AN: Thanks for the reviews. Did I shock you? (Smirks evilly)
Continuity is tricky. Enjoy!
Brendan felt himself going crazy. He tried contacts all over the city. He tried bribes, he'd tried threats, he'd got himself out of his depth and only got out by the skin of his teeth. But he'd got nothing in return – no whiff of his father. Either no one knew anything, or his father was better funded (or scarier) than he wanted to think.
He was exhausting the possibilities fast, trying every car rental he knew of, and using a mixture of threats and charm to get what he needed from receptionists. Nothing sounded likely. No names, time frames. He beat up a small tree outside the last one, as he realised that he had to tell Eileen and Declan now. There was no way out of it. He had to find out what they knew, if they had any clues about where the old bastard may have taken them. They would be devastated. They would fall apart.
He got back in the car, one window still broken; he hadn't had the time to get it fixed, and didn't have the motivation until his reasons for living returned, and breathed deeply.
Eileen was already a bit flustered when he knocked. "There ye are at last," she said instead of a greeting, "Our Declan was all upset when he got home, saying you picked up Paddy and not him. Why would you do such a thing, ey? Is it something to do with what happened last year? Ye haven't left him on his own with that…" her lip curled, "Ste, have ye?"
Brendan's heart sank again, and he realised he'd let himself hope that Padraig at least would be fine, and at home having just bunked off or something.
"Is Deccy here?" he asked.
"'Course, he's upstairs, I'll just…"
"No, just… just go sit down, we need to talk."
"What?"
"Just sit down."
"I will not sit down, Brendan Brady," Eileen said, in the shrill voice of nagging women everywhere, "you tell me what's going on this instant!"
Great start, Brendan thought.
"It's…" he started.
"Alright, Dad?" interrupted Declan from the stairs, "how come you picked Paddy up early?"
"I didn't," Brendan replied, trying not to look panicked while slipping through the door finally, "look, let's all sit down in the living room."
"What do you mean you didn't pick him up?" Eileen shrieked.
"What, is he with Ste?" Declan asked.
"Just shut up!" Brendan shouted, almost losing his temper, having to take deep breaths. He'd let his temper lose too much already today. "Declan, when was the last time you saw him?"
"On the way to school. We walked together," Dec replied, reaching the bottom step and frowning.
"You were with him all the way?"
"No, I left him to meet some mates."
"Brendan," cried Eileen, "what has happened to him?"
They were still stood in the hallway, the door still open, but Brendan had to tell them what he knew. Which wasn't much really, just the text Ste had left for him.
Eileen was in bits before he finished.
Paddy ran all the way to the village, fuelled completely by adrenaline. It took ages, and by the time he got there he felt like he'd been run over. There wasn't a part of him that wasn't throbbing or aching, and now his lungs were gasping too, and his heart pounding, trying to keep him going.
He sprinted to the first house that he saw and pounded on the door. "Let me in! I need to use your phone!"
"Get lost," shouted a scared voice from inside. "Go away, I'm calling the police."
"No! Please don't! If he sees the police he'll… Please, I'm going."
Padded jogged away from there. The next house he tried didn't even answer. He swore loudly and kicked at the door which was probably why the next house didn't answer either.
It was a very small village, and there weren't many houses left to try. Then he saw the pub, lit up on the corner between the village's only two streets. He ran to it and straight inside.
A handful of people were sat mournfully about a bar and some tables, and every head turned to him as he entered. He didn't care. He ran straight to the bar.
"I need to use your phone!"
The barmaid looked bewildered.
"Now!" he shouted.
He could see her recoiling. He couldn't afford that. "Please, please! It's an emergency. Look at me!"
She looked undecided for a moment longer, then lifted the barrier and guided him to the living area.
"Thank you," he said, and grabbed the phone.
What to dial though? If Ste had Dad's phone, Granddad would have it now, and he wasn't sure he could remember any mobile numbers anyway. They were all stored in his phone. He'd never bothered to memorise them.
