29.

Ste sits in a hospital waiting room, an unfortunately familiar position, or so he feels. He thinks about the hours he has spent on either side of the coin: waiting, or being waited on. It must add up to days, weeks even, experiencing that weird limbo that hospitals specialise in.

The relatives room he currently inhabits is a small one, more of a side room, with neutral flocked wallpaper and generic prints lining the walls. He is the only occupant. It is dimly lit to encourage dozing, benches with the armrests removed line the walls. Ste hasn't even considered sleep. He had been deposited in this room much earlier by harried but understanding nurses. Cheryl had been with him then, though she isn't now. Ste knows they must have had a conversation at some point, but it has disappeared out of his head and besides, he finds that being alone isn't entirely unwelcome.

The staff had given him scrubs to change into, as his tracksuit was ruined. The top in particular had been stained, and the material had stiffened uncomfortably as the blood had dried up. Cheryl had changed almost instantaneously; it was clear that she did not relish the reminder of the night's events. Ste had hesitated; it felt callous somehow to dispose of the clothes he had been wearing as he had held Brendan's life in his hands. Eventually he had given in, feeling claustrophobic at the thought of sitting there in the spoiled garments, pretending that no time had gone by.

Ste couldn't help but cast his mind back to the last time he had seen Brendan in hospital. The relief that he was okay was tempered with the knowledge of Brendan's confession and that nothing could ever be the same again. That day in the hospital had determined the next decade of Ste's life; ensured that he spent the next few years unable to let go of what could have been, spurred on his renewed relationship with Doug, as well as the disintegration of it much later. Ste is acutely aware of how the winds of change can blow everything off course with one seemingly innocuous event at its heart.

"You changed everything..."

When Ben arrives, quietly, approaching Ste warily, it takes Ste a moment to properly register his presence.

"What you doing here?" Ste doesn't mean for the words to come out sounding as accusatory as they do, and he feels immediately guilty for the flinch that crosses Ben's features. None of this is his fault, not really.

"I brought you some clothes. Thought you might like your own things."

The kindness of the gesture makes Ste's eyes sting.

"How did you know I was here?"

"Cheryl."

"Ah right."

Ste takes the bundle of clothing with him to the nearest restroom. Holding them up to his nose he breathes in the familiar smell, the scent of the detergent he uses as well as that faint background note that reminds Ste of his home. He changes into them carefully and washes his face, running fingers dripping with water through his hair. All of this makes him feel a little better. When he returns to the relatives room Ben is still there waiting for him, disposable cup full of tea next to him on the table. Ste sits without words, sips at the tea, flinches because the liquid is too hot for the delicate lining of his mouth. He looks at Ben questioningly.

"Where is Cheryl?"

"She's gone home to get some sleep. She's exhausted."

Ste nods; he vaguely recalls her telling him now that he's been reminded.

"You know, you must be exhausted too," Ben says carefully, hand on Ste's thigh.

"So?"

"So it's okay. To go home. To sleep."

Ste shrugs off Ben's hand, picking up the styrofoam cup and sipping at the too hot tea for something to do. Ben sighs and rubs his eyes. He looks tired too, Ste thinks.

"Let me look after you Ste. Please."

"Who's going to look after him eh?" Ste means it to be an angry query but his voice isn't behaving; he simply sounds drained, offering Ben further ammunition.

"The doctors. The nurses. Ste, Cheryl told me he is stable. And sedated. He doesn't even know that you're here."

"Yeah, but I know don't I. If I stay, I can live with myself."

"Live with yourself? Ste, this isn't your fault, you didn't cause this."

"Didn't I?"

"No," Ben says firmly, replacing the hand that Ste had removed on to his thigh once more.

"I could have left you. When he told me he still loved me, when he told me everything I wanted to hear. I could've walked away and then we wouldn't be here."

"Why didn't you then?"

Ste shrugs, thinks it over, but the buzzing in his head makes it difficult to organise his thoughts. None of his reasons seem valid now anyhow.

"Didn't want to hurt the kids. Hurt you."

There is a strange, pained expression on Ben's face that Ste has never seen before. He has been hurt anyway, Ste thinks, he didn't achieve anything with his list of best intentions. Ben doesn't comment on it however.

"Nothing you did would have made a difference. He's not well, and you couldn't have fixed that."

"He was better with me."

"Ste -"

"Well he was. They won't let me see him you know."

"You're not family," Ben states, and Ste nods. Not family. Not anything really. He can't lay claim to Brendan at all.

"Is there anything I can say to persuade you to come home?" Ben asks after a little while. Ste had forgotten the other man was there. He looks at the man he loves - despite everything, he does love him, even if the day's events have rendered him numb to it at present.

"I can't. Ben, try to understand. Please."

Ben kisses Ste's cheek tenderly, pulling his coat on to leave.

"I do understand, it's okay. Promise me you'll try and get some sleep at least."

