“Here, mate. Your tie’s crooked.” Travis reached up to adjust Nicholas’ tie, surprised when it popped right off of his collar. “You’re wearing your uniform tie?” he demanded.

Nicholas took it back and replaced it. “I don’t know how to tie the other one.”

Travis just shook his head. “You hopeless fucking bastard—”

“You promised you won’t do that anymore,” Nicholas said tiredly. “Besides. I never saw the point in it, if I never wear one.”

“I know. I’m sorry. Just... stressed, you know?” Even though he knew that Nicholas could take care of it, Travis reached out to straighten the tie. “Do you want me to teach you how?”

Nicholas knew Travis was sincere in his apology, but the initial jab still stung slightly. He’d never really had any self-esteem issues, and insults usually tended to just bounce right off him, but when it was Travis flinging the insults, it hurt.

“No,” he said. “No one knows the difference unless they tug on it, anyway.”

Travis stopped fiddling with it, getting the hint. “‘Travis, please stop.’ Isn’t that the sort of thing we’re supposed to be working on right now?”

Nicholas sighed. “Please stop,” he said tiredly.

Travis smiled weakly at him. “Think you might be a little too old for positive reinforcement?”

“Yes,” Nicholas said simply. He had no idea what sort of embarrassing thing Travis would have had in mind, and wanted to stop it from happening before it even started.


The cab ride was quiet, and felt like one of the longest cab rides Travis had ever endured. They couldn’t arrive quickly enough, and yet, Travis was starting to feel like he didn’t want to arrive at all. Twice, he started to voice this concern, but both times, he managed to hold back, convincing himself that it was just nerves, and that everything would be fine.

Everything was fine, until they stepped out of the cab and Nicholas paid the driver. Travis started to walk to the front doors, but he turned suddenly, his head down as he grabbed Nicholas tightly and pulled him down the sidewalk.

“I can’t do this,” he said quickly. “I thought I could, but I can’t. I want to be sick.”

“Okay.”

Travis had been expecting some sort of rally of moral support from Nicholas, and was surprised when it didn’t happen.

“I’m not going to tell you what to do, because I don’t know what to do,” Nicholas said, letting Travis lead him away.

“You sure?” Travis asked, suddenly not sure if Nicholas was really the best person to be giving this sort of advice.

Nicholas couldn’t help but laugh slightly. “Would you rather I drag you in there, myself?” he asked.

“No.” It came out rather more frightened that Travis had intended. “No. I just... I don’t know what to do.”

Nicholas looked around. “I think I saw a pub on the way over,” he suggested. “Go for a pint?”

“Yeah, okay.”

Travis followed Nicholas until they found a pub (whether it was the one Nicholas saw, they couldn’t figure out), and after about twenty minutes, he’d managed to calm down.

“I swear I was having a heart attack,” Travis said, turning his pint glass slowly on the table.

“You were not,” Nicholas told him.

“How do you know?”

“You just weren’t.” The pub turned out to be a fairly small one with an even smaller drinks selection, and Nicholas was not at all happy with the lager he had ordered. “It was probably a panic attack, or something.”

“Is that anything like a heart attack?” Travis asked.

Nicholas shrugged. “How should I know?” he asked. “I’ve never had either. I just completely shut down.”

Travis laughed slightly. “No, you have a heart attack? You’re gonna die on the job,” he declared. “It’ll be something bloody fucking heroic, too.”

Nicholas was sceptical. “Really, now?” he asked flatly.

“Yeah,” said Travis. “I’ll probably do something stupid, like get pissed drunk and fall down the stairs.”

Nicholas tried to figure out a way to respond to this, and completely failed. “Why are we talking about this?” he asked instead.

“Because it’s true,” Travis insisted. “You’ve always been everyone’s favourite, because you’re better at everything than me. You got better marks, a better record; even your French is better than mine.”

“I’m nobody’s favourite!” Nicholas insisted. He would have pointed out that the only reason his French was better than Travis’ was because he’d had a seven-year head start with it, but he figured that remark wouldn’t go over too well.

“You are,” Travis said.

Nicholas suddenly wished they were talking about how they were each going to die again, because this conversation had somehow managed to be even worse.

“Whose?” he asked.

Travis took a moment to consider this. “Janine,” he said.