He couldn't call the police either. That wouldn't work. He needed Dad. He was the only one who could sort this out.
And he could only think of one possibility.
He dialled his own home number. Mam was going to freak.
Brendan drove Declan along the route to school, while Declan, sat in the back to avoid the broken window, described everything he could remember, his face pale, his voice wavering.
The accusations had flown the moment Eileen had understood the whole truth. He'd thrown some back. He'd lost count of the times he told her not to keep contact with the old man, he'd shouted. He was still Brendan's father.
He told her he would deal with it, that there would never be a problem with his father again, and he meant it.
They found nothing on the route. They knocked on a few doors with a photo of Padraig, but no one seemed to know anything. How could no one notice a child being abducted in the middle of the day?
They drove back, Declan's tears falling slowly as he tried to be manly. Brendan tried to comfort him with assurances he didn't really know himself.
"He's not going to hurt Padraig," he said, for his own benefit as much as Declan's.
Declan sniffed. "And Ste?"
Steven. Steven had fought the old bastard off once. Maybe he could do it again.
"Steven's stronger than he looks, Deccy."
Declan nodded, maybe wanting to believe that as much as Brendan.
They got back to the house and Brendan parked the car, then sat in silence for a few minutes more. Brendan glanced at Declan in the rear view mirror. He wasn't sure he could have looked at him in person. "I will find him, Dec. I'll bring them home, and he will not be bothering us again."
Dec nodded again. "I know you will."
Declan still had faith in him. That helped. A lot.
"Come on then."
They both got out, and into the house just in time to see Eileen throwing herself at the house phone.
"Padraig?"
They both stared at her. Her face fell, and she slammed the phone down without saying anything else.
"It wasn't him," she said. And it didn't matter who else it was. Nothing else mattered.
She sat down again on the stairs beside the phone. Dec sat next to her and put his arm around her shoulders.
"I'll make us some tea, yeah?" said Brendan, and started to walk to the kitchen.
The phone jangled. Eileen sprang up. "Padraig?"
Declan and Brendan stared at her face again. They saw it change, from pure fear to hope, to a smile.
"Padraig! Where are you?"
Brendan was beside her in an instant.
"He's right here," Eileen said, "where are you? Are you OK?"
She listened, and Brendan put his ear against the phone, and just about heard "I'm fine, but please Mam, I need to talk to Dad."
Brendan took the phone. "I'm right here son. Where are ye? I'm coming to get ye."
Padraig was so relieved to hear his father's voice. He gave him the name of the village, and directions to the cottage.
"I'll be there as soon as I can Padraig. Where are you now?"
"I'm in the pub in the village…" he started.
"Good," said Dad, "stay there."
"But Ste…"
"It's not your responsibility. Tell the people you're with I'll pay them to let you sleep there tonight, and I'll be with you before you know it."
"No, Dad," he insisted. "I've left Ste alone with him. If he realises I'm not there, God knows what he'll do."
"Padraig, you stay where you are!"
"Dad, I've got to go or he'll realise. I've got to be there for Ste!"
"Padraig!"
He hung up on him. He knew what he had to do.
The bar maid was staring at him like he was crazy.
"Thanks," he said, with no intention to explain what just happened. "I've got to go. Here."
He grabbed a piece of paper and drew a quick map to the cottage.
"If a man with a moustache shows up looking for his son or his boyfriend, give him that."
"His son or his…?" The barmaid started to repeat.
Paddy didn't listen to the question. "Thanks," he shouted again over his shoulder as he ran back out again, up the streets, and back to the cottage. He didn't dare look in the window downstairs. The drainpipe was much harder to climb up than it was to get down. He used a bin and the window ledges to climb back up again, cutting his hand as he forgot the jagged bits of glass that still remained.
He tugged the curtains as closed as they would go, then lay on the bed, curled up, hoping desperately to get some sleep, but all the time imagining Ste and Granddad. Granddad and Ste. It ran through his mind, like a child playing games, just out of reach, but never leaving him alone.