Sorry this has taken soooooo long. I've just moved from one side of the world to the other. Sorry for any typos – jetlag is still playing havoc with my brain. Next update shouldn't be as slow. Thanks for all the reviews, I really enjoy reading your comments.

Ste had been in a bad mood ever since his last meeting with Brendan. He just kept replaying the conversation over and over in his head. He could hear Brendan's hissed insults every time he looked in a mirror, could feel the hatred every time he went to put on the clothes from Barcelona. It was like a ricocheting bullet over and over in his brain: "What more do you honestly think someone like you could have to offer someone like me?".

Ste had had no answers then and he had no answers now. He'd known all along that Brendan didn't really care about him. If he had, Ste would have been offered a seat at the head table and a room in Brendan's house. But that hadn't happened. Brendan had kept him permanently at arm's length and Ste was made to know that his place was in Blue Zone. Maybe it was better that it had ended when it did, because Ste had truly considered leaving Rae for Brendan. He'd been foolish, but that was over. Everything was all over. It had all faded to nothing and he felt … vulnerable and somehow alone.

But Rae loved him, and that was important. He needed her now.

Ste knew he needed to talk to someone in situations like this. He'd learned that from the crappy films his mum used to force him to watch. He knew he could have spoken to Joel or Doug, maybe he should have spoken to them but the boys from Houses 4 and 16, were too focused on Rhys, and the fact he still hadn't made it back from his initiation task.

'Maybe he'll come back today, innit,' suggested Mickey, fidgeting irritatingly.

'Sneak back on the bus,' Spike agreed.

'Let's hope so,' Doug muttered. 'How long do we wait until we tell Brendan that Rhys has gone?'

'I ain't telling him … never,' Bart said quickly.

'Me neither,' Kevin agreed. 'That guy gives me the creeps.'

'Ste can go,' Spike shrugged. 'Brendan likes him, innit.'

'No way.' Ste shook his head firmly. He never wanted to see that man ever again. Ste couldn't trust himself, didn't know whether he'd try to punch Brendan or kiss him. And he didn't know which option was least likely to get him hurt. One thing was definite: 'I don't wanna go near his stupid moustache face.'

Joel raised an eyebrow, Doug looked surprised but the other lads just complained and tried to get him to change his mind, with ever-increasingly annoying mantra of: "But you've got the ear of the boss."

Ste was relieved when the roar of Brendan's BMW racing through the streets distracted everyone and had them running to find shoes so they could get to Central Square before the stragglers in the higher zones. Unfortunately, Doug wasn't so easily distracted.

'Is everything okay?' the yank asked, placing a hand on Ste's shoulder.

'It's over.' Ste shrugged the gesture away. 'Don't really wanna talk about it. I just wanna find Rae, now, me.'

That turned out to be easier said than done. He searched all around Central Square but he couldn't see her bouncing blonde hair or cheap knock-off converses anywhere. The crowd thinned quickly until the only women left were the newbies and the oldies and still, he couldn't spot Rae among their dwindling numbers. He wondered for a moment if she'd gone with someone else, if one of the good-looking, muscle-bound Red Zoners had stomped in and swept her off her feet before scrawny Ste had had a chance. But this was Rae; the first person to ever say "I love you" to him. She wouldn't do that. She wouldn't.

He glanced up to the platform and saw Mitzeee relaxing in Brendan's chair. She looked away from him with a quick, guilty flick of her head but he knew she'd been watching him. The way kept glancing back with an almost apologetic look on her face was a dead giveaway. She knew something.

He marched over to the platform and jumped onto it easily.

'What have you done with her?' he demanded when he jumped to his feet. 'Where is she? Where is Rae?'

'Who?' Mitzeee asked, but Ste just knew she was faking it. She had to be.

'You know who!' he growled. 'Rae Wilson, she's blonde and pretty and kind and nice.'

'Such flattery,' Mitzeee scorned. 'I don't know how I could keep my hands of someone who said I was both kind and nice.'

'Where … is … she?' he seethed. He felt angrier than he'd been in a while, and not the angry he felt when he was around Brendan. This was just pure, undiluted anger and it only got worse when Mitzeee fixed her hair and shrugged:

'She doesn't work for me anymore. Now, run along little boy.'

'No. No. You don't get to just fob me off,' he shouted. 'What happened?'

'Calm down,' she hissed like an angry school teacher. She glared and Ste could feel himself begin to cower just slightly. He felt like a tool. He probably shouldn't have shouted like that but instead of an apology he gave her a calm repetition of his question:

'Where is she? Please.'

