Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they belong to Hollyoaks!

Summary: Brendan is released from prison but isn't sure how to place himself back into Ste's life.

A/N: I know my last fic sounded so final but then the end happened and there was so much potential for further storytelling!

Guardian

Chapter One

Brendan took a deep, shuddering breath. The air was cleaner somehow; the scent engulfing his nostrils and making his head spin. It was crazy but it almost felt like he'd never seen the outside world before. Everything was so beautiful; clear and fresh, hopeful. He took a tentative step forwards, his shoes black and pointed, the ones he should have died in.

He hadn't expected to ever leave this place. When he'd confessed on that balcony, he had known it was the end of everything. He had laid himself bare, expelled every demon imaginable. But the justice system didn't quite work that way and Brendan had found himself charged with Manslaughter for the death of his father. Cheryl's testimony had helped, and the lack of evidence for the other murders had made a difference. He'd gotten seven years and yet here he was, out in half that time for good behaviour.

Good behaviour. It was almost laughable, but somehow Brendan had managed it. He'd done every rehabilitation class they'd thrown at him. Even taken a few English classes for the sake of it. He didn't have anything to prove; he told Cheryl not to visit and Steven… well, he'd made himself clear there too.

Who else had he done it for though? Himself? He wasn't sure. No amount of self reflection had given him an answer to that. He was just happy to be out, to be free again. The shirt he wore was too tight for him now; he'd grown bulkier inside, he had to be. He went to the nearest shop he could find, using the cash he'd had on him that night to buy a few necessities.

After that he paused, unsure of where to turn. Could he really go back to Chester? Have people staring at him constantly, talking about him, making him feel ashamed? Surely he'd had that enough in his life already. But he had to know how he was, he had to check on him. The non- contact had been brutal but necessary. Steven had tried, despite Brendan's final words to him. He was persistent for a good year. Visiting orders denied, half written letters ignored. It pained Brendan but he hadn't known at the time that he wouldn't be serving his full sentence and though seven years wasn't life, it might as well have been.

Eventually Steven had given up. Brendan just hoped he hadn't given up on himself. He couldn't fool himself into thinking that Steven was better off with him around. He wasn't about to throw himself back into his life without warning. He didn't even know if Steven still lived in Hollyoaks. For all he knew, he'd moved on. Brendan's chest tightened at the thought but he rented a car regardless and made the drive, hands twitching on the steering wheel all the way.

The village wasn't the same and yet in some ways it was. Brendan kept a low profile, hood up and beard half covering his face. There were some new faces, people he didn't know. Loud, boisterous men and women in red heels. He looked up at his old club, feeling nothing. It was no more than a building to him now. His eyes drew away towards the deli and then froze, hardly believing his eyes.

Carter and Hay was no more. Instead it bore the singular name Carter. Or 'Carter's' to be more specific. Brendan felt his insides freeze in panic. He spotted Douglas inside and it took an incredible amount of self restraint to not approach him. He decided to address one of the men he'd come across earlier.

"Boy," he asked the youngest. "What happened here?" He grunted.

The boy looked him over appraisingly. He took in his stance, the strong muscles visible even beneath his coat and gulped visibly. Brendan almost smiled, almost.

"What do you mean?"

"This isn't the same building as before." Brendan said, patience wearing thin.

"Oh that one burnt down a few years ago." He answered carefully.

"Burnt down?" Brendan asked sharply. "Was anyone- did anyone get hurt?"

"No." The boy shook his head. "But they never found out who did it."

"The other owner…" Brendan began. "What happened to him?"

Before the boy could answer, a familiar voice called out to him.

"You gonna get back to work?" Douglas asked, only a little annoyed.

"Yes, boss!"

Brendan noticed the different uniform then. They had changed it. The shirt was more of a polo shirt and a darker blue. The trousers were black and shapely. Brendan idly wondered if Steven had come up with it.

"Who's that you were talking to?" Douglas asked and Brendan took that as his cue to leave.

He leant against the alleyway wall, taking several deep breaths. What had happened here? Where was Steven? He had thought he was leaving him with the best chance to make a life for himself, but what if he'd been wrong? He had sacrificed so much for Cheryl but Steven? He hadn't deserved any of this. Brendan pushed himself off of the wall, determined to go to Steven's flat and at least find out if he lived there still. Maybe he had moved after all. Brendan wasn't sure if he could continue on with life without seeing him at least once.

