Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed last chapter! I loved writing some of it.
Totally meant to put this up yesterday, sorry about that, but y'all had Safe to keep you going anyway! That's way more exciting than this!
Anyway, Chapter 21 is below. Hope you enjoy and please read and review!
Brendan had always hated himself. It had only ever been the reason for that hatred that had changed. Once it had been because he hadn't been enough to stop his father leaving not just their home, but the country. Later it was for his perverse needs, his disgusting desires, the sinful fantasies about other boys.
Later, after he had found Steven and Steven had changed his life without even meaning to, he hated himself for the pain he caused, how much he had damaged Steven. It hadn't bothered him with the others, but watching someone he loved go through that, and knowing he was to blame… He should have known then that he was rotten all through. All he could do was infect the lives of the people close to him, poison and hurt the people he loved.
This was the right place for people like him. The world would be protected from the misery he caused. These four grey walls were a good thing. The only thing he should worry about was Steven. The idea of Steven waiting for him. His boy, his lover, growing older and putting his life on hold for someone so totally and completely unworthy of his love.
Brendan had always hated himself, but now, as he lay on that cold hard bed in a bare police cell, he knew for certain he deserved it.
Ste cried all the way back to the hotel. The helplessness was hitting him. He'd failed to get Brendan out. In fact, he'd made it far worse. He'd promised Brendan he would do something he didn't think he could do, and he was still scared shitless of the threats.
'Break the little shit's legs … sell the blond one's arse … bury you."
He couldn't face going back up to the room yet. He did not want to see Paddy. Maybe if he hung out at the bar long enough, Paddy would fall asleep.
He bought a beer, but his hand was shaking too much to hold the bottle. There weren't many people around, but the few that were made him jittery. He had to check the face of everyone in the room a lot of times, and still he couldn't relax. A drunken woman tried to hit on him, but he scared her off simply by being suspicious of her. He gave up at half past ten, praying the boys would be asleep by the time he got there.
As he crept up the stairs he began to get angry with himself – he had behaved very badly, too. He had run away. Paddy could have done anything. God knew how he was feeling now.
Ste took some time outside the door, trying to ready himself for whatever was on the other side. He waited for bravery that never came, then walked in.
Paddy was crashed out on one of the beds in the twin room. Ste had a little panic at the sight, until the boy snorted gently in his sleep. He might have looked peaceful, except for the tear stains on his cheeks Ste noted sadly, then checked the next bed. It was empty. His heart sped up. Had Declan wondered off? Had he gone looking for Ste and been taken? Were they fulfilling their promise as Ste stood there panicking?
Ste had the presence of mind to check the other room before he went mad with worry, where blond hair protruding from the sheets showed him how far he'd overreacted. He breathed in relief.
Both boys were safe. No thanks to Ste, of course, but it was something to be grateful for. But now there was a problem. After Paddy's… actions, Ste couldn't sleep in the same room as him. Which meant either get a new room, get in the double with Declan, or wake the elder boy up. He ruled out the first option – he had abandoned the boys once tonight, he couldn't do it again. As for the second – if Paddy woke up to find Ste sharing with Declan – well, the outcome could be unpredictable, and Ste didn't know whether Declan would have a problem with it or not anyway. So that left the last option.
"Declan," he called quietly, shaking the boy's shoulders gently, "Declan," he tried again.
Declan groaned but didn't open his eyes.
"Dec, I need us to swap beds."
"Ste?" said the boy in a confused voice.
"I can't sleep in there, I need to swap."
Declan blinked a few times and looked at Ste suspiciously. "Did you see him, then?" he asked.
"Er, yeah…" Ste replied, not wanting to get into it now, hoping Declan would just get out of bed and let Ste get some sleep.
"Right," replied Declan, "did he say he did it?"
"Declan!"
"Did he?"
"I'm too tired to have this talk right now."
"Why couldn't ya just sleep in there then?" asked Declan, "scared Padraig'll do ye in while you sleep?"
"No! Don't be stupid!"
"You know, I only slept in here 'cause his crying was keeping me up."
Ste blanched at that.
"He wouldn't tell me why…" the boy prompted.
"Well, I don't know, do I?" Ste snapped.
"Yeah, right," Dec snapped back, and threw his legs off the bed ready to storm off.
"Declan," Ste called after him, "Declan, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to have a go…"
Dec sighed and turned back to him. "I know," he said, "I'm just fed up with no one telling me what's going on."
Ste looked at the floor. There was no way he was telling Declan what was going on with Paddy.
Paddy. The name didn't fit, did it? Paddy. It was a name for a baby, the name for a mate down the pub, a term of endearment. It wasn't right for Ste's relationship with the boy. Maybe that was part of the problem.
"Declan, can you teach me how to say Paddy's proper name?"
Declan scowled, "What, now?"
Ste nodded.
