuade mister life and soul over there."

"Every day with me is full of fireworks Steven, you know that," Brendan caught Ste's eye and watched a bloom of crimson spread across his cheeks. Cheryl, missing the double meaning implied in Brendan's words, laughed loudly.

"That's true enough. See you tomorrow babe."

Once Ste had left, Brendan caught a flash of silver mirrored in his glass. He retrieved the cross from the counter and clasped it around his neck. Despite the many years that had passed, its weight still felt familiar and somehow reassuring.

"What's that you've got?" Cheryl asked, holding her wine glass to her lips. Brendan gave a small shrug as he tucked the chain into his shirt out of sight, the cool metal kissing his skin.

"My cross. Steven found it. He thought I'd like it back."

"How come Ste had it?"

Brendan sighed and rubbed his eyes.

"Long story."

Cheryl was considering him thoughtfully, with an intensity that made Brendan uncomfortable.

"Has he had that since before you went away?"

Brendan turned away from his sister, rearranging bottles that did not require rearranging.

"Guess so."

"And he kept it all this time?"

"Don't read anything into it sis."

"But -"

"Just leave it, yeah?" Brendan snapped, almost instantly filling with remorse, because when he turned back around he saw the hurt evident on Cheryl's face. In the distance, almost as though it was coming from the empty cellar, Brendan was sure he could hear that metallic scraping noise he had heard earlier. Suddenly claustrophobia washed over him, as though the club might drown him if he remained there. The air was thick and oppressive, and his heart began to pound erratically.

"Sorry Chez. It's been a long week. How about dinner in the Dog? Just you and me."

"Only if you're buying," Cheryl replied, Brendan instantly forgiven. Thank God for Cheryl, Brendan thought.

"Deal," he said. An hour or two away from the club and Steven and Warren bloody Fox was just what was needed. He would need a clear head to decide what the hell he was going to do next.