He hands Ste a carrier bag that had been nestled at his feet, and slips out of the room with no further fuss. Ste pulls the blanket from his living room out of the bag, a comforting piece of home that proves to Ste how well Ben knows him. He knew that Ste wouldn't leave with him after all. A wave of exhaustion rolls over him and Ste carefully wraps his heavy limbs inside the fur lining, lying down on the chilled, unyielding benches.

When he wakes it is lighter. He shifts a little and notices that Cheryl is sitting next to his feet, gazing into the distance. She looks to be in deep thought, and as he drags himself into an upright position it takes her a while to tune back into the room and to acknowledge Ste. Cheryl smiles, her lovely face worn with anxiety.

"Hey you," she says, stroking the edge of the blanket that has fallen onto her seat as Ste shifted.

"What time is it?" he asks, an unexpected yawn accompanying his words.

"A little after eight. Still early. Just waiting on the doctor to finish her rounds."

Ste nods, beginning to fold the blanket carefully, joining the corners and pulling them taut. There is comfort to be had in the small, familiar rituals.

"You stayed here all night," Cheryl observes. It isn't a question, but it isn't quite a statement either. Ste wonders if Cheryl feels guilty for not staying herself: there is something vaguely hostile about her facial expression that Ste isn't used to.

"Yeah. I know I didn't need to or anything, but I just couldn't face going home."

"Did you speak to Ben?"

"A bit," Ste shrugs, folding the blanket back into its carrier bag. Cheryl watches him do this, waiting for his full attention.

"He was upset. When I saw him last night."

"I just can't think about Ben right now Chez."

Cheryl looks like she wants an argument - looks like she wants to shout at him. Perhaps she needs the release, perhaps it would distract her from Brendan and the doctors and the impending difficult medical dialogue.

"Nate's on his way," she says instead, more calmly than Ste had anticipated.

"That's good that is."

"Ben's picking him up from the airport."

"What do you want me to say Chez eh?"

Before Cheryl can respond the door opens and a nurse pops her head around it, glancing around the room.

"Ms Brady? The doctor would like a word if that's okay?"

As Cheryl nods and pulls herself up, Ste puts out a hand, grabs her arm, more roughly than he meant to. It startles her.

"Do you need me to come with you?" Ste asks, trying to keep the desperation from his voice. He wants to know what is going on with Brendan, yearns from an update more than anything.

"It's fine. I need to do this on my own."

Ste watches her leave, a protest or perhaps a plea dying on his lips.

He doesn't know how long passes. People come and go, but he barely notices. Ste thinks he must keep zoning out, because at one point he registers an older man sitting two seats down from him, no recollection of his arrival.

The relatives room is stuffy, almost unbearably warm - someone has clearly altered the thermostat. It makes the place feel claustrophobic, as though the benches are slowly shuffling towards him, closing in on him. Ste sheds his hooded top, feeling oddly vulnerable sitting in an old t shirt that he uses normally to sleep in. He clutches his own arms in a protective gesture. Ste allows himself to drift off once more into a sort of trance like state. He thinks about his children; about the talcum tinged baby scent of their earliest years, their soft folds of flesh as they wrapped their chubby arms around his neck when they were toddlers. He remembers being so needed. The loss of those years sometimes feels like a bereavement in itself, a time he can never get back.

He thinks about the desire to have another child, the urge to have all of those years for a second time, to cherish them and savour them because now he understands how brief they are. An image enters his head of a little girl, a little girl with dark hair and startling blue eyes, smiling an anxious smile, seeking approval. The features are so familiar to him that it makes his heart ache in a peculiar way. This little girl with Brendan's nose and eyes comes to him with such clarity that it makes him breathless. He feels like crying, yet no tears arrive.

When Cheryl returns it is clear that tears have not been a problem for her. She clutches a bundle of documents to her chest, and when she lowers herself gingerly into a chair across from Ste, a nurse is on hand to bring her tea, ensuring she is settled. There is a slight tremor in her hand as she grips a pen. Poised to begin the task, Cheryl shuffles the paper on her knee and scans the first sheet with swollen eyes.

"Chez... is everything..." he can't bring himself to say anything else. Brendan had been stable the night before, yet Cheryl's appearance suggested some change in these circumstances. She looks up at Ste's anxious face for a moment, before applying pen to paper, etching her signature onto the document. She places it face down on the chair next to her, proceeding to read the next sheet in the pile.

"How much did Brendan tell you about what was going on with him?" Cheryl asks, sounding more composed than her appearance would suggest. Only a congested back note in her voice gives any indication of previous distress.

"Dunno. I thought a lot, but after everything... Chez, what's happened?"

Continuing to read, Cheryl releases a bitter laugh that would have sounded more appropriate coming from Brendan.

"Anything about the therapist? Did he tell you about him Ste?"

"Look Chez, will you just -"

"He was sleeping with him. The doctor."

Ste feels his face crunch up with disbelief.

