Chapter Thirty Nine

Driving back into the village filled Brendan with a familiar feeling of dread. Steven was still and quiet beside him, forehead resting against his window. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. They were supposed to return triumphant, united. Brendan felt cold at the thought of Steven being apart from him, physically and emotionally. He reached across to touch his arm, tentative and uncertain. Steven started at the touch but then immediately relaxed, offering Brendan a small smile.

"Guess we're both a bit jumpy, huh?"

Brendan nodded, pulling up beside the curb and turning the engine off. "We don't have to do this, Steven. Just say the word and I'll start this car up again and we'll be gone, never have to look back."

Steven shook his head at Brendan's words, unbuckling himself. "I can't just run from this, you know that."

"I get it, Steven. Ye know I do." Brendan rubbed his forehead, agitation pulling at him. "But-"

"No," Steven said, cutting him off. "Come on."

Brendan sighed, letting himself out of the car while Steven did the same. It was a short walk to the flat, one met with silence. Brendan couldn't work out what Steven was thinking and it frustrated him immensely. He would do anything to be inside his head right now, to know what he was planning.

Steven glanced up at him, catching Brendan looking. He glanced away before turning back, smiling coyly.

"What?"

"What?" Brendan repeated, eyes still boring into him.

"You look a bit…" Steven gestured absently with his hands. "Intense." He finished.

"Is this not my normal look?"

"It's hardly normal."

"Right." Brendan forced himself to look away. He pushed his hands into his pockets.

"Don't be like that."

"Like what?"

"You," Steven said vaguely, sounding exasperated.

"Don't be me? What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. I just meant don't be so worried, yeah?"

Brendan rolled his eyes. "Alright, Steven. All better now. How does that suit ye?"

"Don't take the piss."

Brendan cursed under his breath, leaning against the door while Steven unlocked it.

"What am I supposed to do, hm?" Brendan asked, not really expecting an answer.

"You're supposed to trust me, right? I can handle this."

"Ye don't have to handle it, I'm here."

"You might be my husband, Brendan but I can still fight my own battles," Steven hissed, pushing his way inside.

Brendan followed him, still rattled. "I just want to protect ye, what's wrong with that?"

"What's wrong with it? I know how far you'd go to protect me, don't I?"

"And that's a problem? You're still alive aren't ye?"

"That's not the point though is it!" Steven whirled on him, the door slamming shut behind them. "You can't keep doing this."

"Doing what?"

"Protecting me! Look what happened with Danny, with Walker."

"What about them?" Brendan's hair on the back of his neck prickled, not liking the direction of this conversation.

"I know you didn't get sent down for them but you could have! What if Terry pushes you too far and, you know…" Steven bit down on his lip, eyes wide and frightened. "I can't lose you again."

Brendan's anger subsided, replaced instead with guilt. He'd be lying if the thought of ending Terry for good hadn't crossed his mind. But while it would rid them of one problem, Steven was right in considering the risks. Brendan was only now thinking of the consequences, so wrapped up he'd been in wanting to keep Steven safe. That was half the problem with him after all; act now, think later.

"It won't happen," He said, voice soft now. "I promise ye."

"Don't make promises you can't keep," Steven accused, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I can keep it." Brendan pressed, stepping closer to him and opening his arms. "Trust me, Steven."

Steven hesitated for a moment before allowing himself to be held in Brendan's arms. When he could feel his warmth and body against him, Brendan could almost forget that he was at risk and the feeling calmed him momentarily. He wished now more than ever that it was just the two of them with no dangerous forces from the outside world able to penetrate them.

Of course it was fruitless and within minutes Brendan heard the sound of a key turning in the lock, the inevitability of their situation weighing heavily on him once more.

Samuel slammed the door heavily to announce his presence, Steven only pulling away from Brendan slightly to accommodate him. His eyes swept over the two of them immediately, that same level of fear and indecision in his gaze that Brendan understood only too well.

"Dad," Steven said weakly, hand resting protectively on Brendan's arm.

"Steven," Samuel replied, stepping further into the light. He looked exhausted, drawn and pale. He smiled at the sight of Steven, arms raised a little as if to embrace him. Steven shrank further into Brendan's arms, the rejection clear to everyone in the room. Samuel bowed his head, steadying himself to continue. "I'm glad you came back," He said, moving towards the kitchen to put the kettle on.

"How could we not?" Steven answered steadily, taking himself out of Brendan's embrace to follow his father.

"I wasn't sure you would," Samuel said, glancing quickly at Brendan.

"He insisted," Brendan said. "He knows about Terry."

