"He's leaving in two days."

He didn't plan to come here. He'd set out to find Lynsey, needed to see a friendly face, and her's was the only one that fit the description, the only one who he was sure wouldn't turn him away.

She was with Douglas. He should of known. The kid had her, and soon he'd have Steven. Brendan wondered how many other people he was going to get on his side; whether cosying up to Cheryl was part of the plan too.

Brendan walked away before she saw him. He knew she'd call him back if she did, and he knew the discomfort of being with Douglas would make him cruel. He didn't want to be that way, not around Lynsey.

But this - this stillness, the way his body's drawn it on itself as he sits in the chair opposite Desmond - this feels worse.

"Steven." It's not getting any easier to say his name in this room. Brendan feels like he should protect it, that he can somehow shield the boy by pretending he doesn't exist to outsiders. But Steven's everywhere, and never more so than in here, with this man. Perhaps he needs it to offset the darkness, his mind desperately fumbling for relief from the thoughts of Seamus hammering against his skull, creating a dull ache that makes him lean his knuckles against his temples.

He wonders what it feels like, for a mind to be free.

"He's going."

"That must be very difficult for you."

Brendan snorts. He feels like his words are being repeated back to him. Is this what therapists are paid for - to state the obvious? It doesn't take a genius to work it out, and he's tempted to get to his feet and shut the door behind him.

He doesn't. He stays, and he doesn't know why.

"It's...yeah..." He mumbles, scratching his neck in what he hopes looks like an absentminded gesture, instead of the truth: he wants to tear himself from his own skin. "There's...there's not going to be anything."

"What do you mean?" Desmond leans forward, and Brendan's unnerved, isn't used to it. He's the second person in Brendan's life who's ever really listened. Whose ever wanted to.

"There's not going to be anything left."

He expects silence, doesn't anticipate Desmond's answer.

"You'll have your sessions."

It feels like a lifeline. One that's in danger of slipping from his grasp.

"Yeah?"

"If you want to continue."

Brendan shuffles in his seat. There's a tissue folded on the head of the bed. He's never noticed it before; has always concentrated on the sheet and the pillows and the solidity of it, its presence, but never on the finer details.

He wonders how he never saw it before. Doesn't know why Desmond puts it there, when he's never going to lie on the bed.

"Brendan?" Desmond's voice is gentle.

Brendan turns back to face him. His eyes sting.

"I only came here because of Steven. It was this, or..." Or I would of lost him.

"Is that why you stayed?" Desmond doesn't sound insulted, or put out. He sounds curious, like he's trying to figure this all out.

Jesus. It's like he -

It's like he cares.

It hits Brendan like a dead weight, and he clears his throat, gives the man eye contact, thinks that he deserves it. He deserves for Brendan not to be a coward.

"I thought it was." He thought it was because of Steven until moments ago. Had thought that he'd never want to step foot inside this office ever again when Steven was released.

Things are changing. His life is changing.

"I could continue." His voice sounds scratched and raw. His hands are shaking, and he doesn't know if it's because of what's going on right now - if it's from the knowledge that Steven's with Walker, and he can't do anything to stop it. The boy could be saying anything. Could be looking for answers. Could be comforting him. Could be touching him -

But something tells Brendan he's not. It's like a whisper building up inside him, and it's quiet but it's getting louder.

He loves you.

He doesn't know who's saying it. It sure as hell doesn't sound like him.

But who else could it be?

"I want to continue." He's speaking louder now, and his eyes are no longer strained from trying not to look at the bed.

If he looks at it, then he looks.

When the session finishes and he leaves the room, he sees that the bed cover is white. It looks clean.

He never noticed that before either.

Tony rests a hand on Ste's shoulder.

"Are you sure you're ready for this?"

"I'm not scared of him."

"I never said -"

"He won't hurt me." Ste's sure of that. Whatever Walker's done - and he's done a lot of fucked up things - he's never tried to hurt him. Not like that.

"Even so, you'll have an officer there the whole time. Walker won't be left alone."

Ste feels a pang of sadness for him. They may be observed by the officers all day and night, but when Ste's with Brendan, there is no one else. He doesn't notice the eyes that may be on him.

Ste wonders if Walker's ever felt like that with anyone in here. If he'll ever know what it's like to be free again.

"Thanks, Tony."

"Of course. No way are we going to leave you alone with a man whose just killed two inmates."

"No, not for that. I mean...for this. All of this. For letting me see him."

He's not sure if he's imagining the way that Tony colours slightly from his words. He squeezes Ste's shoulder, nodding over to the officer who opens the door to the interrogation room.

Ste wets his mouth, trying to gather his courage. He wishes he was wearing something different. A tracksuit and trainers that have seen better days doesn't seem appropriate for this. It's not what you wear when you say goodbye.

The door closes behind him. He doesn't even notice that there's an officer present.

The first thing he registers is that stark contrast in Walker from how he looked in the hallway more than an hour before. His smile's vanished, and his hair looks limp and greasy, shadows gathered under his eyes. Ste doesn't understand it; doesn't know how it's possible for someone to change so much in such a short amount of time.

