The next day proves to be more difficult than the first. I pass a restless night, my mind a mixture of jumbled images that I can't place. I thrash in my hospital bed, almost knocking objects off the adjoining table. Several times a doctor or a nurse has to come in to calm me down. I murmur incoherently at them, terrified because I have no idea where I am or what I'm doing here. By early morning, they've called my sister back in, most likely in the hopes of relaxing my troubled mind.

"Brendan?" She peeks around the door cautiously. I wave for her to come inside. "How you feeling?"

I shrug, turning my face away from her.

"They told me you didn't sleep so well."

I glance briefly at her. "That right?" I can't help but sound bitter.

"You have to let them help you, Bren," she says softly, sitting in the chair beside my bed.

"I can't," I say through gritted teeth, feeling my rage bubble to the surface.

"Why?" She asks, still cautious.

"I don't belong here. I'm not sick." I glance warily at the other beds near mine. I'm not in a private room anymore; instead I'm with the rest of the 'crazies'. I grind my teeth, aggravated. "You have to get me out of here."

When she doesn't respond, I finally look at her. Her face is very pale, her eyes bloodshot. She looks as though she hasn't slept either. I suddenly feel intensely guilty.

"Please," I beg, reaching out to grasp her hand.

"I don't know if they'll let you go yet," Cheryl answers carefully.

"You can ask though, can't you?" I squeeze her hand.

She bites her lip anxiously. "I don't live in the area though, Bren. Where would you stay?"

"You don't?" I frown, confused. "Ireland?" I eventually make the connection.

She nods, looking apologetic. "We're staying in a hotel right now. We haven't decided what to do yet."

"We?"

Her cheeks flush pink. "Nate and me. We'll have to find somewhere though; who knows how long…" she trails off, blinking profusely.

I process this, struggling to recall something from yesterday. It should be easy; new memories are forming every minute for me and there aren't any old ones to cloud them. Still, I struggle.

"They called you Miss Brady," I say uncertainly. She looks at me blankly. "You aren't married then?"

"Oh." She smiles and it lights up her pale face. "We wanted to wait until-" she cuts off, the smile fading. "Until you were out," she finishes quietly.

"He's a good guy?" I ask, feeling strangely protective.

"He is. You like him."

I raise my eyebrows at her. "You could just be saying that."

She grins a little. "Would I do that?"

"I don't know, would you?" I grin back at her, feeling a little more relaxed. Maybe the doctors are onto something. "Where's Steven?" I ask suddenly, looking behind her as though he's going to materialise out of thin air.

She tilts her head to one side. "Ste? Have you seen him?"

I focus for a moment. "Yes, he came by last night." I start to doubt myself as I say the words. I remember dreaming of him, was his visit all a dream too?

"That doesn't surprise me," Cheryl says, smiling knowingly.

"Oh yeah?" I stare at her face, trying to read her expression.

"What happened, when you saw him?" She asks curiously.

I should be the one asking the questions, not her. I sigh, relenting.

"He thought I remembered him at first."

Her eyebrows pinch together, causing a crease. "He did?" Her voice is soft but I can hear the tremor in it. She must care about him too.

"I only said hello." I shrug helplessly.

"How did you say it?" She asks, almost accusingly.

I blink at her, perplexed. "I just said "hello""

"Like that?" She pushes.

"Well, yeah."

"Were you feeling particularly grumpy?"

"What?"

She laughs a little, wiping her eyes with her hand. "Oh, Ste. Bless his heart."

I feel a sudden thrill in my body and push myself up with my elbows. Her familiarity of him is both frustrating and intriguing. "What's he like?" I ask, unable to mask the desperation in my voice.

It's clear that I've taken her off guard. "Ste? He's… well, he's Ste."

I wait for her to continue. I bite the inside of my cheek with the impatience from her indecision.

She sighs. "He's difficult to describe," she says slowly, as if considering every word.

"Try," I prompt, alarmed by how tensed I am for her answer.

"I don't know where to begin," she admits sheepishly.

"Where did I meet him?" I ask, making it easier on her.

She relaxes then. "We used to own a nightclub, Chez Chez."

"That's what we called it?" I frown and it makes her smile again.

"That's what I called it. You only came over to England to get a piece of the action."

"Ah." I nod, waiting for her to continue.

"Anyway, it was our opening night and Tony, he ran the local restaurant, was charging us far too much for the food. Ste worked for him and I thought I could cut a corner and get him to do the food, on the cheap." She smiles, her cheeks flushing again. "Cost him his job."

I almost laugh. "And then?"

"We gave him a job." She frowns a little. "Actually, you did. He threatened to expose us."

