AN: The chapter sequence for this fic doesn't follow a linear timeline. This one's set before the first one, hopefully it's not too confusing.

Casey was ready for a fight, and with Heath he was sure he'd get one. He was pissed off at everyone at the moment, Brax for lying to him, Kyle for not really being his brother, his mum for being a tramp, Josh for being a brother he didn't want, Andy for being a jerk he'd never be rid of, and Heath, for not caring enough about their severed bond to even bother calling. Of all of them, Heath was the one he could stomach the thought of being anywhere near, and Heath was the one who would give him what he wanted. A release, somewhere to aim all this pent up rage and hurt; he was someone who would yell back. Anyway, why hadn't he called? Why hadn't Heath thought he was worth even that?

Casey burst into the flat, adrenaline surging, more than ready to brawl this out if they had to. His eyes did a quick sweep of the room, no Heath, or at least no Heath at eye level. His gaze dropped to the kitchen floor, to a sight he was wholly unprepared for, and one that froze his heart with fear.

"Heath, what is it? What's happened?" Casey dropped to the ground beside his brother, who looked broken beyond repair. Heath sat with his legs drawn up, arms wrapped around his knees, face hidden from view. Casey reached out and rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder, "c'mon Heath, talk to me." Slowly Heath lifted his head and turned his face towards Casey, a face wet with tears. Only once before had Casey seen him cry. Back when Rocco... He felt sick at the thought of what could've happened to make Heath do so this time. "What happened?" Casey asked shakily, dreading what the answer might be.

"Harley...I, I'll never see him again." Oh God, not again. This would kill Heath. What had happened to Casey's nephew?

"Where is he?" Casey asked, barely able to push the words out his mouth.

"Over there," Heath said, pointing towards the cot. Casey got up quickly and crossed the room, a simple task that seemed to take forever as terrible images of what he might find flashed through his mind. He peeked over the edge of the cot to see Harley, happy and healthy and looking up at him with something akin to puzzlement. Casey sighed with relief and couldn't help but smile down at the baby who was looking up in a way that suggested he couldn't understand what all the fuss was about. Casey turned back towards Heath, who had hauled himself up and was coming over to the cot. He stood by Casey's side and they both looked down at the baby as Heath spoke.

"Bianca can't handle it, I'm taking him back to Melbourne today, to Jess's mum. You think she's ever gonna give him up once she decides she's raising him?" The rage that had subsided, built once again, filling Casey with determined purpose. "He's just a little kid, why can't she love him?" Because she's a bitch, that's why. But telling Heath so right now probably wouldn't help.

"I think some of Harley's things are next door, I'll go get them." Casey all but ran for the house, and Heath was too distracted to realise that none of Harley's stuff would be in the main house. Casey crammed as many of his belongings into his duffle bag as he could. If he had his way he'd never come back here again.

Heath was loading the ute by the time Casey came back. Heath saw him approaching and saw the bag.

"That's not Harley's."

"No, it's not." Casey flung his bag in the back, Heath didn't argue. "You got all Harley's stuff?"

"Yep."

"You got Harley?" Casey teased, hoping to lighten the mood.

"Yep," Heath returned with a tentative smile. It was a start.

"Good." Casey climbed into the passenger's seat, finally feeling once again, like he was on the right track.