'She wasn't doing her job,' Mitzeee explained offhandedly, as though she wasn't casually destroying his world. 'She refused to sleep with anyone other than you. When you're not around, she stays in Central Square and does nothing. Which is ironic really, when you consider what you're up to while she sits here loyally.'

The guilt hit Ste like a concrete block to the gut. Rae was so loyal to him, she wouldn't even sleep with anyone else from The Estate when it was her job. He on the other hand would sleep with …. He shuddered. He didn't want to think about that anymore. He didn't want to think how loyalty had cost Rae her job.

'She wasn't worth the money I paid her,' Mitzeee finished categorically. 'She had to go.'

'No,' he repeated. 'No.' This couldn't be happening. Not now. 'I have to see her. You can't do this to me.'

He sounded pathetic. He knew that. But he couldn't lose Rae. Not like this. Not after what she'd said to him. Not now she was all he had left. He'd chosen her. He'd chosen to love her.

He felt Mitzeee's hand land softly on his shoulder and squeeze gently. He almost believed her false sympathy as she whispered:

'I'm sorry. I really mean that, but honestly,' she brushed some imaginary strands of hair away from his hair in an action that felt all too familiar, 'what chance did the two of you really have, Steven?'

And just like that, things became a twisted kind of obvious.

'He did it,' he realised aloud. 'He did it,' he repeated, more sure this time as he shook the madam's faux-comfort away. 'He couldn't handle the fact I didn't choose him.'

'I made the final decision,' Mitzeee said firmly, but Ste didn't believe her. She was Brendan's puppet, she wouldn't do anything without his approval. She was just another dancing monkey, just like Warren and Walker. Though maybe Mitzeee was worse because she actually seemed to feel some kind of affection towards Brendan.

'I need to see him,' he said determinedly, turning quickly away. He was going to ride this wave of desperate determination all the way to Brendan's house. It would help him get passed the cold glare. It would help him ignore the part of his brain that couldn't stop replaying those hot nights with Brendan. It was already helping him to ignore Mitzeee's call of:

'Are you sure that's wise?'

::

Ste burst through Brendan's front door and in on some kind of meeting between Brendan, Walker and Warren.

'What do you think you're doing right?' he demanded, through angry pants.

Not one of the men jumped or even flinched. Instead, they just barely glanced his way as though he'd politely introduced himself with a gentle clearing of the throat. Ste supposed that they wouldn't be particularly good "cold-hearted criminals" if they were startled every time someone shouted at them.

'Ah, Steven,' Brendan smiled warmly with all the falseness of the persistently-happy, obviously-overworked receptionist at the expensive hotel they'd stayed at in Barcelona. 'Perfect timing.'

All Ste managed in return was a slightly pathetic:

'What?'

'We were just talking about you,' Walker clarified, pointing to the bits of paper scattered on the glass coffee table.

'Talking about me? Why?'

Ste craned his neck to read a few of the words typed on the paper, but it was all upside down and Ste found it difficult enough to read when the words were the right way up.

'You may have noticed, Rat Boy,' Warren chimed in, 'but the food at this place is crap. And you are the only one on the whole damn estate who can cook.'

'And you like cooking, don't you Steven?' Brendan encouraged. Ste felt himself nodding along blindly. 'Course you do,' Brendan smiled. 'You're gonna leave here and be a chef, right? Run away with May.'

'Rae,' Walker corrected before Ste had chance to.

'Except,' Brendan looked around the room dramatically before glancing to his watch. 'Shouldn't you be with young May now?'

And Ste was suddenly reminded why he'd burst into the house in the first place.

'I would be if you hadn't got her fired!'

'Fired?' Brendan repeated, quirking an eyebrow. He almost looked like he found this funny, found Ste funny. 'Why would I do that? What would be the point?'

'Because you're jealous,' Ste accused sharply. The laughter from the three men ahead of him actually made him jump. Ste was not a cold-hearted criminal; not yet.

'Jealous,' Walker smirked, shaking his head. 'You sure know how to pick them, Brady.'

Brendan shrugged.

'I've made some errors,' he admitted, before turning to Ste. 'I have nothing to do with the hiring and firing of the girls. If you have an issue, you need to talk to Anne.'

Ste opened his mouth to protest, but all his words had dried up. Brendan was right, why would he get Rae kicked out of Mitzeee's girls. Jealousy didn't seem realistic for a man with everything. He realised how stupid it was now that he'd said it aloud.

'You need to be more careful who you accuse in future, Steven,' Brendan continued.

'S-sorry,' Ste heard himself stammer. 'I'm sorry.'