I laugh, imagining the Steven I met last night doing this. "Quite the charmer then."

Cheryl laughs with me. "Definitely."

"Expose us for what though?"

The doctor enters the ward then to examine me. While he does so, I look pointedly at Cheryl until she eventually speaks up.

"We were wondering, Doctor…" she begins hesitantly. He looks at her curiously, prompting her to continue. "Would it be possible for Brendan to be discharged?"

He straightens up, looking between the two of us. "Does Brendan have somewhere to stay?"

I glance at Cheryl.

"I still need to arrange something. My partner and I have only been here a few days from Ireland…"

The doctor smiles grimly. "Until then I'd have to say no I'm afraid. Brendan needs constant care and attention."

"I'm still here," I grumble, crossing my arms defensively over my chest.

The doctor looks at me apologetically. "Your condition is still unpredictable. Last night proved that undoubtedly."

"But maybe somewhere familiar would help him?" Cheryl suggests. I feel love surging towards her for the suggestion.

The doctor looks doubtful. "Let's give it a few days, see how you are tonight at least."

"The minute I'm alone I get confused," I say quickly before he leaves. I open my mouth to tell him how scared I was last night but for some reason I can't get the words out.

"That's natural. We hope to do more tests tomorrow to determine how best to proceed with your recovery."

"My recovery? How do you expect me to recover in here? Surrounded by people I don't know." I don't add that truthfully, I don't know anyone. He doesn't need to hear that, he knows it already.

"Like I said, give it a few days. There's no benefit in releasing you now before we know how best to proceed with your treatment."

"Treatment? You can't treat this!" I shout, suddenly angry. "There isn't some magic pill to make it all go away. If there is, please, I'm all for it."

"It's best not to get yourself worked up, Mr Brady."

"Don't call me that!" I snarl.

"Brendan-"

"I don't know who that is!" I clutch my head, fingernails digging into my scalp. "I don't know, I don't know."

"Bren," Cheryl's voice cuts through me, pleading and agonised. "Please calm down."

I breathe unevenly through my nose. "I need… I need…" I gasp, trying to catch my breath.

Cheryl hands me a glass of water hastily. Her hand hesitates over my arm, deliberating whether it's safe to touch me. Safe? Where did that thought come from? Surely I'm not, have never been, dangerous?

The thought sobers me. I take several gulps of water, letting the cool liquid pool in my stomach. My muscles unclench and I collapse against the pillows, exhausted.

"It might be best to give your brother some rest." The doctor glances at Cheryl, gesturing that she should follow him out of the ward.

When they're out of sight, I close my eyes. It takes a while for my breathing to even out. I feel sleep pulling at me, despite the buzz of voices around me. I couldn't have slept much at all last night.

I wake later, feeling groggy and disoriented. It's still light outside. The ward is quieter; visiting hours are over. I feel a sudden hope pull at me. As if on cue, he appears.

He's bolder this time, striding across the ward purposefully to my bed. He sits on the edge of it, his eyes not leaving my face.

"Took me a while to find you," he says. I notice he's trembling a little. "When I couldn't find you in your old room I thought-" he cuts himself off, closing his eyes as if to ward off the memory. "But then I heard some doctor mention your name and I figured out where you'd be. Sorry, I should let you say something." He breathes out but before I can open my mouth, he continues. "They said you were upset earlier. Are you alright now? Do you need me to leave?"

"I'm fine," I say, my voice notably croaky.

"Good." He breathes out again in relief. "I thought the worst you know. I thought to myself, well, they don't know how to calm you down when you're upset, do they? But then I thought, do I know? 'Cause you were angry a lot of the time when we were together and it wasn't always…" he trails off, seeing the alarmed expression on my face no doubt. "I'm talking too much, aren't I?" He laughs and it's the most ridiculous sound I've heard so far.

"No it's… oddly comforting," I respond, clearing my throat. "We were together?" I ask quickly before he can say anything else. It was a fairly obvious assumption but hearing it confirmed is something else entirely.

His mouth opens and closes almost comically. Suddenly he's speechless.

"Steven?" I prompt. It feels strangely pleasant to say his name. He appears to have the same reaction, the sound of his own name seemingly having a kind of spell over him.

"Yeah," he answers hoarsely. "We were together."

I nod, allowing this to sink in. "You said I got angry a lot?" I feel almost reluctant to ask but I have to know.

He baulks visibly and doesn't say anything for a long time. It's almost as though he's having an internal debate with himself.

"You can tell me anything," I say, surprised how true the words are. "I won't get mad, I think." I laugh nervously.

