AN: Some people misunderstood the previous AN. I don't mean Stalker are definitely going to happen. This is a Stendan fanfiction, because Stendan are the best thing to happen to television in a decade. I meant there was never enough Stalker interaction on the show. It should have been a massive part of the storyline, but we didn't even get to see Walker lock him in a fridge. Stupid TV show.
I hope you're all still enjoying it! x
Ste swore under his breath. What was he doing? Was he that pathetic that he couldn't keep one, admittedly quite enormous secret? He tried to hide it, "I mean, I don't know, I mean... he wouldn't go away, like, forever and not, you know, tell anyone, would he?" But he couldn't keep eye contact and Cheryl was glaring at him.
"You better start making sense, Ste Hay, or you will see a whole new side of me!" she threatened, and Ste knew he couldn't last much longer.
"Look, Cheryl," he tried, "he begged me not to tell ya."
"Tell me what?" Cheryl hissed
Ste fidgeted. If he told Cheryl, Brendan might hate him forever. It might even be enough for him to end it all. It wasn't like it would be Brendan's only reason to end things with Ste. He was very clear about not wanting Cheryl to know.
"Tell me what?" Cheryl repeated in a furious growl.
But then again, it wasn't fair to keep it from Cheryl. She was a grown woman who needed to know her brother's life was in danger. And not spend this time, when she could be helping to keep him safe, hating him. If, heaven forbid, Brendan didn't get better, she would hate herself forever. That wasn't fair. Surely.
Ste made his decision. "Right, he doesn't want you worrying, right?"
"I'm not worried," hissed Cheryl, "I'm furious!"
"Cheryl, he's …" Ste couldn't believe this was happening. He was breaking Brendan's trust, but Cheryl deserved to know, and surely it was better than her thinking he'd abandoned her? "He was stabbed."
Cheryl's face froze in the expression of pale lipped fury she'd been wearing since before Ste spoke, with only her eyes betraying that she had even heard his words. He wasn't sure if it was still fury or if it was turning slowly to shock.
"He's OK!" he cried, before her imagination could come up with anything even more awful than the truth, "well, he's not, obviously, but he's going to be. The nurse came and stitched him up, and …"
"Stabbed?" cried Cheryl. "Who stabbed him?"
Ste pictured the boy he'd been face to face with, who had done such a terrible thing, and who he was going to kill tonight. "I don't know," he said. It wasn't a lie.
"Where is he?" Cheryl asked, her face pure white, and her voice shaking.
"At his," Ste said, and suddenly spotted an excuse for his family's presence at the Brady house, which Cheryl was soon to discover anyway, "My Amy's looking after him. I was too but he asked me to check on you."
"I need to see him," Cheryl said, standing with determination.
Ste swallowed, "He made me promise not to tell you," he pleaded, "if you just show up, he'll…"
"Are you lying to me?" Cheryl demanded.
"No!" Ste protested.
"Because if you are, you will not only be fired, you will never work anywhere again, I will destroy you, do you understand?"
His sympathy for Cheryl waning, Ste stated the obvious, "I could never lie about something like that!"
"Then show me!" she demanded, storming out of the office. Ste followed, arguing meekly.
"Cheryl, he's going to furious with me! Please Cheryl, if he knows I told ya, he's gonna be so angry! I'll be lucky if he just sacks me. Cheryl, please, don't…"
But Cheryl wouldn't heed his words. She left the club by the back door, her face losing colour with her fear and her anger. The now familiar route to the Brady house seemed too short. The dread and the panic making the time rush past him at a grossly unfair speed. He could think of no way to stop her going straight to Brendan and telling him exactly how she knew. She wouldn't be put off now if Ste claimed to be lying. She was going to see her brother whatever Ste said or did now. It was just a matter of time before another massive obstacle stood between Ste and the man he loved.
But Ste had another decision to make right now. He couldn't stop Cheryl, but he still had to choose. Either he could go with her, into Brendan's bedroom, accept the incriminations, the anger, the betrayal Brendan would send his way, and suffer whatever implications Brendan was going to throw at him. There was a chance, if he went in, that Brendan would let him explain why he had done it. That he would forgive Ste.
It was a very slim chance.
Or he could just go back to the club once he'd let Cheryl in. Simon was expecting him. They had an important job to do, however much that job terrified Ste. Whatever Brendan's reaction to Cheryl finding out, it wouldn't change the way Ste felt about the man. It wouldn't stop him loving him, nor even regret loving him. And maybe, once Brendan knew what they had done, he would be grateful enough to forgive him. Should they all live that long.
