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Padraig left the Bed and Breakfast at a run.

When he'd left his Dad's flat at a similar speed earlier that day, he'd been in a state of pure panic. He'd failed his Granddad, his brother was going to beat the crap out of him, and God only knew what his father would do when he found out the whole truth. He'd been panicking about what Dad would do to Ste anyway, when he'd left so angrily, and when he found out it was because of a lie… Paddy didn't dare think.

So he'd run. He hadn't had time to find the leaflet with the address, as he knew that was where Declan was going, but he remembered the name. The driver had made a huge fuss, saying he didn't know every small business in the area, but had called in to find out where it was. Paddy was a bag if nerves before they'd even pulled away. Every moment they spent on the curb was another moment for Declan to find the paper, another chance for Granddad to be discovered. He'd shouted at the driver to get a move on, and he thought he'd actually slowed down.

Granddad had shown him the room at the B & B, so he had run straight up, without thinking. He barely knew what he'd seen before he'd heeded Ste's shout and run out again, as quickly as he'd run in.

He froze on the pavement outside the house, and looked back. Granddad wasn't following. What did that mean? Had he gone back to what he'd been doing before?

"Padraig!" shouted a voice. He saw Cheryl running to him, out of a taxi, and he ran into her arms and clung on for dear life.

"It's OK," she assured him, "it's OK, we can cope with this, OK? No one's gonna hurt you."

She stroked his hair, and held him, letting him feel warm and protected for the first time in so long, but he still couldn't get the image out of his head. He clung to Cheryl and cried, ignoring his brother's scowl, repeatedly looking back at the hotel, waiting for his Granddad to come out angrily, or Ste to arrive, broken and pale, and looking barely older than Declan.

Paddy knew he'd done so much wrong, hurt people so badly. He didn't deserve Cheryl's love and forgiveness. He deserved Declan's glares, the harsh questions he was demanding answers to so angrily.

But Padraig knew what he had to do.

He took Cheryl's hand and led her through the door, back into the bed and breakfast, and up the stairs. His feet seemed heavier the closer he got to that room. The door was closed again, but he couldn't hear the noises, the sickening terrifying noises. Grunts, thuds, quiet pleading.

He'd hoped he would find something different. Or that he'd wake up, back in his own bed in Belfast, with Mam stressed and angry, Dad absent and where Granddad was the fun, gentle and generous old man who brought them treats. But he could never go back to that world now.

He looked away from the door, but opened it for Cheryl to look through. She needed to see.


The painkillers were messing with Ste's head. They were making the world all swirly and sickening. He had been sleeping a lot, most of the time in fact, though he'd tried to be awake and chirpy when the kids came to visit. It was hard going, faking happiness when his world had been stolen from him again.

He may have been over playing the effects of the drugs, but while the doctors thought he was sick enough, they only let in family. That meant to useful things: strictly no police and strictly no Bradys.

He couldn't handle either group right now. He couldn't talk to the police until he knew what Cheryl told them. Finding out what Cheryl told them would involve talking to Cheryl. The same Cheryl who had found him naked, beaten and pleading on the floor. That was not appealing.

Ste shifted in the hospital bed, in his dark thankfully otherwise empty room. It was difficult to get comfy when there wasn't much left that didn't hurt, and your medication was making you sick. At the time he'd covered his head and curled in on himself as the kicks had landed. It hadn't taken very long for Brady to tire of that and to return to his previous intention.

It was probably a good thing that Cheryl had arrived at the moment that she had. It meant that Ste had not actually been raped, which was something to be hugely grateful for already, but also that Cheryl would probably stop telling the world and herself that Ste was a liar, and hopefully wouldn't tell people he was a paedophile either. But it still didn't help him know what to tell the police. If his story didn't match hers, it wouldn't be her labelled a liar. Again.

He wouldn't expect her to tell the whole truth. For one, he would rather never mention Paddy's allegations ever again, and he would rather not put Paddy through all that questioning either. The boy was a victim really. He would never have done what he did without the manipulations of his Granddad. And he wouldn't have been so open to the manipulations if they'd all listened to him in the first place.

So Ste delayed all conversations, except Amy and his kids, whose visits he craved like air. They were the only good thing left.

He didn't know how long Brendan had been there when he finally noticed him, stood beside his bed, watching him patiently.

He almost laughed. "What, you breaking into hospitals now?"

Brendan sniffed, and smirked, "It's not really breaking in, Steven, when ye just walk in. I had to ask more than one nurse for directions, ye know, this place is like a maze."

Ste smiled slightly at the image of Brendan lost. It was oddly endearing. But he didn't speak again, he simply put off the inevitable.

Brendan seemed to be thinking the same way. "I took the boys home. It was a bit early, but… you know. Dec promised to text when they landed and again when they got to the house."

Ste nodded, very gently, trying to avoid the wave of dizziness from the painkillers. Silence fell again, and Ste stared at his hands. He had no clue where to start.

Brendan seemed to.

"Steven, I need you to know, I never really… I never really believed it. Not really… I mean…"

"Yeah," Ste interrupted, "I know."

And he did. They both knew what Brendan, the man who'd cracked Ste's ribs for trying to kiss him at the wrong moment, would have done if he had believed Padraig straight away, and Ste wouldn't have walked away from it. Ste couldn't really blame him for having to ask. Padraig was Brendan's son. It hadn't been so much doubt as a physical reaction in Brendan's body to the idea of anyone doing that to his child. And Ste knew what it was like to not be believed. "I know," Ste repeated, "and I understand."

Brendan seemed to breathe out, as though he was relieved, but Ste hadn't finished.

"There are two people in this world who I will always love more than anything else, who I will always put first, and who I will always love more than you." The words felt harsh as he said them, but they were the truth and so important. "I will always put their happiness before my own, or anyone else's." He looked at Brendan, who was staring at the floor. "And you, Brendan Brady, wouldn't be the man I love, if I didn't know you would do the same."

Brendan paced the room, fidgeting. "I love you, Steven," he said, firmly and honestly.

Ste nodded and sniffed. He knew that, never would doubt it. "But you love Declan and Paddy more" he said. "As it should be."

He could see the glistening in Brendan's eyes as he sniffed too. Then Brendan nodded, just the once, and Ste couldn't hold back the tears. Brendan leant down and kissed him, gently and chastely on the lips, before turning on his heel and marching from the hospital.

Ste cried watching him go.

I promise it's not over yet.