Nicholas shook his head. “Well, I should hope so,” he said. “I am dating her, so she hardly counts.”

“Maybe I wanted to date her, and she just picked you.”

Nicholas had a hard time believing this somehow. “Did you?” he asked flatly.

“No,” Travis admitted. “But what if I did? I did try to chat her up, and she still picked you.”

“You were also chatting up Denise and the barmaid,” Nicholas pointed out. “At the same time. Of course she ignored you.”

“Just like everybody.”

Nicholas, once again, found himself terribly confused. “What are you saying?” he asked. “You want a girlfriend? Is that what this is about?”

“No! I don’t want a girlfriend,” Travis said, bordering on a tone that suggested a tantrum was imminent. “That’s the last fucking thing I want. I just want to stop being second best at everything.”

“Where did all this come from?” Nicholas asked carefully. It wasn’t at all what he was expecting, and he was loathe to think of Gene Hunt actually being right about something.

“I don’t know,” Travis admitted. “But I’m sick of it.”

They were quiet for a long time, neither wanting to say anything. Nicholas just stared at his lager while Travis picked apart a small wicker basket, leaving flakes all over the table.

“You’re not, you know,” Nicholas said finally.

“Not what?” Travis was deliberately holding down any emotional outburst that was threatening to make an idiot of him right there in the pub.

“Second best.” Nicholas was avoiding eye contact, instead still focusing on his pint. “You’re the only person I’ve ever considered a friend, even if you are determined to give me a stroke some days.”

“That’s really fucking sad,” Travis said, pointedly ignoring the fact that he did feel the same way about Nicholas. “I don’t count as your friend. Siblings are exempt from that sort of thing.”

“If anything, it would probably make more sense if we didn’t get on,” Nicholas pointed out. “You took over my room, you took all of Mum’s attention, and you’ve never stopped following me around. But I’m glad for it. Do you know what I did at school, when I wasn’t in class?”

Travis snorted. “What?”

“I stayed in my dorm and studied, because I was still getting beaten up by the other kids,” Nicholas said. “And do not tell Mum I told you that.”

Travis looked up at him suddenly. “Are you fucking serious?” he asked. “That was the whole reason they sent you there in the first place.”

“And I felt terrible for it, because I didn’t want Dad to think it had been a waste of money,” Nicholas admitted. “It completely stopped finally sometime around sixth form, but by then I had a routine going, so really, nothing changed. I’d still just stay in my dorm.”

Travis dragged his hands down his face. “Why are you telling me this?” he asked.

“Because you didn’t wind up costing Mum and Dad thousands of pounds just so you could go get bullied by a different group of kids,” Nicholas said. “God knows how, but you managed to stop getting bullied and get caught up in a state school, and then went on to do well in university. I never could have done that.”

This had all been news to Travis, and it wasn’t news he’d wanted to hear. Somehow, it only made him feel worse about himself.

“While we’re confessing,” he said. “I probably shouldn’t have finished university at all. I cheated my way through every single maths class I ever took. I can still barely do multiplication tables.”

“I know,” Nicholas said quietly.

“You know?” Travis hadn’t been expecting that, either. “And you, of all people, didn’t say anything?”

“Our first year, you’d fallen asleep with your lights on,” Nicholas explained. “I went in to turn them off, and couldn’t help but notice that you’d been copying something into your own handwriting. It didn’t take a detective to work out what you were doing. I never said anything, because I knew that getting kicked out of university wouldn’t have done you any good.”

“Well... thanks. My only other option would have been going to work for Dad. I didn’t want to do that.” Travis sighed deeply and stood up. “This beer is disgusting. Let’s go home.”

“All right,” Nicholas said as he stood up and followed Travis out. “You get the cab. I paid for the last one, and the drinks.”

“That’s fair,” Travis agreed.

He didn’t feel much better than he had when they’d come in, but he didn’t feel any worse, either. And that had to count for something.

Travis carefully walked into the sitting room, finding all the lights out. He moved back behind the sofa, leaning over it to look at Nicholas.

“Nick?” he asked quietly. “I’m gonna order something for supper. Do you want anything?”

“No,” Nicholas said, just as quietly.

“Want me to put the kettle on?” Travis asked.

“No.”