Somehow the decision came easily. To Ste, confronting someone who had attempted murder still felt less terrifying than seeing Brendan angry with him again.
Cheryl didn't try to start anymore conversation, so when Ste got to the house and let her in, he didn't feel the need to explain why he wasn't following her up to Brendan. He shut the front door behind her and locked it again. Nobody had tried to break in since Danny's men had followed Ste, but that was before someone had tried to kill Brendan and the rules had changed. Security had never been so vital.
He had made the walk to Brendan's on full alert for followers or anyone looking even slightly suspicious, and went back to the club in the same manner. The sky had darkened to an angry shade of grey, and rain looked ready to burst from the heavens, as though God were ready to destroy his creation again, get rid of the lowlifes like Danny and his gang and Ste and Brendan, and start again with the innocent.
He went in the back door of the club, and just so he was doing something, he started serving beside Rhys. He paid little attention to the customers beyond which drinks they wanted, not to flirt, not to pass the time of day. He basically ignored Rhys, too, except for when they were in each other's way, and when closing time came, people seemed to melt as he approached them. Maybe there was something in his face that they didn't want to deal with; desperation, a misery, a fear that could have led to danger. Or maybe he was just lucky that night. The bar was cleared and empty before ten minutes were up.
They cleared the bars of dirties, and then, when the staff realised neither Cheryl nor Brendan were around to protest, they dumped the dirty cups and glasses by the sink before clearing off for the night. After they had gone, Ste stared at the pile waiting for Simon, hoping for the motivation to get some cleaned. No motivation came. None would until tonight was over and done with. He was under no illusions about his own strength and prowess. His plan may be to kill a man, but there was no guarantee the man wouldn't kill him.
Simon seemed to take his time arriving. To Ste it felt like he had waited alone for the man for half the night, and had he been less on edge he may even have fallen asleep. When Simon did finally arrive, Ste wasn't sure if he should be pleased or terrified that the older man looked as nervous as he felt.
When Simon's gaze landed on him, it was intense. "Are you ready?" he asked, all flirtation and fun gone, replaced by a serious forcefulness. All Ste could manage was a nod, which Simon took as full acceptance of the situation. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a knife.
"This is for you," he said, pushing it into Ste's hand even while it dangled by his side. Ste almost rejected the object. He'd held plenty of knives before, for all sorts of jobs, but never knowing it was for this purpose. He forced himself to take the handle and look at the blade. Three inches long, it would be enough to kill if only he got close enough. He shivered at the thought.
"What about you?" he asked, his voice quiet and strangely dead.
Simon showed Ste a second knife, the same size as the one he'd given Ste. The sight filled Ste with further dread. His heart began to race. His whole body ached to run and hide under the covers beside Brendan. But that was not an option. Cheryl was there, and Brendan would hate him. And he needed to do this. He needed to protect the people cared about.
Simon must have seen the thoughts cross his mind. "Are you sure about this?"
Ste nodded. "I need to," he said, trying to explain, "for Brendan."
Simon's eyes seemed to glisten in the light from the last remaining gas lamp. "You'd risk your life for him?" he asked.
"I'd die for him," Ste replied, more easily than he thought possible.
Simon nodded, his gaze seeming to drop, but Ste didn't get to follow the emotions long as Simon turned on his heel to extinguish the last of the lamps. The darkness filled the room too quickly, leaving Ste blind until his eyes got to it. Simon must have recovered more quickly, because Ste was barely able to make out the shadow when Simon was already half way out of the door and into the dark alleyway beyond. Ste followed, groping for the steps so not to fall.
The night was black. Rain fell and splashed on the pavements, and the moon could be seen just faintly through a blanket of clouds. The sounds of horses and dogs, inane noises of everyday living, could still be heard, but quietly, like through glass. Simon was fidgety, He was striding along the pavement, but his hands kept moving, from resting in his pockets, to swinging by his sides to fidgeting with his jacket. It wasn't helping Ste feel less nervous or more prepared.
Far too soon, they arrived at a building. It was large and cavernous. "This is it," Simon whispered, "friendly place, isn't it?"
Friendly was the opposite of this place. It looked cold, impersonal and inhospitable, a great ghoul of a building. Ste was beginning to feel detached from everything around him. Simon's presence, the task ahead of him; it could all be happening to somebody else. His hands found the knife in his pocket, and gripped the handle.
"You can back out, you know." Simon was still by his side, still there, still supporting. Ste shook his head. He couldn't back out. If he did, they'd be looking over their shoulders for the rest of their lives.
"I'm ready," he replied, quietly.
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