"Who? No, where would you get that idea?"

Cheryl stares at Ste properly for the first time since she returned to the relatives room, paperwork temporarily abandoned. There is sympathy in her eyes and Ste suddenly sees with a horrible clarity that it is true. His gut clenches as though he might be sick.

"That sorry excuse for a doctor told me love. I asked him to stop treating our Bren, told him that I'd report him if he didn't."

"You knew?"

"Yes. I'm sorry babe."

Ste doesn't want to believe it. He thinks about Brendan's hands on him, so urgent and reverent as they roamed across his body. Whispered conversations in Brendan's bed, deep intimacy in all they did, and yet Ste had never had an inkling that anything was going on with another man.

But then he remembers talking with Mark at the club on the night of the opening. The man had seemed so charming, so supportive. He thought that it was a good thing, that Brendan's doctor cared about him. Maybe that evening should have alerted Ste, but then Brendan's panic attack had happened, and he had come to the realisation that staying away from Brendan was nigh on impossible, at least for him. The sex had been uncomfortable and thrilling, the rush of it was just as electric as Ste had remembered. The guilt that had poured in soon afterwards had been about that; Ste hadn't felt that good in ten years. Brendan was not Ben and the illicit pleasure of the act with another man had been almost unbearable. His encounter with the doctor was wiped clean out of his head after all of that.

And the bruises. Mark's face had been a shock, a mess of swelling and unnatural colour. Ste couldn't help but think of Brendan's manic rage the night that Ste had compared him with Seamus. It makes him shudder even now when he thinks of it.

"He was sleeping with him. That's why Brendan lost it with him."

Cheryl nods.

"I think so. I don't know. But his behaviour - Bren's behaviour - it's not normal Ste."

Betrayal, irrational though it is, rips through Ste's heart. Images of Brendan fucking Mark in places that Ste thought were only his - it is too much to handle. The tears come without warning. Ugly gasping sobs pull at his lungs, making it hard to breathe.

When comfort comes, it is in the form of a set of solid warm arms wrapped around him. He blinks through the veil of tears and sees that Ben has arrived, is the one holding him, is rocking him from side to side as if he were an infant.

Ste makes an effort to compose himself, but it takes time. He gulps in air, trying to disperse the sobs, gratefully accepting the tissue that is wordlessly offered. Gradually he comes back to himself, pushing a soft kiss into the crook of Ben's neck. Ste peers around, once more aware of his surroundings.

"Where's Cheryl?"

The words are familiar; he feels the sensation of deja vu.

"Nate's here. They're outside talking with the nurses about moving him."

Ben doesn't say "his" name - he is clearly concerned that it will set Ste off again. Ste sits up a little.

"Moving him? Moving him where?"

Ben strokes a thumb across Ste's cheek tenderly, and Ste leans into the touch. He needs the contact.

"Didn't Cheryl talk to you about it? I thought what was why -" Ben hesitates. Ste can read between the lines though. He realises that whatever has happened with Brendan is enough for Ben to think that what he has just witnessed was a reaction to it. His mouth goes dry. He can hardly explain the real reason for his tears to himself, never mind to Ben.

"Tell me Ben. Please."

Ben takes a deep breath and holds onto Ste's arms.

"Brendan's been sectioned. They're moving him to a different ward, and from there he'll be moved to Bowmere hospital."

Ste can't speak.

"Bren's behaviour - it's not normal Ste..."

Cheryl had been about to tell him, he realises.

"Cheryl's upset about having to do it, but the doctors know what they're doing. It's the right thing Ste."

Ste nods. Later, he will sift through his memories, comb them for clues that Brendan needed help. He will spend hours recalling the occasionally wild expressions behind Brendan's eyes, will remind himself of every time that Brendan appeared to be elsewhere, or signs that whoever he was talking to wasn't in the room.

But for now, Ste is suddenly bone tired, knows that he does not have the energy to process the news. He looks at Ben's handsome, troubled face - this man who loves him, who is so careful with him, so considerate. Here for him, despite his own breaking heart. Ste leans in, kisses Ben quickly, a chaste peck on the lips. Ben looks surprised by the gesture, tracing fingers over his lips. Ste offers Ben a cautious smile.

"Let's go home," Ste says quietly.


When the weekend arrives, so do Leah and Lucas. It is the norm during term time, and although Ste now sees his daughter much more often with her shifts in his kitchen, the weekend visits remain in place. The routine is comforting, safe, and more than ever Ste wants to hold onto his children and never let go. Their visit this weekend was never in question despite everything that had happened - after all, how could he possibly explain the situation to Amy?

He remembers telling Amy about Brendan's return to Hollyoaks, the look of horror on her face that she had tried to disguise just a second too late.

"Why would he come back to Hollyoaks?" she had asked, suspicion evident in every line on her face. For me, Ste's brain supplied in a sing song gleeful voice.