It was dark when he arrived, the curtains drawn. Brendan found himself unable to call out Steven's name, it was far too painful. Instead he knocked against the window. Nothing. He tried again and heard a stirring inside. Growing more confident, he practically threw his fist through the window, alarmed when he saw a crack form. He ducked out of sight immediately at the same moment the door swung open.

"Oi!" A voice called out.

Brendan froze, staring in awe at the man before him. It wasn't Steven. He was older, perhaps around forty. He was heavily built, sandy haired with piercing blue eyes. He looked vaguely familiar.

Brendan felt his chest seize up in grief. He should have known. Steven couldn't wait forever, especially when Brendan had given him nothing to cling on to. He was just about to turn away when another figure approached.

"What is it?"

He stepped outside into the light and Brendan stopped breathing. Steven.

"Go back inside, Steven." The man said, voice rough. "Probably some kid playing tricks."

"It don't matter, could do with a new window anyway." Steven grinned, the effect lighting up his entire face.

"And I suppose I'll be the one to pay for it, hm?" The man shook his head, affectionate smile on his face.

"When I find a job…" Steven said sheepishly.

"The club has an opening." The man suggested, peering at Steven beneath his eyebrows.

Steven froze, his eyes gazing into the middle distance. Brendan could almost feel his eyes on him but it was impossible.

"Steven?" The man asked, looking at him in concern.

"I, uh, yeah." Steven began, clearly uncomfortable. "Maybe I will." He didn't look sure, and Brendan thought he could see moisture in his eyes.

The man patted him on the shoulder. Brendan's fingers curled into fists reflexively. No amount of anger management was going to abate this feeling inside of him.

There was something about them though. The vibe wasn't sexual, nor loving. It was something else. Protective… and new. Who was this man, who had made a claim on his Steven? Who was he to even call him that, when it was Brendan who always had? Brendan could feel the blood welting on his palms from where his fingernails had dug into the flesh too hard. He breathed heavily through his nose, trying to stifle his too loud breaths.

"Come on, Steven. It's cold outside." The man guided him back inside, glancing around warily.

"Wait!" Steven said, bounding outside again. He seemed… younger somehow. He looked the same as he always had to Brendan no matter how many years had passed. He had the same bright blue eyes, pouting mouth, smooth skin. His hair looked impossibly soft and brighter. Perhaps he'd seen some sun. Brendan liked that thought. His heart swelled with the sight of him, drinking in every detail like a man denied sustenance. He wanted to reach out and touch him so badly but knew he couldn't, not with someone else by his side.

"What have you found?" The man asked, sighing. He wasn't impatient; he looked at Steven with a keen gaze, as though afraid to let him out of his sight.

"Something in the grass." Steven said, bending down to scoop up the item. Brendan crawled back further, cracking a few twigs in the process. Steven froze, nose turned up suspiciously to the wind. He shook his head, ignoring his instincts. Brendan sighed inwardly; had he not listened to Brendan all this time?

"It's just a…" Steven stopped speaking then. His eyes widened in disbelief, his fingertips holding the shiny metal.

Brendan leant closer to look, wondering what he had found. He saw the glint of the 'B' in the light and shrunk back. Shit.

"What?" The man approached him, taking the cufflink out of Steven's hands. "Whose is this?"

"I don't know." Steven lied, swallowing. His eyes darted out as though searching for something. Brendan kept deadly still. "It must have been here a while." Steven said quietly to himself, rising. His colour and smile had vanished. Brendan felt his heart twist in sympathy.

"I'll get rid of it then?" He asked, searching Steven's face for answers.

"No. It looks expensive, maybe I can pawn it." Steven's smile returned. Brendan didn't know whether to feel relieved or sad.

"Come inside now." The man said, clasping his shoulder. "There's a good lad."

Brendan looked at the ground, bereft. It was time to go. He backed away carefully, trying not to make any noise.

"Dad," Steven said suddenly. "I will get a job you know."

"I know, son." The man said, grinning now and ruffling Steven's hair. "I believe in you."

Steven's face shined with happiness as he went back inside. Brendan on the other hand remained completely still, stunned beyond belief.