Samuel's eyes flashed angrily. "Who told you?"

"No one told me," Brendan said, straightening. Steven gaped at him, about to correct Brendan's lie. Brendan shook his head minutely, silencing him.

"Then how-"

"It's not important," Steven interjected. "What's important is why you didn't tell me."

Samuel's face dropped guiltily. "I was scared."

"Of Terry?" Steven asked sceptically.

"No." Samuel shook his head. "I thought you wouldn't come home if you knew."

Steven glanced briefly at Brendan. "I still had a right to know."

"I know that." Samuel sighed. "That's why I contacted Brendan. I thought if I could tell you face to face it would be easier and we could consider our options."

"Options?" Steven asked blankly. "What do you mean?"

Samuel looked to Brendan. "I was hoping you had some thoughts on that."

"Me?" Brendan scoffed incredulously.

Samuel, shuffling awkwardly from one foot to the other, had the good sense to look ashamed.

"I know we didn't end things on the best of terms," He began, looking determinedly at Steven. "But this is different."

"Different how?" Steven cut in, frowning deeply.

"Could you give us a minute, Steven?" Samuel asked, not looking at him anymore.

Brendan's gaze flitted to the ceiling. Good luck he thought with a wry smile.

"You what?" Steven exploded angrily.

"I'd like to speak to Brendan on my own for a minute," Samuel said calmly.

"What for?" Steven asked.

Samuel sighed, fixing Brendan with an imploring look. "Brendan?"

Brendan shrugged, almost enjoying himself despite the gnawing sense of anxiety tearing away at him.

"Fine." Samuel deflated. "We need to figure out how to keep you safe, Steven."

Brendan took note at that; the hairs at the back of his neck prickling. "What did ye have in mind?"

"That's why I wanted your advice," Samuel began, looking relieved. "I can't protect him by myself; it's not as though I can be by his side all the time."

"I'm not a kid," Steven protested.

"I'm not trying to treat you like one, Steven. I'm just concerned about what could happen." Samuel explained wearily.

"Could happen? The worst already has, why sugar coat it?"

"Steven," Brendan said softly, attempting to reach out to him.

"No, Brendan. Neither of you were around when he was throwing me across the room; don't start acting like you know better than me when it comes to Terry."

"I haven't said a word, Steven." Brendan pointed out, keeping his voice level and quiet.

"I know what you're thinking though," Steven retorted.

"Mind reader now are ye?"

Steven glared at him. "You wanted me to get on the nearest plane a few hours ago!"

"What?" Samuel cut in. Brendan couldn't tell from his expression whether he was horrified that Brendan had suggested it or that he hadn't gone through with it.

"A momentary panic," Brendan murmured, not entirely convincing himself. If he had half a chance he'd bundle Steven off right now and never look back.

"Well perhaps something less hasty…" Samuel conceded, glancing between the two of them warily.

Steven sat down abruptly, head in his hands.

"What's he even doing here anyway?"

"He didn't say," Samuel said, sitting beside him. "How did you leave things? When you last saw him I mean."

Steven ran his fingers agitatedly through his hair. "Not great, but it was years ago. Before I even met Brendan." Steven looked up at him then; Brendan reading his thoughts as though they were his own: it was difficult to imagine a time when they hadn't known each other.

"So you have no idea if he was in contact with Pauline?" Samuel pressed, leaning forwards.

Brendan saw Steven shiver a little at the name, making him frown. "No idea, why?"

"The mention of her seemed to evoke a strong reaction in him still," Samuel explained. "Perhaps they were in touch before she died? At her funeral-"

Steven stood abruptly. "I don't wanna talk about this."

Samuel faltered, looking both confused and apologetic. "What's the matter?"

"I told you, I don't wanna talk about it."

Steven wrapped his arms around himself protectively, staring at the floor. Brendan daren't approach him when he was like this.

"I know it's painful to talk about but the more we know about Terry's intentions, the better," Samuel continued reasonably. Brendan could feel Steven building like a pressure point.

"You don't get it," He said, temper rising.

"I was only-"

"WELL DON'T!" Steven shouted, angrily knocking several picture frames off the side. His breaths came out in short gasps, body trembling.

"Steven," Brendan said firmly. He didn't touch him; knew better than that from years of anger management. He watched as Steven slowly gained control of himself once more; breathing evening out, posture relaxing. "Okay?" He asked quietly, stepping closer.

Steven nodded, unable to even muster a small smile.

"Maybe you should get some rest," Samuel suggested, his expression unreadable.

"It's early," Steven muttered, not looking at either of them.

"Still." Samuel glanced at Brendan.