In another part of town, Robert McGrath sighed in exhaustion as he poured himself a glass of wine. He needed it. He'd had one hell of a day.
Brady was dead. That fact alone had been enough to blow his mind.
And in a cell at McGrath's own nick was Brady's son. Brendan.
It had started when McGrath had seen Kennedy.
She'd been asking for advice about a callout. She was a good copper, Kennedy, always one eye open for anything dodgy, but with a good manner that could diffuse a situation before it got nasty. She'd just got back - some kid had reported his own father for rape. The young man the kid had thought was a victim had denied it heavily, but she hadn't known whether it was OK to leave it there. McGrath had advised her carefully – she was right to have been cautious, but nobody ever got a rape conviction when not even the victim supported it. McGrath knew better than anyone that more could be going on, though.
He'd only asked the names when she'd asked about checking the history. It had brought back memories from nearly twenty years ago.
Brady.
The man that had changed McGrath's life completely. Brady had made McGrath the man he was today. Not in the way Brady had intended. And Brendan was his son. McGrath remembered him too.
He'd said Kennedy shouldn't bother, told her he'd check it out before he went home. He hadn't; instead he'd sat in his office staring at his computer.
He'd been late in the following morning when the news came about Brady. Kennedy had already taken the opportunity to check out the Brady home again.
He had had no inclination to treat the death as suspicious. He could barely even bothered to check out the post mortem; he'd only popped down as an excuse to see Kate. She hadn't been ready, as he knew she wouldn't be, but an excuse to visit again tomorrow was always welcome to both of them. But some over-enthusiastic kid with an eye on promotion had wanted to check the rope. And it had seemed an important opportunity. With Kennedy's report weighing heavily on McGrath's mind, it seemed that Brendan had taken after his father, even killing the old man to take his mantle.
The sound of the front door opening pulled McGrath from his thoughts. It was swiftly followed by the clatter of heels, which were soon replaced by the patter of bare feet.
"I'm never wearing these shoes, ever again," groaned Kate, throwing the offending items into corner of the kitchen, "I don't care how professional I look, or how pretty they are."
McGrath smiled slightly. He loved Kate's temper tantrums. They were so eloquent, even when she would later deny every word of them.
"Wine?" he asked.
Kate pulled off her jacket too. "I knew there was a reason I married you," she said with a smile.
"You married me for my ability to pour wine?" he teased, as he did just that. She grinned at him cheekily.
"Pretty much, yeah. That and the foot-rubs."
He held back the glass playfully, his eyebrows raised, but she just kissed him and he gave up all his resistance.
"You alright?" Kate asked when they'd both pulled away, taking a sip from the wine she'd won.
"Yeah," he replied, "you know me, not much can keep me down."
She put her head to one side, "On a normal night that would be an innuendo by now."
He sighed.
"Are you sure it's him?" she asked.
"Course I am."
"It's been twenty years, Robby…"
"You don't forget someone who does that to you."
"I know, I'm sorry, it's just so… close."
She put the wine down and buried herself in his chest. It was exactly the same as Steven Hay had done to Brendan. He put his arms around her, feeling her warmth against him. She was impossibly perfect; clever, kind, funny, with a smile that made his belly dance even after five years together.
He remembered Brendan's words. Steven made him feel whole. Like Kate made McGrath feel. She'd done something he hadn't believed possible for years.
"What happened with the son?" Kate asked from his chest.
"Well, he murdered Brady. It couldn't be more obvious if we had a video of him doing it while waving his passport."
"So…" she prompted, "you can nail the rapist bastard."
He shook his head. "It's complicated," he said.
"How?" she asked, frowning.
"Brendan isn't the same. You can read it in his face. He didn't kill him in some get rid of the Dad for controlling my life so I can take over his empire in the process thing. He did it to protect him."
"Him?"
"Steven Hay."
"Who told you that?"
Robert snorted, "Neither of them."
"Then how…"
"It was the way they talked about each other. I mean, I read the file, Hay had accused the old man of attempted rape more than once, the second time with witnesses. Brady was on the run. I think he came after Hay, for revenge probably, and Brendan killed him."
Kate looked ready to cry. She knew what this meant to McGrath.
"You should have seen him, Kate, he called Hay 'the thing that makes me whole.' It wasn't planned, it wasn't pushed, it was exactly what he meant, and it was exactly how he felt. Then Hay, I pushed him to admit that Brendan was like his father, that he was a bully. He seemed broken hearted at the idea. Then I watched them together. I had to; I needed to see if he'd threaten him."
"What happened?" Kate asked.
"Brendan loves him more than his own life."
There was a silence in their flat for a moment.
Eventually Kate said, "You know, if I have to give the foot-rub tonight, I ain't gonna be impressed."
McGrath snorted.
Kate lifted her face from his chest, and put a hand to his cheek. "So, what do you want to happen?"
And that was the problem.
"Have you sent the post mortem to anyone yet?" he asked.
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