Thanks for the amazing reviews. You all seem to want different things from this AU Stendan, so I'm just sticking to my original idea at the moment and hopefully it will include a little bit of everything for you all.

Here's the shorter update as promised.

Brendan had placated Jackie with some false promises and a few fake phone calls the next morning.

'Hello,' Anne's voice had come down the line.

'Hey, it's Brady. I need you to do a plumbing job for me.'

He'd almost heard her smirk: 'The Purple Zones are flooded again then?'

'This afternoon' Brendan had continued the fantasy: 'what time?'

'Ten past never I'm assuming.'

'Sounds good. I'll see you later.'

'Tell Jackie I said "hi".'

He'd hung up and then hit redial. This time he'd asked Anne if she could come and do some small building repairs to some of the flooded houses. Jackie had gone away satisfied. Brendan didn't feel at all guilty, she was stupid if she thought Brendan Brady was going to change.

The Estate was a mess. Mitzeee should have expected it. It was always like this after it rained heavily but at least the lightening hadn't finished off any Green Zoners like it had a few years ago. Three of the most unintelligent had decided to climb out onto the scaffolding which held their house up during the storm to "get a better look". At the time, Brendan had kept quoting that it must have been a process of "natural selection", but Mitzeee had known how shaken up he'd been about it. He hated thunderstorms at the best of times.

She parked as close to the front door of Brendan's house as she possibly could, edging just an inch forward so the distance from her car door to the house door was at an absolute minimum, but she still took an umbrella. The rain was particularly relentless today and even the six steps she had to take without a roof would have been enough to turn her from "walking perfection" to "drowned rat".

She dropped the umbrella just inside the doorway and stepped carefully across the puddle-ridden floorboards to get to the office.

'You really should invest in a doormat,' she announced flinging the door open dramatically. 'Or a mop, I could have broken my….' But she was too distracted by the scene ahead of her to decide exactly what she could have broken. Walker with his hands balled up in a disgusting Aztec jumper worn by that strange little American she'd had to take to Dublin once. Their faces were just inches apart.

'Well, well, well,' she beamed. 'This is very … cosy.' She waggled a painted finger nail towards Walker. 'I didn't know you were this way inclined. Does Brendan know? He'll be thrilled.'

'It's not what it looks like,' Walker growled, dropping the yank, who just pressed himself against the wall in fear. He wasn't as well put together this morning as he usually was, hair everywhere, eyes darting back and forth. She wasn't stupid. It was obvious Walker had been threatening the yank, but playing dumb was how she stayed safe in this game, and she was a brilliant actress. So she went on:

'That's what Bren said when I caught him the first time,' she sighed, playing easily with the curls in her hair. 'It's not what it looks like,' she said in what she believed to be a pretty brilliant imitation of her best friend. Her audience were less impressed. 'Still,' she was unfazed, 'it was impressive he could talk at all really, with his tongue so far down that other man's throat.'

Walker, it seemed, was done listening to her stories. He turned back to the American and hissed:

'Go.' And: 'Take the plane ticket and go. And if I ever see you again, I'll kill you.'

Mitzeee wondered what the yank could have done to annoy Brendan, Walker and Warren so much. He'd seemed pretty pathetic when she'd spoken to him, not the kind to draw attention to himself, but she just said:

'Sounds like you went to same "Charm Your Boyfriend" school as Brendan.' She laughed and once again, her audience gave her nothing except stony indifference. 'I'm wasting the best years of my life here,' she muttered as the American whispered:

'What about the other ticket?'

Walker just snarled in response and the American ran out of the office so quickly he almost knocked Mitzeee over.

'Plane ticket?' she questioned. It might have been a stupid idea to talk to Walker when he was like this. She'd never seen him angry before. He was The Estate's Mr Calm with the ability to wrap you in circles with a few cleverly-chosen statements, he usually left the scowling and grunting to the Neanderthal, Warren. 'Where's he going?'

'Home.'

'Home? Home to the States?'

Walker nodded like he was fed-up of her, but she didn't care about that, all she cared about was:

'And he has a spare ticket?'

She raced out of the office. She could see it now; her name in lights, star of stage and screen. She'd be Americas adopted sweetheart. She'd sing "Happy Birthday" to the president, get her skirt caught in an updraft, say something inspirational about dancing like nobody's watching and have a sordid affair with rich men and expensive drugs. And best of all, she'd finally be able to upgrade her car into a pink Porsche and drive it along Rodeo Drive.

But she'd never know whether or not, had she managed to catch up with the yank, she'd have actually taken the ticket and gone to The States because as she reached the front door, she heard Brendan's voice:

'Where are you going so fast?'

She closed her eyes tight. She wasn't going anywhere, it was just a stupid pipe dream. So she span around on her heals, plastered on a smile and said:

'I was coming to find you.'

