"Inside. Now."
"No."
"Steven. I'm not asking you."
Ste looks at him, expecting to see anger. He doesn't like it, but he can deal with it. What he can't deal with is the shock of seeing tears shining in Brendan's eyes. Ste looks at the floor, unable to meet his gaze, and follows him reluctantly into the empty cell.
No one seems to notice that they've disappeared. The commotion of moments before is shut out when the door closes, but Ste can't get it out of his mind; the way that Walker had looked when he'd been dragged away. There wasn't fear in his eyes, not a hint of it. They were bright and alive and determined. He hadn't looked away from the two of them until he'd had to, wearing a fixed smile that reminded Ste of a mannequin: it was unnatural, he realises now. Like it didn't belong there.
"What the fuck was that back there?"
Ste smooths his hands over his face, shivering at how cold his touch feels.
"Turning yourself in like that? Do you ever think at all?"
"Don't call me stupid."
"Did I say that?" Brendan mutters, dismissing his remark.
"That's what you mean though, isn't it?"
"If the shoe fits."
Ste moves towards the door, needs to go back outside, needs to understand what just happened, but Brendan's one step ahead of him, hand against the wood.
"Turning yourself in like that - what if Tony had believed you?"
"And what about you, eh?" He's tired and he's hungry and he's so fucking done with all of this. He's got two days left in here, and he hadn't ever planned to spend them like this, arguing with the person who means the most. Who he's doing all this for.
"You and Tony, and your private little conversation," he continues, voice mocking and vicious.
A flicker of shame crosses Brendan's face; his conversation with Tony clearly wasn't meant to be observed. It makes Ste feel more betrayed, knowing that it intended to be a secret kept from him. Another one to add to all the others.
"Yeah, well." There's a sheepishness to Brendan's tone that's almost childlike. It riles Ste further.
"Yeah, well? Is that all you've got?"
"It's none of your business."
"It's about you, isn't it? Of course it's my business! It's my business if you try and get yourself locked up for another twenty years!"
"I was taking care of things, Steven."
"What happened to Ethan? I thought you were convinced it was him."
"Maybe I changed my mind."
Ste looks at him sceptically. "You?"
"I'm capable of it, aren't I?"
An hour ago Ste would have been desperate for Brendan not to think that Ethan had been responsible, but now - now he can't link Walker to this. Can't make sense of something which is senseless.
"No. No, you wouldn't just..."
"Look, I...I talked to him, and he didn't do it, okay? He's not...he's not like that."
There's a defensive edge that leaves Ste speechless. Something about Brendan's conviction makes him feel like he can't question it further; like he'll never know what happened to make him change his mind.
Before he's aware of Brendan's movements, he feels a hand cupping his chin, making him meet his eyes.
"I'm sorry for what I said. For being..."
"Doesn't matter."
"No, it does. I'm - fuck, I don't know how you put up with me."
"Cos I love you." It feels incredibly simple, deceivingly so. Brendan doesn't seem to think it is; his face lights up like Ste's just given him a gift. "Would you have really lied to Tony for me?" Ste's voice is small; he doesn't want to sound in awe, doesn't want Brendan to think that he's impressed with this: he wouldn't have let him. Would have stopped him before things got that far.
"Yeah."
"That's a hell of a bullet to be taking for me."
"I've been taking bullets for you for months," Brendan says quietly, thumb smoothing over Ste's cheek. He leans into the touch, resigning the words to memory. I've been taking bullets for you for months. No one's ever said the things that Brendan has. No one's ever made him feel this special.
"I wish you'd let me take one for you."
"Steven." Brendan's voice is weary, his eyes exhausted. Even his moustache looks like it's drooping at the sides; everything about him speaks of a hidden kind of sadness.
"Just once."
"You have. You do. Everyday."
"No. You've stuck up for me and protected me and -"
"Hurt you and put you in dangerous situations," Brendan finishes, hands leaving Ste's face.
Ste steps closer, doesn't want Brendan to leave him. The urgency to go and find Walker has evaporated.
"Don't say that. Don't ever say that."
"It's true. It's - Jesus, there's been boys before, but..."
"Do you mind if we don't...I don't really want to know," Ste trails off, jaw feeling tight with tension.
"No, I mean - they didn't make me feel like this. I could walk away before, but this...I can't walk away from this. It's you, it's...I should of seen it. I should of realised that Walker would do this for you. Because of you."
Ste frowns, tries to keep pace. "What? Walker?"
"He's in love with you."
Ste laughs shakily, half expects Brendan to do the same, to recognise this as the joke that it is. He stops when Brendan only stares at him, face sober, eyes scanning Ste's face like he's looking for something.
"We are talking about the same person, right? Simon Walker? He can't - he can't be - with me..." Ste can't say the words. "This is just a mistake, all of this. He's probably just winding us up, doing this for a bit of a fun."
"It's a hell of a wind up. Confessing to murders he didn't commit."
"We were gonna do it, weren't we?"
"We had a reason for it. What's his apart from -"
"I don't know," Ste says, sinking down onto the bed. It feels hard against his skin, the mattress digging into him. "But it's not what you think. It can't be."