Travis hung around for just a few more moments before retreating to his room. After he phoned in his order, he pulled out one of the mice from the cage and let it wander around on his bed while he idly played the latest FIFA title on his PS2. He kept the volume low, paying more attention to any sounds that might have come from the sitting room. The only sound that did come from that direction was a knock on the door, and as it cut through the silence of the flat, Travis quickly turned off his game, put the mouse back in his cage, and rubbed a bit of sanitiser onto his hands.

“Lights,” he announced as he came to the sitting room.

He flicked them on before answering the door, paying the delivery boy.

“I know you said you’re not hungry, but I got you some pad thai in case you get that way,” Travis said, putting the paper carton on the coffee table. “Try to eat something, kay?”

He didn’t wait around for Nicholas to respond and made tracks back to his bedroom, turning out the lights as he went. Nicholas just needed space and quiet, and while Travis was more than happy to give him those things, he kept his bedroom door open so he could at least be able to hear if anything happened. Nothing usually did happen, but on the off chance, he didn’t want to miss it.

He put on a DVD and let it play through the credits before going back out to put his leftovers in the refrigerator. On the way, he stopped to grab Nicholas’ as well, completely unsurprised to find that he hadn’t even touched it.

“Is he all right?” Nicholas asked as Travis started making his way back out to the bedroom.

“Who?” he asked, a little startled at the sudden conversation.

“Dr Sandhu.”

Nicholas was still lying on the sofa, and had hardly moved since Travis got back home, but Travis knew he’d been awake the whole time.

“Yeah, he’s fine,” Travis said, moving closer to the sofa. “Reckons his nose is broken, but he didn’t seem to act like it was a big deal.”

Nicholas was quiet for a long time, and Travis gave him time to compose his next thought.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he said finally.

“Don’t be like that,” Travis said. “You did everything you’re meant to, and he’s not pressing charges. I told him next time to just let you walk away.”

“We should be setting the example,” Nicholas said.

“It was a reflex,” Travis reminded him. “You were upset. Hell, I’d have probably hit him in the same circumstances.”

Nicholas hummed disapprovingly.

“Take tomorrow off,” Travis said. “I’ll cover for you. I already talked to Sergeant Clarke about it. Well, texted him, but the same thing.”

When Nicholas failed to respond, Travis got up and returned to his room. If he’d be going in the next morning, he figured he might as well get to bed at a decent hour.


When Travis left the flat, Nicholas had still barely moved. His eyes were closed, but Travis had a feeling that he still wasn’t asleep. He had no idea that Nicholas had not only been up and moving around, but had even gone off to do something that Travis would have considered fairly stupid. For a moment, he considered phoning Hannah to come check on him, but decided against it, on the grounds that it would likely just cause more problems. If he’d known about Nicholas having turned himself in, he would have phoned Hannah.

But Travis knew exactly what would happen once he left. Eventually, Nicholas would get up, and start going mad and scrubbing every item in the flat to within an inch of its life. Not wanting to be around to get in the way of Nicholas’ second stage, he made early plans to find a reason to get home late.

The plan, as it happened, wound up being the pub. Well, Milliways, and while it didn’t actually allow for Travis to get home any later than usual, it did from his perspective put off going home. Of course, he hadn’t expected to run into goddamn Hunt again, which had just completely soured his entire evening. He waited around at the Bar, giving himself plenty of time to cool down and stop being irrationally upset at Nicholas before going back home. He’d expected to find the entire flat upended while Nicholas coped, but was rather unpleasantly surprised to find this not the case.

The flat had not been completely upended, and nothing had been scrubbed or hoovered. Instead, every single thing of Nicholas’ had vanished.

“Nicky?” Travis called cautiously through the quiet flat. “You all right, mate?”

He made his way to Nicholas’ bedroom, and almost felt sick. It was empty. He’d left behind the bed and wardrobe, but everything else was gone. Travis knew logically where it had all gone, but the fact that it was gone to begin with was terrifying. He didn’t know why it was terrifying – just that it was.

Nicholas had moved out. He’d been saying he was going to, but Travis never managed to believe it until now. He thought – no, knew – that Nicholas would chicken out at the last minute, but he hadn’t. He’d gone, and left Travis to find a half-empty flat.

Travis stumbled into the bathroom and was sick.