His smile is tight when he finally speaks again. "We had some… issues."

"What kind of issues?" I ask warily.

He clears his throat, steeling himself. "You used to hit me."

I allow this to sink in. It's difficult to feel much from it; I have no idea what kind of man I was, or am. I only feel the stirrings of regret. It doesn't even enter my mind to disbelieve him.

"I don't know what to say," I say honestly.

"You don't have to say anything," Steven says quietly. "Cheryl wasn't sure how much I should tell you, about us. But I figured you wouldn't want me to lie to you, no matter what."

I nod, hoping that what he's saying about me is true, the wanting the truth part at least.

"You spoke to her?"

"Yeah, earlier." He shifts uncomfortably on the bed. "She said you were asking after me?"

"I was, yeah." I look up at him. "You didn't come during visiting hours."

He smiles sheepishly. "Took me a while to work up the courage to come here."

I cringe a little. "You're scared of me?" I can hardly blame him, after what he's just told me.

"Of course not." He shifts closer as if to prove his point. "I wasn't scared of you then either."

"Yeah?" I sound sceptical.

"It's hard to explain."

"Try me."

He sighs, looking down at his fingernails. "Me and you, it wasn't always easy."

I nod. I'd gathered that much already.

"You couldn't accept being gay for a long time. When you hit me, it wasn't really about me. You couldn't deal with what you were. I didn't always understand at the time but…" he trails off, looking suddenly pensive. "When we finally did get it right, it was…" his mouth gapes as he struggles to find the right words.

"Beautiful?" I murmur, wondering why that word pops into my head.

"Yeah," he says softly. "We were happy. It was all I ever wanted. If it wasn't for-" he presses his lips together then, hesitant to continue. "Sorry. This is probably a bit much all at once."

Reluctantly, I nod.

"I should go."

"No," I say quickly, reaching out for him and finding his hand. "Don't go. Not yet. Please."

He looks straight into my eyes and I feel… something. He doesn't draw his gaze away as he nods.

"Okay," he agrees. To ease the tension, he laughs a little, staring down at our hands. "You weren't really the hand holding type you know."

"Maybe I can change," I say, and I wonder if it's the first time I've said such words.

"You did, you have," Steven says, his voice distorting with emotion. "I'm sorry." He jumps up, leaving my hand cold and empty. "I need more time."

I stare at him helplessly. "I don't know what to do, how to make this easier. I don't remember him. I wish I could, or maybe not…" I think back on all he's told me and wonder if I truly want to know this man, this Brendan.

His eyes soften with my words and he takes a step closer to me once more. "Don't say that. It wasn't always bad. A lot of the time it was good."

"You're just saying that to make me feel better," I accuse.

"No! Honest!" He sits back down again, not as close this time.

I look up at him hopefully. "Will you tell me about him? Maybe something good?" I wince at how vulnerable I sound but it's impossible to feel any different right now. My entire existence is in his hands.

Steven's face changes as he thinks. It takes him a while to respond and I grow anxious. Maybe there isn't anything good to tell after all…

"Remember yesterday, when you said I wasn't stupid?"

I think hard, trying to grasp the memory he's referring to. Strangely it comes a lot easier than some of the others. Perhaps that's the effect he has.

"I remember."

Steven smiles, continuing. "You used to say that a lot, when we got together proper. I'm not really that smart." He flushes. "But you'd make me feel dead capable. More than anyone else ever did."

I feel a strange twist in my stomach at the anyone else but I push it aside.

"No one really believed in me, except my family." I stare at him quizzically but he shakes his head. Another conversation to be had later. "You made me feel like I could do anything, be anything. If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't even know who I was."

I bow my head, allowing his words to sink in properly. "Not all bad then, huh?"

He smiles brightly and I'm struck by how beautiful he is. I feel an overwhelming desire to keep him near to me at all times. It comes, unbidden, like a sudden bolt of lightning to the heart. Instead of incapacitating me, it revives me.

"Will you stay with me tonight?" I ask, my words coming out in a rush.

He blinks, startled by the strange request.

"It might help, having someone familiar near." I watch his face for his reaction. "Well, not exactly familiar but-"

"I get it," Steven cuts me off. "I guess I could, as long as they don't chuck me out."

"They wouldn't dare," I promise, flashing him a wide grin.

"It's still light out though," Steven tells me.

"We can talk a bit longer, if you want."

Steven considers this, eventually nodding his assent. "I'd like that."

I feel some of the tension in my stomach uncoil at the thought of not spending another night alone. No, not alone. Without him. He begins talking again, about inane things this time, and I lay back to listen, comforted, warmed. Calm.