'That's okay,' Brendan reassured him, standing up and moving towards him. Ste just felt like a fool. Of course Brendan wasn't behind it. Brendan had told Ste over and over that he wasn't important to him and he couldn't even remember Rae's name. Ste had just been angry, hadn't he? He'd been irrational because he'd lost Rae and he needed someone to blame.

'Sorry,' he repeated, looking down at the beige rug. He felt Brendan's hand on the back of his neck, felt himself being pulled towards the older man, felt strong arms wrap around him. He felt safe like this. The smell of Brendan, the feel of Brendan; it was right. Ste even managed to shake off some of the stupidity he felt.

'Feeling better?' Brendan asked, pushing him to arm's length, hand still on his shoulder. Ste couldn't look up. He didn't want to see Brendan's expression. He could imagine it, concern marred only by the amusement in his eyes, laughing silently at Ste's idiocy. So Ste kept his eyes firmly on the floor and nodded softly.

'Good,' Brendan seemed to approve. 'Now,' he removed all contact with Ste. 'I need to go and check on our rebel. Walker and Foxy will talk you through your new job.'

Ste glanced over to the two cronies, who just beckoned him over. Walker patted the seat next to him in an invitation for Ste to sit down.

'It's pretty simple Rat Boy,' Warren explained. 'In the interest of not wasting food, you're going to cook every day.'

'What! No. The Blue Zoners would kill me. They hate cooking.'

He was vaguely aware of Brendan letting someone out of the office. He glanced up and saw what looked like the back of Rhys' head as he practically ran out of the house. Well, at least that would give the lads in Blue Zone something to cheer about before he dropped his own cooking bombshell on them.

'You're welcome to try and convince the other zones to help,' Walker suggested, but he was just saying it to sound reasonable. They all knew that there was no way that scrawny, unthreatening Ste Hay would convince anyone from any of the superior zones to help him.

'Okay Steven,' Brendan said falling heavily into the sofa with a beer in his hand. 'Time for you to leave.'

Ste's head was all over the place as he walked back to Blue Zone. So much had happened in the past few hours. He'd lost Rae and been promoted (or was it demoted) to head chef for The Estate. Four hundred meals, every night for … ever? It seemed a daunting stretch, but Ste reasoned that it was only the same as what he'd be expected to do if he ever did leave this life and work in a restaurant. Except, of course, in a restaurant the people helping him prepare the meals wouldn't be incompetent little idiots who were hating every single minute.

He didn't even want to think about the lads' reactions when he told them that they would be cooking every night from now on. He just hoped that Rhys' return might soften the blow.

It didn't. In fact, if anything, it just seemed to make everything worse.

::

'How could you?'

It wasn't angry, just disappointed and it came from Kevin … obviously. Any of the other lads would have bypassed disappointment and skipped straight to kicking his head in. They looked like they wanted to as they backed Kevin up with some snarls and occasional lunges in his direction.

All Ste could think was: How do they know about the new cooking arrangements?

But they didn't. Of course they didn't. He'd come straight here from the top of the hill, unless Rhys had overheard and...

'You're a toerage!' Spike snarled. 'Pretending to be our mate, but really you're just spying for the big man.'

'I thought we agreed we'd hear Ste's side of the story,' Doug said calmly. Always the mediator, never a backbone.

'Oh here we go,' Bart snorted. 'Just 'cause you fancy him, Doug.'

Ste groaned internally when he saw Doug's face glow red as the yank feebly protested his innocence. Great! What was it with Ste Hay being attractive to gays? Maybe Doug and Brendan could have a thing with each other and leave him well out of it. But just the thought of that made Ste's toes curl and his fists clench, which may have sent the wrong signal to the houseful of blood-thirsty youths.

'Spoiling for a fight, lad,' Mickey demanded, pushing himself right into Ste's face. 'Come on, big man, hit me. I'll do you in, innit.'

'Come on then,' Ste snarled back, because even though his chances were virtually zero, he'd had a crappy day and he'd quite like the chance to swing his fists at something and here the crunch of bone beneath his knuckles.

'Calm down!' That command had a distinctly Scottish flavour to it and Ste felt a hand in his chest shove him backwards away from the mob.

'No fighting, right,' Joel said, focusing on the group. 'We agreed.'

'Yeah, come on mate,' Bart agreed, dragging Mickey back, glare never leaving Ste. 'He'll only tell Brady and you'll end up in the office for the three days like Rhys.'