'And you thought the best way to do that was to leave my house?' he asked, coming down the stairs and walking over to kiss her on the cheek. She could smell the soap and feel the dampness of his cheek. He'd clearly just got out of the shower. He was still doing up his fly. The man had no shame, but he was her family. She couldn't leave him, so she flapped a hand dismissively towards him before making her announcement, the one that had made her drive all the way from Dublin on this dreary drudge of a day.

'I,' she smiled, posing a little to emphasise that this was all her, 'have had a brilliant idea.'

'Oh God,' he groaned dramatically, as he flopped onto the sofa.

'Don't be like that! I haven't even told you what it is yet.'

'I don't need to know,' he said, flicking on the television. 'Last time you said something like that, I ended up walking around without a moustache for a week.'

Mitzeee couldn't help but laugh. She'd almost forgotten about that. He'd looked like a middle-aged baby and he'd been so grumpy about it that he'd refused to talk to her until it had grown back.

'You looked great,' but she couldn't stop the laughter for long enough for her to sound honest. 'Like Hugh Grant.'

'Funnily enough, Anne,' he spat her name like an insult, 'when running one of the biggest crime networks in Western Europe, looking like Hugh bloody Grant is not an advantage.'

'It grew back, didn't it?' she sighed, sitting next to him. 'Anyway,' she reached into her handbag, 'this idea's better.'

'Clearly,' Brendan scorned as she threw a copy of Heat onto his lap. 'This one comes with props.' He flicked idly through the first couple of pages.

'Turn to page six,' Mitzeee said, waiting for him to do as she told him, but that was just Brendan all over. He always had to take his sweet time when it came to doing what others wanted.

'What am I looking at?' he asked when he finally turned to the page called "Living Loud in London".

'These are all the celebrities who were out in London last night.'

'Okay,' he drawled.

'I bet you don't even recognise half of them.'

'I don't recognise any of them.'

'What!' she demanded. 'Not even him?' she pointed to the largest picture in the centre of the double page.

'No,' Brendan said, bringing the magazine almost to his nose to get a better look. 'Cute though, I guess.'

'So says you and most of the world's boy-liking teenagers.'

He just frowned.

'That's Louis Tomlinson.'

His expression didn't change. Not even Brendan could be this clueless.

'From One Direction!'

'Your words mean nothing,' he shrugged, peering at the picture again. He kept squinting, he probably needed glasses. He was getting old.

'I bet you don't even know what the charts are!'

He paused for a second and then said something that almost knocked her speechless:

'I've heard of Katy Perry.'

She just stared. When did her 60s-loving, Johnny Cash-worshiping, completely backwards best friend have time to learn about Katy Perry. But she stopped herself from asking the question, this revelation was dragging her off course and she still had to tell Brendan her brilliant idea.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and started from the beginning:

'These are the celebrities who were out in London over the weekend. Half of them aren't even famous.' And because she couldn't help herself: 'Except for Louis Tomlinson and you are uncultured.'

She could see Brendan getting ready to protest but she held up her hand and used her fingers to mimic a mouth closing. He got the message.

'The point is,' she forced on deliberately, 'you don't have to be that famous in London. You just have to make people think you're famous.'

'So?' he asked, though she suspected that he absolutely knew already where this was going.

'So … we should move to London.'

'I thought you wanted to move to LA,' he said, flicking idly through the magazine and pointing to a page. 'Is this the new Spice Girls?'

'That's Little Mix,' Mitzeee sighed. 'They're a British girl band.'

'A "yes" would have done.' He flicked a few more pages ad Mitzeee winced as the real reason she wanted to go to London was revealed. A picture of him falling out of a fancy London nightclub next to his famous, former-footballing father, who looked totally embarrassed and had a hand up trying to shield them both from the paps.

'I – I just said,' she continued, angry at how nervous she suddenly sounded, 'it's easier to be famous in London than in LA and….'

'Who's that?' Brendan pointed to the face that had haunted her for months, but she stayed calm and shrugged:

'I don't know. Are you listening to me, Bren?'

'Yeah, yeah, yeah. London. Fame. Money. Bright lights. Mitzeee, with three "e"s.' He held the magazine closer to his face and said: 'I know him.'

Of course it was then that "I-never-forget-a-name Walker" would appear from the office.

'Ah, just the man,' Brendan said, getting to his feet.

'I'm not so sure,' Walker said, eying the glossy magazine warily. At least he was happier now. 'That's really more Mitzeee's area. Or yours,' he half-joked. Definitely happier. 'No?' he smirked on seeing Brendan's scowl. 'Bit too gay, even for you?' He gave Brendan's shoulder a friendly thump.

'You're in a good mood,' Brendan accused suspiciously. He didn't even know about the evil mood Walker had been in earlier.

'What I thought was going to be a bad day is turning into a good day,' he shrugged, grimacing just slightly. His shoulder still wasn't completely healed.

'You been gambling again?'