"He's got the club," was what he said out loud, and Amy rolled her eyes in the way that Leah had made her signature.

"Well that'll be me not going there again."

"Yeah, and when was the last time you went 'The Loft' Amy?"

Amy, as always, had ensured that her disapproval was not open to interpretation. She loved Ben, often meeting him in Manchester for lunch, completely separate from Ste. Ste had always been relieved by their bond; life was so much easier when his family was in harmony. It was just one more reason that being irrevocably in love with Brendan was inconvenient at best. He had mentioned Amy's lack of enthusiasm to Leah, asking her not to talk too much about Brendan in front of her mother. Leah, who seemed to be steadfastly 'Team Brendan', couldn't understand the request, and Ste couldn't bring himself to tell her. In truth, he liked having Leah's support of Brendan, and he wasn't about to readily supply any details that might have derailed that.

So when he had called Amy and told her that Brendan was in hospital, she made sympathetic noises that were best suited to bad news about a distant acquaintance, but had then rapidly changed the subject. The purpose of the phone call hadn't really been to inform Amy of course; it had been primarily to put Leah's mind at rest - Leah, who had been there with him and Cheryl that day.

Ste is in the kitchen wearing navy sweats when the children arrive on Friday afternoon. He pulls three bowls out from one of the cupboards next to the fridge, having to stretch onto tiptoes to reach them. His eyes drift to the oven, checking the progress of the lasagne cooking there. The aroma of cheese, tomatoes and garlic is familiar, and he knows the positive reaction it will conjure up from Leah and Lucas. Sure enough, when Ste hears the door slam and keys land on the hallway sideboard, he only has to wait seconds for Lucas to walk in, following his nose as usual.

"Hey dad, is that lasagne I smell?" Lucas asks with his gentle smile. He leans where he always does - across the counter top, crossing his arms and holding his elbows in his hands. Ste feels the inevitable warm swell that he associates with the arrival of his family. Lucas is too old now for spontaneous affection, but is still young enough to show willing if Ste asks. He opens his arms in invitation.

"Come here, give your dad a hug will you?" Ste says, and Lucas obediently pads around the island and launches himself into his father's arms. Ste holds on for longer than he normally would, breathing in the scent of his hair, relishing the solidity, the realness of the body in his arms. Leah walks in quietly as Ste slowly relinquishes his hold.

"What's up dad?" Lucas asks, separating himself, retreating to his original position across the counter. Ste musters a grin for his son.

"I've missed you, haven't I. Allowed to do that aren't I?"

Lucas shrugs, squirming a little at Ste's overt affection. He won't hug me on demand soon either, he thinks to himself sadly. He knows that the grin on his face does not reach his eyes, because when he looks at Leah she raises cynical eyebrows in his direction.

"Want a drink dad? Luc?" Leah asks, opening the fridge. Ste dons his polka dot oven gloves; a birthday gift from the kids.

"Sure. Beer ta love," he says, pulling open the oven door and retrieving the lasagne, golden and bubbling in its dish.

"Should I take these through?" Lucas asks, picking up the bowls questioningly.

"Yes mate. Can you set the table too?"

"No probs dad," Lucas chimes. Ste has made lasagne on purpose because it is Lucas' favourite. Leah pulls two serving spoons out of a drawer and passes them to Ste.

"Have you seen him?" she begins with no attempt at preamble; absolutely her mother's daughter.

"We'll talk about this later Leah."

Leah blocks Ste's path to the living room, standing firmly between the island and the fridge, a drink in either hand.

"Please dad. You look -"

"What? What do I look?"

"Tired," Leah finishes, a slight defeatist shrug to her shoulders. The heat of the pyrex dish he is holding begins to filter through the padding of the oven gloves, and Ste places the dish on the counter, musters the effort to smile reassuringly at his daughter, who wears her worry like the heart on her sleeve: for all to see.

"Brendan will be fine. He has to stay in hospital for a while right, and I haven't seen him yet, but -"

"What's wrong with him?" she asks, the wobble in her voice betraying her act of grown up stoicism.

"Leah... you're old enough to know that not all illnesses are physical."

There is silence in the kitchen while she processes this information. An undulating hum in the background tells Ste that Lucas has turned on the television, turning as ritual dictates to the music channels. It is the only television that Ste and Ben allow through dinner, and it has always been down to Lucas to select the specific channel for the evening.

"So... you mean he's like depressed or something?"

Ste gives Leah a quick hug. He wants to dispel her uncertainty, despite still suffering with it himself.

"Or something sweetheart, yeah. Now let's go and have some tea while it's still hot, yeah?"


"Is Ben not here for tea?" Lucas asks when Ste comes to the table with the lasagne.

"No mate, he'll be here a bit later though."

Leah takes her seat, grabbing the tongs from the salad bowl and serving both herself and Ste.

"How come he's here later?"

Leah's query seems to Ste to have a note of disapproval, and he frowns at her, motioning for her to hand over her bowl.