'The office?' Ste frowned, looking at Rhys. He was sat at the window seat, not quite getting involved. But he was sipping from a beer can and looking at Ste like he'd just bitten the head off his pet hamster. Dirty looks had never stopped Ste in the past so he just continued on the path to a certain pummelling.

'Why were you in the office, eh? What did you do?'

'What did he do?' Mickey exploded. And this time no one was quick enough to stop him as he lunged at Ste and smacked him square in the mouth. Ste staggered backwards from the force of it, but before he had time to react, Doug was holding him back and Joel and Bart were doing the same to Mickey.

Ste could taste the warm coppery blood and he spat into the corner of the room, a trickle still appearing at the corner of his mouth. He couldn't form any words, it was like a someone had flicked on a blood-tap in his mouth. He knew he had a bust lip. They always bled like this. He'd had enough of them to recognise the signs, but just like all the times he'd got them before, he was too angry to be in pain. He spat again, another thick red puddle as Mickey yelled:

'Go on then, traitor, run to Brady. Tell him I hit you. Bloody Judas!'

Ste wasn't really sure how he was Judas. If anything, Ste was Jesus or at least he was sure as hell feeling like the martyr right now.

'Why would I tell Brendan?' he asked, through a bubble of saliva and blood.

'Ha!' Mickey scorned, but it was Kevin who explained:

'We know everything,' he said calmly. 'You know, we thought it was a good thing, you having the ear of the boss.' There was that phrase Ste hated. 'We were getting more jobs, less power cuts, the car even started driving around House 14s skate ramp instead of through it.'

Ste had no idea things had changed that much. Ever since he'd arrived, Blue Zone had had plenty of jobs, there hadn't been a single power cut and Ste honestly assumed the few occasions that car had hit the skate ramp had been an accident. He was reminded how fresh he still was in this place.

'But now it all makes sense, doesn't it?' Kevin continued. 'Because for a while we couldn't work out why he'd chosen you.' Ste still wondered that. 'But it's obvious. You're the only one willing to give feedback on Blue Zone activity.'

'What? No.'

'You got rid of Larry.'

'But he tried to….' He didn't get chance to explain as Kevin went on:

'You got rid of Riley.'

'What?'

'What was it about Riley, Ste?' Bart asked. 'Didn't like playing footy in the streets?'

'I didn't do anything to Riley,' Ste protested, thought he may as well have been talking to a potted plant in Gaelic for the amount of notice they were taking.

'And then Rhys,' Kevin shook his head in disgust. 'Doing his initiation, proving himself to be worthy of the Blue Zone Brotherhood and you, you go and tell Brady.'

'I didn't.'

'He told me his spy told him,' Rhys muttered from the window seat.

'Only eight people knew about that task, Ste,' Joel said sorrowfully. 'And they're all in this room.'

'And only one of us spoke to Brady that night,' Bart said, scowl etched across his ugly features.

'That didn't have anything to do with Rhys!' Ste protested.

'So what was it about then?' Spike demanded. And Ste wished he was quicker, wished he was clever and that lies easily came to him. But he wasn't and they didn't and he ended up muttering the truth, which was:

'I can't say.'

Because whatever the boys were going to do to him for this, Brendan would do a million times worse.

'Get out,' Bart said sharply.

'No,' Ste answered.

'I said: Get. Out,' Bart hissed.

'Who died and made you king, eh?'

'Ste,' Joel's voice was gentler but just as determined. 'I think it'd be best if you left the house too.'

'Where the hell am I supposed to go?' Ste demanded. He was angry more than anything else, but reality was starting to kick in now. He was going to be homeless … and this was cold, wet rainy Ireland.

'Why don't you go curl up with Brady?' Spike taunted. 'You seem to like his company.'

Ste hadn't had the energy to fight that final comment. There may have been a time a few days ago where he'd have gone straight to Brendan's house, but not anymore. Despite a few gentle words and a hug earlier, Brendan had made it quite clear that Ste was nothing to him. Anyway, Ste didn't need Brendan. He needed Rae and he needed somewhere to sleep tonight.

He knocked at House 14 first. They'd always been nice to him, held him up as some hero for tailgating that once, always came to him when they wanted advice on how to deal with Brendan. But, despite the fact all the lights were on and he could actually see them through the window, no one answered the door. It was the same response at all the other houses in Blue Zone, which was how he found himself cobbling together a makeshift shelter from House 14's stash planks and old tin bins, which they used for their ramps.

It was cold and uncomfortable in the shelter and his brain just couldn't switch off as he replayed the day's events over and over in his head trying to work out how everything had gone so dramatically wrong so horribly quickly.