Ste crosses over to the table, sitting opposite Walker. He's always felt aware of their differences, of how Walker towers above him, but now - now Walker appears shrunken.

"Hi." It's a generic opening statement, but it feels hollow.

"Hello sweetheart."

"Don't," Ste says, closing his eyes. "Don't carry on as normal."

"What else can I do? What else do I really have?"

"No, you're...you're Simon Walker. You don't talk like that. You don't ever talk like that."

"Making it uncomfortable, is it?" Walker leans back in his seat, hands behind his head. He hasn't got a scratch on him - nothing to suggest that he's been in a fight, or had an altercation. "So you don't want me to play pretend, start calling you darling again, humour you, crack a joke. But you don't want me to be serious either. What do you want, Ste? How can I win in this scenario of yours?"

"I'd rather you tell me what happened." He's raised his voice; he wasn't even aware he was doing it, but he sees the officer standing at the door move closer towards him, looking between them warningly. He looks half entertained, half pissed off by this little display.

Ste doesn't smile - has learnt not to with these men, that they aren't his friends, but he tries to neutralise his expression, pretend he feels calm when his skin is hot with anger.

Walker's right: he doesn't know what he wants. No one can win here.

"Did someone set you up?" He begins, speaking softer in the attempt to not be overheard by their company.

"No," Walker says, voice clipped, eyes dark and unblinking.

"Are you taking the fall for someone?"

"No."

"Then..." He trails off, hoping that Walker will fill in the blank spaces, but he makes no attempt to. "What? What happened?"

"Is it so incredibly amazing to consider that I did it? That they got the right guy? They do that sometimes, you know."

Ste looks over his shoulder at the officer, turning back to Walker with panic in his eyes, doesn't understand why he's making no effort to lower his voice.

"I don't care what anyone hears. I'm done."

There's no defeat in it. His voice sounds like marble, and Ste feels suddenly unbearably thirsty. He wishes he could ask for a glass of water, but he doesn't trust it not to be spat in.

"Look, I've left Doug knocked out cold in our cell to see you. So you better start talking."

Walker looks at him in confusion.

"Brendan?"

It takes Ste a moment to understand what he's insinuating.

"No - Brendan didn't touch him! It was me. I...I did it." He flinches at the memory of his fist coming into contact with the smooth, almost fragile feel of Doug's face. It had felt like he'd been hitting a child.

"Why?" There's amusement beneath the surface, as though Ste's finally caught his attention.

"It's a long story. And I can think of a better one. Yours."

"Sorry Ste, it's not bedtime yet. Maybe in a couple of hours."

Ste slams his hand down on the table, surprised when it manages to make Walker jump. It's small and barely detectable, but he sees it. He sees it.

"We might not have a couple of hours."

He sees a shadow beside him, his shoulders tensing as the officer leans down, his breath in Ste's ear.

"One more stunt like that, Hay."

Ste doesn't even know his name. It's always been like that in this place; people know the most personal details of his life - the name of his kids, his address, his offenses, all detailed in a neat little file, and he doesn't know a single thing about the men who'd have made his life hell if it wasn't for Brendan.

"Sorry," he mutters, hates saying it but he needs to keep them sweet. He can't let this stop now, not when he's so close to getting the truth.

When the officer's moved back towards the door, he begins again.

"Simon. Please." Ste's not being fair. His voice is persuasive, begging, his eyes pleading, and he's leaned forward so his foot brushes against Walker's under the table. He's using everything he's got, and he doesn't have a clue if it's enough, but it has to be.

"We've been through a lot." He's not pretending now. Not faking anything. "After everything that's happened, and everything you've done - I deserve it, don't I? The truth."

"Why do you want to know so badly?" Walker moves so that his hands are on the table. He looks less cocky now, less in control.

"Because none of this makes sense. You hurting Warren and Silas - you wouldn't."

"Why? Because I'm that good a person?" The corners of Walker's mouth turn up, a twisted smirk.

"Because you never hated them. Not enough to kill them."

"You don't know anything, Ste." He looks away, and the silence that ensures feels excruciating.

He's going to have to talk about it. He was hoping to avoid it forever, to never mention it, but he sees it now - knows that Walker won't ever open up unless he's pushed.

"Brendan told me..." Ste brings his fingers up to his mouth, chewing his nails and hoping that the action will muffle his words enough so Walker won't hear.

He shouldn't be saying this.

"What?" Walker looks at him sharply.

Does he know? He sounds like he knows.

"He told me that you...you know...love me..." He laughs at his own words, hopes that by doing so Walker will realise that he thinks it's crazy. That he doesn't believe any of this.

"He thinks I killed Warren and Silas out of love for you." The lack of emotion behind his tone is unnerving; Ste tries to make something out, tries to know whether Walker thinks the idea is as impossible as he does, but he's not giving anything away.

"Yeah. That you did it for me...or something..." He shrugs awkwardly, feels apologetic for suggesting it. He's sure that despite his best intentions to be quiet, the officer's heard something. Ste can hear him sniggering in the corner. Bastard.