"I've got the night off. Good that, isn't it?"

Ste's over the top cheer hits the spot with Lucas, who grins Ste's grin right back at him and declares that having a Friday night in with his dad is 'great'. Leah remains quiet, clearly deep in thought as she accepts her lasagne laden bowl back, lowering it carefully onto the placemat in front of her.

Ste feels a little guilty. He never takes Friday nights off; it is the busiest evening for the restaurant and as such the head chef's presence ensured the smooth running of service. During a service he barely even cooks himself anymore. Instead he keeps on top of the tickets, watches over the younger chefs in case they become overwhelmed, and works with his sous chef to ensure dishes that are released from the pass are to a consistently high standard. On a Friday he would normally run lunch and then prep for the evening, before heading home to the kids for a couple of hours. It was a hectic routine, but he loved it. Ben joined them for dinner if he was in the country, and would stay when Ste left for work, mainly spending the evening playing the game of the moment on the Playstation with Lucas. When Ste crept in, usually around midnight, Ben would be waiting up for him with a bottle of wine and recorded television. The easy simplicity of his domestic life had made him content before the chaotic ups and downs of the last five months. Ste finds himself wishing for the time before.

And so, although he is in a permanent state of anxiety about Brendan, it is not the primary reason for his weekend off. Ste wants to recreate the calm, wants to pretend just for a little while that everything in his life hasn't gone to hell. The dreams he has about his domestic idyll don't normally feature Ben, but he chooses not to dwell on that. Dreams are not reality, as Ste is only too aware.

Ben arrives a little after seven. Lucas runs at him and launches himself onto him. For a moment Ste is irrationally angry with his son, as though he is purposely flaunting his connection with Ben to exacerbate Ste's guilt. There is a hesitancy to Ben's affection that is not normally there; his peck on Ste's cheek is almost wary, and he doesn't lift Lucas off the floor as he usually does. Desperate to put him at ease, Ste grabs Ben's hand, pulling him back and kissing the lips that are so familiar to him. He is gratified by the almost instantaneous warmth that blooms in Ben's dark eyes.

"Just going to do your tea," Ste murmurs, retreating to the kitchen. As he slides the lasagne dish into the prewarmed oven, his gaze lands on the fridge door and the photographs that are cheerfully stuck there with multi coloured magnets. The image of Leah and Brendan is still in its place, despite Ste's falling out with him weeks earlier. Plucking the photo from its place, Ste adopts Lucas' earlier position, leaning across the counter with the image in his hands. He strokes his index finger across the plane of Brendan's cheek, as though he could conjure the man in the photo to life in front of him if he concentrated hard enough. The creases around the eyes, those indicators of unexpected happiness, the place where Leah has affectionately pushed her face against his, concertinaing the soft flesh of their cheeks - these are the things that Ste wants to see when he thinks about Brendan. He considers the other photograph from that day that he has kept, well hidden in a bedroom drawer; a photograph that had startled him with its honesty. Anyone who saw it would know that Ste loved Brendan, all of their intimacy and shared passion was evident in the tilt of his chin and the intensity of their locked gaze. It is painful to think of, now.

The evening goes on. Ben eats and praises Ste's cooking, Leah finds a film for them all to watch, fighting with Lucas for a larger share of the blanket. It's almost mundane in its normality. Ste allows himself to relax a little, taking the glass of red wine that Ben offers, listens as Leah bargains for half a glass, smiles when Ben shows her how to swirl the liquid against the glass to see its legs. Leah agrees to load the dishwasher and clean the kitchen down, but Ste takes pity on her, helping her with the task while Ben and Lucas play a round of Fifa. The conversation is light, easy, and if Leah notices that the photograph of her and Brendan had moved, she doesn't mention it. When they are finished, she hangs the teatowel on its hook and kisses Ste on the cheek.

"I'm off to bed. Sleep well dad."

It is difficult for Ste not to be overcome. He takes a deep breath to steel himself, heading back into the living room.

"Come on Lucas mate, bed time."

Lucas looks longingly at the TV screen and the game in progress.

"Can I just finish this one game?" he asks, a slight whine in his voice that Ste would usually pull him up on, but on this occasion, too tired to argue, he shrugs and allows them to carry on.

When Lucas finally admits defeat and reluctantly drags himself to his room, Ste releases an exaggerated yawn, his mouth stretching into a wide 'o'.

"I'm knackered, me," he says, primarily to reassert the point. Ben studies Ste's face with an intent and determined focus that makes Ste uncomfortable.

"Before you go to bed, I think we need to talk Ste. Now that we're alone."

Ste zeroes in on the singular pronoun, and he reaches across the sofa to put a hand on Ben's thigh.

"Are you not staying then?" he asks softly. Ben sighs, rubbing his eyes and seeming vaguely irritated.

"That kind of depends on you."

"The kids will think its weird, won't they, if you're gone when they wake up."