'No. Look, don't worry. There's a few little tweaks to make but … you'll find out soon enough. Now,' he took the magazine from Brendan's hand. 'How exactly am I supposed to be helping?'

Mitzeee just had to watch helplessly as Brendan inevitably pointed to the picture. She cringed as she heard Walker say calmly:

'Riley Costello. He used to be in Blue Zone, got kicked out for attacking Warren with your Cheryl's vase.' A pause and then pointed to the picture: 'Annabel's Club. That's pretty exclusive, lad's obviously doing alright for himself.' He looked up. 'Anything else?'

'No,' Brendan shook his head. He was too busy looking at Mitzeee with a smile she kne she wasn't going to like. He waited for Walker to leave, but he didn't wait after that. The door had barely closed before he began.

'So suddenly your little trip to London makes sense.'

'I don't know what you're talking about.' She was fooling no one.

'I didn't know you were still hung up on him.'

She thought about protesting her innocence again, but this was Brendan. She'd tell him eventually. She told him everything eventually and she couldn't keep something as big as this from him forever.

'It's not that,' she whispered, though seeing Riley could be a pleasant side-effect of her news. 'It's…. I'm….'

She hadn't had to say it out loud yet, hadn't wanted to, saying the words was going to make it seem more real somehow.

'Anne?' he sounded concerned, but she was shaking and couldn't decide whether she was hot or cold, and she felt like she might vomit, or pass out, or both. She felt out of control and it wasn't a feeling she liked. Not even Brendan would have seen her like this often and that was obvious from his expression and the way his arm slid around her shoulders and the way his voice was gentler as he repeated: 'Anne?'

'I'm pregnant,' she whispered. Her vision was blurred with tears, her head dipped, she could feel Brendan tense around her but she didn't look up. She just kept talking while she was feeling brave: 'It's Riley's. At least, I think it is and….' She sniffed hard and buried her face into his chest. 'I can't bring up a kid, Brendan. I can't.' She stopped. The lump in her throat restricting her talking. Anne couldn't tell Brendan the rest of the plan, so she straightened up flicked her hair and did her best to deliver the rest of the announcement as Mitzeee. 'It'd be bad for business to have a kid.' She pointed between them: 'and we don't have the kind of lifestyle that would allow me to bring up a child well. So, I go to London, I find Riley, I ask him to take the kid and we know he will because,' she could feel the tears stinging her eyes despite herself, 'he's Riley.' She forced a watery smile at her friend. 'Riley's a good man.'

'And what happens to you afterwards?' Brendan asked, brushing her tears away with his thumb.

'I go to LA and become famous … once you finally take me,' she smiled weakly. She was trying so hard to pretend this wasn't a big deal and Brendan must have been able to see that, so why wasn't he playing along? Why wasn't he smiling too and pretending they were discussing something as trivial as changing the curtains? But no, he was ruining everything by being serious and saying softly:

'You know I'm never going to leave this place, Anne.'

She could feel her face screw up as the tears contorted every muscle. She nodded slowly. 'I know,' she practically gasped out. 'And I won't leave you.' She punched him lightly in the chest to emphasise the point. 'We're family you and me.' These tears weren't like her. It was probably the hormones, wasn't that what pregnant people said?

'It'll change,' Brendan promised, placing a hand over her stomach. 'Once you have this baby, you won't be able to leave it. Not you, Anne. You're not that heartless.' She placed her hands over his and wondered, just for a moment, what it would have been like if Brendan hadn't been gay. 'I'll visit you, you know,' he whispered.

'Great,' she scorned. 'I'll just be another Cheryl for you to visit a few times a year, when you remember and you won't be able to think of something to buy for my 21st birthday.'

Brendan took a step away from her, with a raised eyebrow and a meaningful little cough.

'A girl can turn 21 as many times as she likes,' she argued.

'Okay,' he agreed. It was an alien concept for him to turn away from an opportunity to call her vain, or foolish, or narcissistic. She must have looked a mess.

They were quiet for a moment. Mitzeee was trying to decide what to do next. How long did she wait before going to London? Maybe she could have the baby in Ireland, give it a weird sort of tie to Brendan, but what would Riley do if she turned up on his doorstep one day with a baby in tow? Would he even remember her by then? Did he even remember her now?

'I'll book you a flight,' Brendan said slowly. 'After Chery's birthday. That'll be a nice send off.'

'For who?' she scorned. 'Can't I go to London before? Get out of that hell of a party?'

'No.'

'Fine,' she huffed, but as silence consumed them again, she became increasingly aware that Cheryl's birthday wasn't too far away, especially when it means saying goodbye to everything you know.

Hopefully that was a more lighthearted chapter before my two week break. This fic's only getting darker once I return. Having said that, I've nearly written the ending of it now and I'm actually quite excited about where it's taken me from this point to the end. Hopefully you'll enjoy it too.

See you in a few weeks when Brendan and Ste will finally talk about what happens next with them!