"Why don't ye have a lie down, Steven?" Brendan said quietly. Steven stiffened a little but moved towards the bedroom regardless without saying another word.

When the door was securely shut behind him, Brendan sat down heavily on the sofa.

"There's something he's not telling us," Samuel said abruptly.

Brendan said nothing, rubbing tiredly at his eyes.

"Brendan?" Samuel pressed, agitation rising in his voice.

"What do ye want me to say?" Brendan kept his head bent, eyes closed.

"He listens to you. If he knows something that might help us with Terry-"

"Then he'd say," Brendan cut him off. "Have a bit of faith in him, will ye?"

"You think I don't?"

"Sounds that way." Brendan stood up, squaring his shoulders.

"Where are you going?" Samuel asked, watching as Brendan flung his jacket on.

"I can't just sit here and do nothing. If Terry's back I'm going to find him."

"And do what?" Samuel blocked his path.

"Have a chat," Brendan said through gritted teeth. "What do ye think?"

"You can't do that," Samuel said quickly.

"Isn't that what ye want? I don't suppose ye want competition for Daddy of the year," Brendan said dryly.

"If you get arrested again how do you think Steven will feel?" Samuel pointed out.

Brendan paused, the realisation hitting him like a tonne of bricks. "It wouldn't come to that," He said with more certainty than he felt.

"You think so? I'm not sure you'd be lucky enough to get a manslaughter charge again."

"Lucky? Really?" Brendan scoffed, but made no move to advance.

"Think about it, Brendan. We need to be clever about this."

"What did ye have in mind?" Brendan asked eventually, stepping back.

Samuel breathed a sigh of relief. "Terry's not the type to play things safe; he'll manipulate the situation to his advantage, take us unawares."

"Alright," Brendan said, frowning.

"But if we stick together, we can outsmart him."

"I think I could outsmart him on my own," Brendan said.

"You don't have to though, and it's not as if Terry would be expecting us to work together."

"Ye reckon he's done his homework then?" Brendan shifted a little on his feet.

"Course he has. It can't be a coincidence that he's chosen now to return when you're here too."

"But ye said he wants to talk to Steven, so what does it matter if I'm here or not?"

"You don't think he's got a score to settle with you? After what happened inside?"

"Comes with the territory." Brendan shrugged. "But I'll keep it in mind."

"So we have an understanding then?" Samuel held out his hand, looking earnest and somewhat desperate.

"This isn't some scheme to split us up is it?" Brendan asked, naturally suspicious.

Samuel lowered his hand. "You have my word; I won't interfere anymore. He's my son, Brendan. I only want-"

"The best for him," Brendan finished, taking Samuel's hand.

A crash sounded from Steven's room, making the two men stiffen in alarm.

"Terry?"

Brendan shook his head, alert and primed for a fight regardless. He hesitantly approached the door, heart pounding against his ribcage. Unceremoniously, he flung the door open, Samuel two steps behind him.

"Steven?" He exclaimed, praying that his eyes were deceiving him and the room wasn't empty. "Steven!" He shouted, feeling his chest tighten painfully.

"Brendan…" Samuel hissed, rushing to the side of the room. "The window."

Sure enough, the window was wide open. Around it some of Steven's belongings lay scattered on the floor from where he must have knocked them over in his climb to the windowsill.

"Fuck sake, Steven," Brendan muttered under his breath. "Come on, he can't have gotten far."

"Where's he even going? What's he playing at?"

"What do ye think? He's taking control, taking the power back." Brendan's throat constricted on the words, already half-way to the front door.

"Surely he knows this is what Terry wants!" Samuel exclaimed, slamming the door shut after them.

"Do ye think he sees it that way?" Brendan strode forwards, telling himself that he was quicker than Steven and logically they would catch up with him. The traitorous part of his mind however informed him that Steven would know this and as a result would cover his tracks. Sneaky little bastard.

"Where would he go? Mitzeee's?"

"Too obvious," Brendan shook his head. "He'll go where he thinks I won't follow."

"Where?"

Brendan stopped, causing Samuel to barrel straight into him. "I know where he'd go."

"What? How?" Samuel was clearly frustrated that Brendan wasn't being more forthcoming but there wasn't time to catch him up.

"Come on!" Brendan headed off again, Samuel panting along behind him.

Xxx

Ste hated cemeteries. He hated the stillness in the air and the stench of rotting flowers. He hated seeing elderly people attempting to walk across the unsteady ground, mourners coming to pay their respects and most of all, the graves of children with their teddy bears.