He can tell he's said the wrong thing instantly. Ben unfolds his leg from under him, dislodging Ste's grip on his thigh as he does so.

"Maybe you could explain it to them. You could tell them about how you've been having an affair, see what they make of that."

Probably not the time to mention that Leah already knows, Ste thinks to himself. Ben pours wine from the bottle that is still stationed on the coffee table, taking a heavy gulp from his glass.

"Ben -"

"Look, I've tried to be as understanding as I can, okay? I've tried to support you, after what happened, with what you saw and what you had to deal with. But I can't keep sweeping my feelings under the carpet because of Brendan trying to hurt himself. It isn't fair."

"Eh? That's not what happened, it were an accident right, Brendan didn't, he wouldn't..."

Ste isn't sure who he is trying to kid. There is a sympathetic expression on Ben's face now, and it is somehow worse than the anger.

"Ste, have you still not spoken to Cheryl?"

He shrugs defensively. He isn't sure why he is avoiding Cheryl - he felt that she was angry with him for some reason, but that wasn't the whole story. An image of Brendan on the floor of the club, the doctor leaning across him trying to stem the bleeding pops into his head, and Ste closes his eyes against it.

"No. But you have clearly."

"I wanted to check she was doing okay. You know, like I've been doing with you?"

Ste feels affronted, as though Ben is talking about him like he is a wounded animal, but he decides it probably isn't the time to express this.

"So what did she say then? Is she okay? What about Brendan?"

"She's alright. Nate's taking good care of her."

There is an awkward pause while Ben takes another gulp of wine.

"Listen Ste, what do you know about what's happened?"

"Not a lot. Only what I got told at the hospital."

"Well I don't know much about it either, but Cheryl told me there are different types of section, based on the severity. It can determine the length of time of the hospital stay."

"I get it. So which type applies to Brendan?"

"The most severe. I'm sorry Ste. It'll be at least six months, and even then the doctors might decide to keep him admitted for longer."

"You can't go to prison again. I couldn't do it..."

It was mere weeks ago, although now it seems like years. Ste had panicked about the impact of Brendan's violence on him - on them. The idea of Brendan being locked away again had been unthinkable. Now, one way or another, it felt as though it had happened anyway.

"He hates being locked up," Ste murmurs, and Ben hands him a full glass of wine. He realises then that his hands are trembling. The wine tastes oddly metallic on his tongue.

"It isn't the same. He's not a criminal this time."

Ste glances at Ben, a glance laden with meaning. Years earlier, Ste had told Ben about Brendan taking the blame for Seamus' death, in an effort not to be judged as someone who had been in a relationship with a murderer. He hadn't told Ben the whole story of course - only that Brendan had been protecting the real culprit for reasons that weren't Ste's to divulge. He still feared Ben working out that Cheryl was the person being protected, although he was almost certain that Ben wouldn't say anything even if he did. It helped that he seemed to be very fond of her.

"He'll get help. He needs help," Ben continues, and Ste nods robotically in response.

"There's something else... there's going to be a criminal case against the doctor who's been treating him. It's been alleged that he misdiagnosed Brendan deliberately to keep him as his patient."

A cold chill prickles across Ste's skin, and it makes him shiver. The bruised face of the doctor comes to mind; the hopelessness and guilt that had been evident as Cheryl questioned him. In hindsight Doctor Phillips had obviously known the writing was on the wall when they had appeared on his doorstep looking for Brendan.

"That's sick."

"Oh, I don't know," Ben says thoughtfully, "people do strange things when they think they're in love. Out of character things."

Ste's eyes begin to tear up, despite his attempts to halt the process. He tilts his head up, reaches across to the adjacent couch to pull the blanket over his lap.

"I didn't know."

"What, that Brendan was sleeping with his doctor? I didn't suppose you did. Must be a bit of a kick in the teeth for you, the man you love shagging someone else."

"Ben..."

Ben shifts his body to face Ste, who cocoons himself in the throw and it's comforting layers of fur protection. Tears stream freely now.

"In a way I understand. It was unfinished business with Brendan, you didn't get to play it out. I get it, the 'what if', because he was taken from you when you loved him so much. And when he came back... well, we've been together a long time, and I'm away a lot."

"It was never about us Ben. I love us."

Ste has never seen Ben cry. Their life together has never given him cause. But now, through his own mask of tears, he sees that the dark eyes he loves so dearly have that telltale shine to them.

"I know. I do know that Ste. And I thought to myself, if I just bide my time, wait for it to run its course..."

The emotion in Ben's voice stings Ste into honesty.

"It wouldn't have... run its course I mean."

"No. When I realised that, I went to Brendan. I feel badly about that now," Ben says, turning his face away from Ste, "but I was desperate. The thought of losing everything we'd built... it terrified me."

"It still terrifies me," Ben continues, "and that's what I really wanted to say. What we have together Ste, isn't it worth fighting for?"