Travis had learned something rather interesting recently, and he’d been spending time trying to figure out how to capitalise on this new information.

After much thought and deliberation, he decided that a pet shop would be the best way to handle the situation. After a bit of phoning around, he found one close to Regents Park that carried white mice, as well as all the sorts of things that white mice generally like having around.

He hadn’t expected for two little mice to need quite so many accessories, or for all those accessories to cost quite so much, but he reasoned that the price would be worth it in the end.

As he tried to flag down a taxi, which hadn’t been too terribly easy with his arms full of boxes, his mobile rang. In the shuffle to get at it, he nearly dropped everything.

“Make it quick,” he answered, finally managing to flag down a taxi.

“Where to, sir?” the cabbie asked.

“Glentworth. Number twenty-eight.” Travis loaded up the mice and all their toys into the back of the cab. He’d managed to walk to the pet shop, but walking home didn’t seem like it would be particularly easy.

“Travis, are you busy?” It was Hannah, the second oldest of his four younger sisters.

“Sort of,” he said, once he was settled in the back of the cab. “Just picking up some stuff for Nicky. Why?”

“Why do you get to call him Nicky?” Hannah asked.

“Because I hit him back.” This was, of course, a bit of a lie, since Nicholas never actual hit Travis.

“Oh. Well, my car is doing something strange, and I can’t get it started,” Hannah said. “Mum and Dad are in France – they went early this year – and Nick’s even worse with cars than I am.”

“God, no. Don’t call Nick. Let me get this stuff home, and I’ll be right over.”

Once home, he told the cabbie to wait for him. He took everything upstairs, quickly set up the mice in Nicholas’ bedroom, and took the cab out to Islington to Hannah’s flat, where he was greeted by her standing on the side of the road, next to her Ford Mondeo.

“What’s going on?” he asked, peering under the bonnet.

“I don’t know,” Hannah said. “It makes this terrible noise, and there’s lots of smoke. It was working fine yesterday.”

Travis frowned. “Can you start it for me?” he asked.

Hannah got into the car and tried to start it, but just as she said, it let off a terrible wailing screech and put off quite a bit of smoke. Shaking his head, Travis gave her the sign to kill the engine, and set about poking at bits of it. As he did, something caught the corner of his eye, and he was struck with an idea. He opened the oil cap and pulled out the dipstick.

“Hannah?” he asked. “Darling. My favourite sister.”

“Don’t say that,” Hannah said. “Every time you do, you follow it up with something horrible.”

Travis ignored her. “You change your fluids recently?” he asked.

“Yeah, just yesterday. Why?”

She came round to the front of the car, and Travis held up the dipstick, which was coated in a translucent orange-blue slime.

“Antifreeze doesn’t go in your oil.”

As Hannah quietly whined to herself, Travis replaced the dipstick and cap and closed the bonnet.

“You’re gonna have to call Tony for this one,” Travis said. “Sure he’ll give you a deal. He always does.”

“Can’t you fix it?” Hannah asked. “I need my car.”

“I only worked there cause Dad made me,” Travis said, referring to the garage Patrick used to own, and had recently sold to Tony Williams. “I’ve forgotten most of what I learned.”

Travis pulled her into a hug. “You’ll be fine,” he told her. “You’re one of Tony’s biggest customers. He loves you.”

“I know,” Hannah said. “That’s why I don’t want to take it to him.”


“Where have you been?”

Travis paused as he stepped in the door. “Hello to you, too,” he said. He put his coat up on the hook and kicked off his shoes. “Hannah fucked up her car again. I was helping her with that.”

“Mind telling me what this is?” Nicholas asked stiffly.

Travis looked up, trying not to smile when he saw the white mice on the kitchen table. “New friends,” he said. “Since you’ve got so much in common and all.”

Nicholas went very calm and very quiet. “Who told you?” he asked.

Travis only shrugged. “Told me what?”

“You know what.”

“I don’t.”

This was, of course, also a lie. He knew exactly why Nicholas was so upset, which had been the point from the beginning.

“Who?” Nicholas demanded.

Travis shrugged. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Goodbye.” Nicholas made very quick tracks for the door, barely remembering to fetch his jacket on the way out.

Once Nicholas was gone, Travis finally let himself laugh.

“Come on,” he said, picking up the mice’s cage. “You can come stay in my room.”