"That's very romantic."

"Er...yeah..." He doesn't know what else to say.

"Fucked up, but romantic."

"Is it true?"

Walker smiles at him - not his usual smile, all teeth and stretched lips that give him the appearance of a clown performing, but close lipped, eyes soft.

"Brendan's so in love with you that he thinks the entire world must be."

Ste frowns, head to the side. "What are you saying?"

"I'm not in love with you, Ste. I never have been."

"Oh." He can still hear the sniggering. It sounds louder now. "Right. That's..."

Walker laughs. "Are you actually disappointed?"

"No. Don't be stupid!"

"I've offended you."

Ste sits back in the chair, arms crossed. His mouth feels heavy, like he's trying not to sulk.

"You're full of it."

"Don't get me wrong," Walker says, entirely serious now. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my life. If I was to fall in love..."

"You can stop with the compliments. I don't need them. And I don't need you to be in love with me."

"But it gave you answers, didn't it? A nice solution?"

Ste shrugs, partly agreeing. As unlikely as it would be, it would explain all of this.

"I can see why Brendan thought that. He knows how much I want you."

The present tense isn't lost on Ste; he shifts in his seat, not looking at Walker.

"I always have, from the second I saw you. That night when I almost had you..."

Ste closes his eyes to try and ward off the memories. That time only serves to remind him of how alone he felt. How he'd lost Brendan, and all he had wanted was to forget.

"It was one of the best nights of my life."

"Yeah, alright - we don't need to take a trip down memory lane."

"Your cock in my mouth though -"

"Walker!" Ste squeaks, would do more than that if he wouldn't be dragged from the room for it.

"Sorry."

"Yeah, you look really sorry..."

"I would of had you, if Brendan hadn't walked in. I would of had all of you."

"It all would have been built on lies. I was only with you because I was drunk off my head and you had turned Brendan against me. Is that what you would have wanted? For me to sleep with you because of that?"

Ste thinks he already knows the answer, holds up his hand to stop Walker from telling him it, the man staring sheepishly at him.

"You did like me though, didn't you? It couldn't have just been anyone."

Ste shakes his head, is about to tell Walker that he's pushing his luck, but something tells him not to.

"I did like you." His voice sounds like it's crackling, distant. "You were exactly what I needed. Just a...a break. From everything. You were...fun."

"Fun? High praise."

"You know what I mean." He can't give him more than fun. Even being here feels like a betrayal.

"And now?" There's something vulnerable about the question. Something that doesn't make Ste answer hastily.

"I can't forgive you for what you did to Brendan. I'm sorry, I wish I could. But I can't."

Walker nods, and there's a kind of acceptance there that Ste wasn't expecting.

"I know."

Something about this feels final. It makes Ste uncomfortable; he's never been any good at goodbyes, no matter how much practice he's had.

"I'm never going to see you again after today, am I?" His voice is resigned, low. A life spent locked up. He doesn't want that for Walker.

"Probably not, no."

"How are you being so...brave? I'd be terrified."

"I made that choice when I killed them. I knew what I was getting into."

Ste closes his eyes, covering his face with his hands in defeat. He'd hoped there would be another answer. That this had all been a mistake.

"Are you gonna tell me why you did it?"

Walker smiles at him softly. "Some things you just don't need to know."

"I'm not a kid. I can take it, if that's what you're worrying about." He's tired of being treated like something fragile. He wants to understand.

"I'm not trying to protect you. It's..." He falters, and it's one of the only times that Ste's seen him like this, tripping over his words. "It's for me. I'm keeping it for me, okay? No one has to know."

Ste can't argue against that. God knows there are things which he'd hate people to find out about his past.

"Oi. Hay." The officer's voice makes both men jump; it had been easy to forget that they aren't alone. The man points to his watch. "Tick tock. Time's up."

"I ain't even had half an hour yet."

The officer's eyes widen at Ste's tone. It's not something Ste will ever get used to, the power that the people in here can have over him. He could be kicked from this room just for breathing too loudly.

"It's okay," Walker interrupts. "We're done here."

"No -"

"Brendan will worry. You know he will."

Ste's stomach twists; he doesn't know what he'll be faced with when he leaves here. Doesn't know if Brendan will even talk to him for insisting on this visit.

"It feels weird," Ste says, playing with his hands. "This being it. I'm so used to seeing you everyday. I mean you're annoying and all, but..."

Walker laughs at that, and it feels like a victory for Ste. He doesn't want him to be miserable in these last moments.

"Just...keep your head down, yeah? Don't start any trouble."

"I've had enough trouble for a lifetime, sweetheart. Now go on. I hate long, drawn out goodbyes. They're so damn dramatic."

Ste huffs a laugh, rising from his seat. He doesn't know what to do now; shaking Walker's hand feels too formal, hugging him too inappropriate. Waving too ridiculous.

"Thank you, Simon. For saving me."

He leaves the room, and the last thing he sees is Walker smile.