Ste pushes the heels of his hands into his eyes until he sees an opalescent matrix blurring his vision. The answer is so simple, yet not really simple at all.

"So much has happened though. How can you ever forgive me for it?"

A hand is on Ste's blanketed knee now, tentative and gentle.

"Because I love you. And the future we had planned, it's still there waiting for us. I start my new job next week, and the house is there, just waiting for us to move into it. Plus, there's these..."

From his laptop bag that is balanced against the sofa, Ben pulls out a bundle of papers. The adoption, Ste realises.

"Not sure I'm ready for that yet, me. Maybe we should give it a few months..."

Hope lights up Ben's face, and once again Ste cannot believe the pain he has caused him. He owes him this, to try again. He can shut down the part of his brain that is thinking about Brendan, just like he has done before. He can section off the part of his heart that is scarred with Brendan's name.

"I know you can't switch your feelings off overnight Ste, and I don't expect that. Just give me the chance to show you how good it can be."

Ste breathes in steadily, fortifying himself.

"Okay."

As Ben enfolds him into his embrace, into warmth and familiarity, Ste feels the beginnings of grief take hold.


It takes until the 'for sale' sign goes up outside the flat for Leah to say something. Ste knows his daughter, knows that she has been biding her time, assessing the situation. She smiles when shown the photographs of the new house, and eagerly spends a day with Ben at his new offices. Nevertheless, she seems cautious around Ste, as though she is stopping herself from saying what she really wants to say.

The day the 'for sale' sign is put up feels like the first day of spring. The sun beams down on Ste as he looks up at the building, shielding his squinting eyes with his hand. Time to step up the job search, he thinks. He has been asking around, covertly of course, because the commute from Altrincham, while not beyond the realms of doability, was still twice what it would be if he worked in the city centre. Ste had never really considered himself ambitious, yet the idea of being a head chef in the centre of a city like Manchester was appealing. A whole new chapter seemed right somehow.

As he turns away from the building he almost careers straight into Leah, who looks momentarily startled as a result.

"Leah! Didn't see you there."

"You're really doing it then? Selling it?" Leah asks, pointing up at the sign. With a frown caused by looking towards the sun on her face, Ste is given a preview of what Leah will look like in adulthood, and he is forcibly reminded that she is almost there, will soon be living out her own dramas, falling in love for better or worse. It is unsettling.

"Yes love. No point in keeping it when we've got the new house."

"Isn't there?" Ste sighs, pressing his back into the railings and brickwork behind him, savouring the sensation of cool through his polo shirt. From this vantage point he is looking almost right at the house where Brendan and Cheryl used to live. He wishes that crossing the threshold of that place, the setting for so much of his first love story, could transport him back to those moments, to that time.

"I'm not talking to you about this Leah, okay?"

"But I don't get it. You're going on as though nothing's happened..."

"Do you not like Ben? Is that it?"

"No, you know I do. He's great. But -"

"But what?"

"But what about Brendan?"

There are tears in his daughter's eyes. He gestures for her to perch next to him, and he loops an arm around her skinny shoulder, pressing a kiss into the apple of her cheek.

"Sweetheart -"

"We can't just abandon him."

"No-one's abandoned him, he's in hospital."

"Exactly. He's sick, and we're all playing happy families as though he was never here. I told him I'd fight his corner dad."

"When did you tell him that?"

A cloud momentarily covers the sun, and a chill permeates the air. Goosebumps prickle on Ste's bare arms.

"When I gave him the letters. I knew you would never ask him to read them, but he needed to. I thought you'd be angry with me, but we never talked about it after. That's because it worked, didn't it?"

Ste allows himself to look back over the time since Brendan had returned. Since the moment he had laid eyes on him again he had been so desperate for Brendan's touch. He had laughed at himself at the time; after everything they'd been through, together and apart, the first thing that had struck Ste had been how much he still fancied him. He had felt like a teenager again, as though he was reliving the thrill of the early days, the first kisses and their intensity, the first stinging of stubble rash on his chin and later across his body. The night he had gone round to Brendan's to find him surrounded by the painstakingly written volumes of his love and heartbreak, Ste had known how it was going to go. Before he had left his flat he had loaded up his pockets with condoms, without thinking too much about the implications of his actions. He left the guilt of using them all for the following day, when he had got everything he wanted.

"Yeah. It worked," Ste admits, knowing that as much as he dislikes the idea, he has to find a way of explaining things to Leah, has to try to make her understand something that he doesn't fully understand himself.

"You could see it," she says with a little nod, "in every look he gave you. How much he loved you. And the letters said how much you loved him."

His daughter, the hopeless romantic.

"Leah. It's difficult for you to understand this right, because it hasn't happened for you yet. But... Brendan was my first love. Love like that... well, it's the strongest and the most painful love you'll ever feel."

"Painful?"