"Jesus, Steven. Open your eyes - who wouldn't be in love with you?"
"No, that's -" Ste laughs, shaking his head. "You're being daft. This is all some mix up. Someone's trying to frame him."
"You must be the only person in the history of the world whose ever thought that Walker's innocent."
'He's done a lot of bad things, but this - Brendan, the man who got us out of that library...he wouldn't do this."
He regrets mentioning it. Brendan's face creases in pain, and he paces the room like he's trying to escape from the memory.
They need a change of scenery. Everything is stagnant here, and Ste can't think. Walker couldn't have done it, but here, in this cell, with Brendan telling him these things - it seems possible. It all seems possible.
"Let's go."
"Where?" Brendan says, and his voice seems to say there is nowhere.
"Anywhere. Just...let's go."
The world's spinning on his axis; it must be. Ste can feel it - the colours distorting and blending into each other, sound becoming unbearably loud until it seems to cease altogether. Faces swim around him, losing their features until for one terrifying moment he thinks he sees Amy in front of him. She can't be here, she's not safe here, and he screams and begs for it to stop.
He feels someone grabbing his hand, and instinctively knows it's Brendan. Embarrassment floods through him; he's clammy and panicked and he's sure Brendan can feel the sweat trickling off him. He doesn't want him to see him like this, but when Ste tries to pull away, the hand holds him tighter, clinging on without disgust.
"Sit down, Steven." Brendan's voice is full of authority, and Ste drinks it up, needs it more than anything right now. He hears the sound of a chair being scraped back, and he's guided onto it, Brendan kneeling in front of him, his eyes never leaving Ste's face.
"Sorry. I don't what happened," Ste mumbles, his surroundings beginning to become more sharp. He sees that he's in the games room near the pool table, and he let's out a groan when he sees the eyes on him, the other prisoners smirking in his direction, safe to do so when Brendan's back is turned. None of them have shouted out or almost collapsed, and Ste knows what they must think of him.
"Can we go somewhere else?" He tries to rise from the chair, needs to escape from the taunts, but Brendan doesn't move. "What are you doing? Let me -"
"I'll let you go if you can promise me that you can make it to the next room without falling flat on your face." Brendan's voice is controlled, but the prominent vein on his forehead is like a warning sign.
"Course I can." He feels affronted. He may have lost control for a moment, but he's not helpless.
"Go on then." Brendan stands back, eyebrows raised in expectation. Ste can tell he thinks he's going to fail, and it makes him more determined to try.
"Fine." He elongates the word, makes it sound like he's cursing, and rises to his feet and begins to walk.
He manages a few steps before he feels the world begin to shake again; an earthquake in his head.
His vision blurred, he holds onto the figure in front of him, its bony shoulders doing little to support him.
Awareness begins to sink in, and Ste releases his hold rapidly.
"You alright, mate? You look a bit peaky." The voice sounds falsely concerned.
He feels sick, but it's not enough to stop him forming a scowl.
"I'm fine."
"You don't look it."
Ste reaches behind him, feeling for the warmth of Brendan's hands, imagining the humiliation if he's not there.
Brendan's a solid weight, the heat of his body making the goosebumps from Ste's arms fade. He leans his stomach against Ste's back, and his muscles feel like they're straining to escape from his shirt.
"Run along, Kevin."
Ste doesn't know how Brendan does that - makes it sound like he's talking to dust.
"I was just saying -"
"Thought you'd be more concerned about that boyfriend of yours," Brendan says, voice sounding both bored and icily cutting.
"Walker?" Kevin scrunches his nose up, his face distorted like he's tasted something unpleasant on his tongue. "He's killed someone. Two people."
"Thanks for the memo, kid. Completely slipped my mind."
"It could have been me. I slept in his bed." Kevin shivers, but Ste doesn't buy it. Something about it looks staged, perfected.
"Shame it wasn't."
He doesn't mean it, but it feels good to say. He hates this man, hates him for trying to take away everything from him. Hates him for being in Brendan's bed. Hates him for tempting Brendan, however momentary it was.
"What did you just say?" Kevin's eyes are as big as saucers, and Ste can hear the chuckles and snide remarks from the other men who are slowly abandoning their game of pool, discovering that there's a more exciting form of entertainment.
Skinny takes on skinny. Ste hears them mutter it like a chant.
When the noise suddenly stops, Ste stares around, wondering for a moment if Brendan's said something, warned them off.
Brendan's tensed up behind him, but he doesn't step away, doesn't drop his protective stance.
A group of officers have entered the room, Tony leading them. His eyes scan the surroundings, assessing the situation, and Kevin takes a step back, unclenching his fists. The men return to their game.
"Ste. Brendan. Can I speak to you?"
They sit stiffly in their seats, the clock on the wall ticking loudly. Their chairs are pushed together, but they don't make eye contact. Ste wonders if Brendan's thinking the same as him, remembering their conversation months ago, remembering how Brendan told him that he'd fuck him in here one day. That he'd spread him out on the desk, hitch his t-shirt up and lick him from neck to navel, tasting the sweetness of his skin. How he'd stretch him open with his tongue, Ste's arms leaning against the desk, bum pushed in the air, hair ruffled from Brendan's grip.