He didn't visit his mum's grave often. He sometimes felt as though he didn't have a right to, considering what he'd done. He knelt in the mud, hardly caring that his trousers would be filthy afterwards. There were no fresh flowers here like some of the other graves but Ste wasn't surprised by that; it wasn't as though Pauline had any friends or family. There hadn't been anyone around to help them when Terry had beaten them black and blue. Ste wasn't sure if it would have made a difference anyway. Terry was an unstoppable force. There was no reasoning with a man like that.

"He's back, Mum," Ste whispered, wiping his tears on the back of his sleeve. "And you aren't here to protect me. Not that you ever did." He added bitterly.

A rustling of leaves behind him caused him to turn sharply, breathing out when he saw Brendan approaching him. Of course Brendan had figured it out. Brendan knew him best after all. It made Ste smile a little in spite of the situation. Brendan smiled in return, reassured enough to come closer.

"Steven? Everything okay?" Brendan held his hands out as though afraid to startle him.

"Where's dad?"

"He's just coming; not in as good shape as me." Brendan grinned, close enough now to sit beside him and wrap an arm around his shoulders. "Why did ye run away?" He asked gently, head bent close.

"I can't do it anymore, Bren," Ste choked out. "I can't lie."

"What do ye mean?"

Ste sniffed, wiping his nose on the back of his hand. "I killed her. I did it." He whispered, looking up at Brendan with wide, watery eyes.

"Ye killed her?" Brendan looked at the grave as though needing the confirmation.

"She asked me to." Ste began, feeling the pressure ease a little. "She told me she loved me."

"Steven," Brendan pulled him in closer, arms wrapped around him as though to block out everything else. "I wish I'd been here."

"Me too." Ste laughed a little breathlessly. "You'd have done it for me."

"Yes," Brendan said without a moment's hesitation.

"I was kidding," Ste said, not entirely sure he had been.

"I wasn't," Brendan said quietly, the tips of his fingers brushing against Ste's wet cheek.

"Steven? Brendan?" Sam had finally caught up, looking out of breath. "What's going on?"

"It's alright, Samuel. I've got him." A look passed between them, one Ste couldn't work out. It wasn't hostile, that was all he could say about it.

Sam knelt beside them, resting his hand tentatively on Ste's shoulder. "Why did you come here, son?"

"It felt like the right thing to do, with him back." Ste explained, exchanging a look with Brendan.

Sam nodded stiffly, sitting beside them and keeping his hand on Ste's shoulder.

"This is cosy," A voice sounded from behind them. Ste felt Brendan tense against him. Ste turned around enough to see Terry holding a bunch of flowers and wearing his familiar scowl.

Ste, trapped between the two men, saw no more than that before Sam got to his feet, fists clenched.

"You have no right to be here."

Terry laughed. "And you do I suppose? You only knew her for five minutes."

"I knew her long enough to get her pregnant," Sam pointed out, grip tightening on Ste's shoulder.

Terry's laughter faded. "Is that right?"

"More than you ever managed."

"You think she wanted him? Almost got rid until I told her not to."

"Why would you do that?" Ste finally spoke up, turning a little out of Brendan's embrace.

"He speaks!" Terry said triumphantly. "Don't worry, son. It wasn't anything personal. I reminded her of the benefits we'd get from raising you. Little did I know how much trouble you'd be. Wasn't worth it in the end."

Brendan stood then, blocking Ste from view.

"Ah, Brendan! Nice to see you again."

"Can't say the same, Terrance," Brendan said darkly.

"I must admit, it is quite awkward to meet you all here. Any particular reason for this little family outing?"

"I'm here to visit Mum." Ste stood up too, Brendan immediately placing himself in front of him.

Terry's lip curled nastily. "And what makes you think she'd want to see you?"

Ste straightened. "I was the last person to see her before she died. She was sorry in the end."

"Sorry?" Terry scoffed angrily. "What for? She wasted the best years of her life on you!"

"I could say the same about you," Ste retorted darkly.

Terry looked as though he was able to start forwards until Brendan took a step towards him.

"Not in prison now, Terrance. No best behaviour anymore."

"You think I'm scared of you?" Terry asked, eyes blazing.

"Why else would ye come back here?"

"I'm here to see my son," Terry said, voice dangerously low.

"I'm not your son though am I!" Ste shouted, feeling his skin prickle uncomfortably.

"Your name says different," Terry said, his words coming out thick and fast. "You'll always be a Hay, boy."

Ste laughed, feeling almost hysterical. He was dangerous like this, loose and on the edge. The words spilled out of his mouth before he had time to consider their impact.

"But I'm not a Hay anymore! I'm a Brady now."