"Yes sweetheart. Loving Brendan has caused me the most pain I've ever been through in my life."

He doesn't add that paradoxically it has also caused him to feel intense happiness such as never before or since. The best of times, the worst of times. Leah doesn't need to know that.

"You still love him though."

"I'll never not love him. Never. No matter what he does."

Ste is still smarting over the revelations over the doctor and Brendan, though he is doing his best not to think about it, as an explanation was unlikely to be forthcoming any time soon.

"But then -"

"But I love Ben too. In a different way, but it's still just as real. I love our family, and he loves us. It's the right thing for everyone."

"Except for Brendan."

Except for Brendan. Something deep within Ste's chest twists painfully. He releases Leah's shoulder, threading his hand through his hair and remaining quiet; he doesn't know what else to say. Leah sniffs next to him, but when he looks back at her her eyes are dry. She is staring contemplatively at the sun lit paving slabs.

"Could I go and see him?" she asks quietly, as though she fears being shot down.

"I've already tried to. He isn't allowed visitors right now."

It is the truth. Despite assurances to Ben about the new start, Ste had been to the hospital twice weekly since Brendan's move there. Each time the staff were polite, understanding, but ultimately firm in their rejection of his pleas for information. He has been waking up from nightmares of Brendan strapped down and gagged, terror evident in his trapped eyes. Ste knows of course that it wouldn't happen like that in this day and age; nevertheless not seeing him doesn't help with his overactive imagination.

"Do you think he'll get better?"

Ste's instinct is to lie, to reassure Leah and say that he's certain he will recover, that Brendan has always fought everything in his path, whether it needed fighting or not. But the words won't form on his lips.

"I don't know Leah. I really don't know."


"If you want to leave something, I can make sure he gets it..."

Ste thinks long and hard about what he can give - what does he want Brendan to have? How to communicate everything he wants to say without being face to face: it is a question that remains in his head for days. He spends most of his next three shifts at work distant and distracted. It is easy to pass it off as sadness at his imminent departure to a fine dining restaurant in the northern quarter of Manchester. The staff he has built up the business with are heartbroken, and so it is a simple thing to use the muted atmosphere already in place as a shield.

After a nearly sleepless night, Ste comes to a decision. This time there will be no letters, no declarations of love and sorrow. He will not do that to himself again.

When Ste finds the kindly receptionist that made him the offer the next morning, she smiles warmly at him in recognition. He hands her a stiff card envelope with Brendan's name carefully printed on it.

"Who should I say it's from?" she asks gently.

Ste scratches the back of his head, watches a nurse close one of the security doors behind him, an almost inhuman howl cut off as the lock clicks shut. The nurse is young, slim and fair haired. There are fresh grazes on his bare arm in the crescent moon shape of fingernails.

"Er... he'll know who it's from," he says distractedly, still watching the nurse murmuring calmly to a harried looking colleague - a doctor he guesses, due to the lack of scrubs.

"Are you alright love?" the receptionist asks. Ste wants to nod, to say 'of course', and then make a hasty exit from this building that is full to the brim with anguish and suffering.

"Look, I know you can't really tell me anything, and I get that right, but I just want to know... if you gave this to Brendan right now, today, would he recognise - I mean, is he well enough to - shit..."

Ste knows he is babbling, and his companion puts a sympathetic hand on his arm.

"Let me have a quick look at your friend's records, okay? Just between you and me though."

Ste thinks about following her behind the desk, trying to get a proper look at Brendan's file, but he somehow resists the urge. When she returns, her eyes are filled with pity and it makes him feel sick.

"He's pretty heavily sedated at the moment, so if I'm honest love, he won't be aware of much at all. Is that what you wanted -"

"Yeah," Ste says abruptly, in a louder voice than intended, "thanks."

He turns away from the desk, from the well meaning receptionist who has told him more than she should because of his tragic perseverance, from the handsome young nurse who offers him an understanding smile. Before he can leave though, something makes him turn around.

"I'm sorry, one more thing. If it's not too much trouble. Can you wait to give Brendan that envelope? Until he is aware I mean?"

"Course we can," the receptionist gives him that consolatory smile and nod again, and Ste finds himself nodding in return.

"Cheers," he says, and this time when he turns away he does not look back.


A/N: So it turns out that I find writing from Ste's perspective really difficult! This was something I plotted in way back when I started writing, because of Brendan being out of action but also to fill in some of the questionable conclusions Brendan leapt to - for example, the idea that Ste would ever tell anyone about the abuse Brendan suffered. Hopefully it has also made Ben a slightly more likeable character - he was always supposed to be a 'nice guy', but again through Brendan's eyes he most certainly took on a more sinister slant. I have tried to characterise Ste's confusion and desire to keep his family together as understandable, even though he really isn't prepared to give Brendan up to do so. Hope this comes across.

Next chapter is back to Brendan (thankfully)! Thank you yet again to readers who have stuck with me - not many chapters left now...