Tony's office has never looked the same since.
He's wearing a suit and tie, smarter than his usual attire, and Ste wants to crack a joke, lighten the tension, well this must be serious then, but he's concentrating on regulating his breathing. He'd already had to hold Brendan's hand the entire way to the office so as not to fall, had felt like a child, hadn't even been able to enjoy the knowledge that Brendan was doing something so intimate and didn't seen to give a fuck.
And something tells him not to make a joke. Some sense of respect for Tony which tells him to shut up and listen.
When Tony sits down and faces them, he doesn't waste any time. His first words are a shock.
"What the hell has been going on?"
It's the closest he's ever come to swearing, and Ste reels from it.
'Don't know what you mean, Anthony," Brendan tips back in his chair, the action carefree and contrasting with the atmosphere so acutely.
"First you come to me telling me that you killed Warren and Silas, and then Ste does."
Ste almost laughs at the absurdity. When did his life become this? When did confessing to murders - murders that he didn't even commit - become something that he did?
"Because I did it, Anthony."
"Brendan, shut up!" Ste's eyes are bright with fury, and if he could reach Brendan to kick him then he would.
Tony stares between them, mouth slightly open, not trying to hide his bafflement.
"We know Walker did it." It sounds like a question: explain to me why you're doing this. Why you're confessing when you're innocent.
Ste sees the dip of Brendan's Adam's apple as he swallows, panic beginning to reach his eyes. He doesn't say anything, not this time.
"Ste?" Tony asks, and Ste almost does it; almost attempts to explain what's been going on, but he doesn't know how to begin. Doesn't know if Tony would understand the fucked up need to turn himself in to avoid Brendan being in the firing line.
He shrugs apologetically. "I don't know."
"God. You two." Tony rubs his temples.
"I want to see him."
"What?"
"Walker." Ste's voice shakes, and he looks straight ahead, desperate not to feel Brendan's eyes boring into him. He doesn't want to hurt him, doesn't want to see the jealousy and rejection there. "I want to see him."
"Ste, he's being questioned. Now isn't exactly the right time."
"They'll never be a right time though, will there?" He knows how this will go; Walker will be moved prisons, perhaps somewhere more secure, somewhere where they can deal with monsters like him. That's what he'll be branded: a monster. He'll be locked up for life, will lose the last bit of freedom he had.
This is Ste's last chance.
"Please. Just give me half an hour, tops. I just need to talk to him." Half an hour isn't nearly enough time, not to ask everything he wants, not to find out why Walker's done this. But he can see he's pushing his luck already - not just with Tony but with Brendan. If he only has half an hour then he has a chance of being alone with Walker, of speaking to him without getting his words twisted or muddled.
Tony looks at Brendan.
"Are you okay with this?"
Ste's surprised; maybe Tony's more wise to what's been going on than he'd thought.
"I can speak for myself. Brendan's not my minder."
Brendan's silent for a moment, and Ste still doesn't dare look at him. If he does, he doesn't know if he'll be able to go through with this.
"Whatever you want, Steven." His voice is stoic.
"I'm seeing him on my own." He has to be clear on this, has to make his terms known.
"They'll be an officer there," Tony interrupts, but Ste waves his hand dismissively, knows about all that - doesn't care if there's someone official listening in. He'd expected that.
"Right. Well I'll just be..." Brendan gets to his feet. "If we're done here, Anthony."
"We're done."
Brendan scrapes back his chair, no part of him touching Ste as he leaves.
"I love you." Ste whispers it, doesn't want Tony to hear.
"Yeah. Me too." The door closes behind him, and Ste hopes that it's enough. That Brendan understands that this isn't about Walker. It never has been. Right now, he needs to say goodbye.
"You two..." Tony repeats, shaking his head.
"I know. We're mental." He stands up, holding onto the arm of the chair as a precaution, still unsteady on his feet. "Will you take me there?"
"What?" There's a note of surprise in Tony's voice that Ste didn't expect. Of course it was going to be him.
"I don't want..." He doesn't want to be consumed by cold silences and the detachment from being with an officer, an officer who doesn't know him, whose never given a shit about him. "I don't want it to be anyone else but you."
"Of course. I'm ready when you are."
"Now?" Ste had expected to have to wait an hour or two, to have enough time to prepare himself, to plan what he's going to say.
"He hasn't got much time left, Ste."
"You make it sound like he's dying," Ste says, laughing out of a nervous habit, but it's an effort. His jaw aches.
"It's for his own safety to move. There could be counter attacks."
Ste's about to say that it won't happen, that there's no one who cares enough about Warren and Silas. Walker's more likely to be lauded as a hero than an enemy.
Then he thinks how sad it is; having no one around to miss you, to protect you, to fight for you. He wonders if that sister of Warren's - Katy, was it? - will cry for him. Perhaps she'll be relieved, not having to hold onto someone so destructive.
"I'm ready now."
He gets to his feet, following Tony to the door. For the short amount of time that they're alone in the corridor, Tony puts his hand on the small of Ste's back until he no longer feels like he's going to fall.