"I actually remember getting that storyline and being incredibly upset about it. And it wasn't because Brenda was losing Dylan. I thought that it was really wrong that we were putting that out there, that we were saying, 'Yes, it's okay for a best friend to fall in love with her best friend's boyfriend and cheat with him.' Where's loyalty, where's friendship? And isn't loyalty the most important thing in this world? Along with love, those are two of the things I grew up valuing the most … I mean, if you can't trust your best friend, who can you trust?" - Shannen Doherty, Glamour in April 2012
xx
The sun streamed through thin curtains, overpowering weak blinds that did little for shade. She groaned and rolled over, reaching for her bedside table.
Her hand clutched at the empty air. In the absence of furniture, she awoke and realized the exact distance between herself and her bedroom.
Disoriented, her eyes darted around her old room, collecting the pieces of the previous night to figure out when she finally managed to fall asleep.
The Silver clan were the first to leave, followed by Andrea and her daughter. A wasted Valerie collapsed in Steve's arms, who heroically volunteered to drop her off at her hotel and departed with Madeline trailing behind.
The twins sat up until the wee hours with Dylan and Kelly, engaging in various board games before Kelly pulled out their high school yearbook to collective groans.
She and Brandon took to the master bedroom. With a whispered goodbye to Brenda and a goodnight embrace, Dylan headed home.
"Phone for you, Bren," said her brother as he entered the room and held out his own mobile. "Didn't realize having you in town would mean I'm back to delivering messages."
She looked at him strangely, attempting to deduce who would be calling him to get to her.
"Hello?"
"You know, if we're going to be friends again, you should really consider giving me your number."
"Hi Dylan," she said with a small smile, "I'll take that under advisement. Do you have an international plan?"
"I can get one," he said breezily. "What are you up to today?"
"Not sure. Let me ask," she replied, cupping her hand over the mobile, "Bran!"
He popped his head back into the room.
"Yeah?"
"What are we doing today?"
"Well, Kel and I are planning to tour some venues, set up our wedding registry and then pick up Sammy from Jackie's. You can come along, if you want."
"No thanks, I'd rather stack hay," she said, placing the phone back to her ear.
Brandon's face contorted in various mocking expressions before whispering for her to hurry up with his phone.
"Looks like I'm free."
"Great!" he said, "Jackie and Mel took Sammy for the day, Donna is in the office prepping for her big show and David's laying down a track. I'm stuck watching their girls after my offer in the Pit. Feel like keeping me company?"
"What, you can't handle Joni, Kelsea and Brielle all on your own?"
"Oh, I can definitely take care of the Silver offspring myself. Just thought their absent aunt might want to help to spend a little more time with them than only one night."
She glowered at the phone.
"You're as bad as Steve."
"Hey, whatever works," he said with a hint of satisfaction, "so what time should I pick you up?"
"Um," she hesitated, "when do you need to be there?"
"Quarter to ten."
"Ah, give me fifteen."
"Okay, but you better not be on Walsh time."
"Yes, Sergeant," and with a giggle, she ended the call.
"Did Brenda Walsh just giggle," Brandon asked, grabbing at his phone, "during a conversation with Dylan McKay?" His eyebrow rose in expectant fashion.
"Goodbye, Brandon," she said and shut the door to change into a more appropriate ensemble for a day with the Silver girls.
He met her in the foyer at the bottom of the stairs, examining his watch.
"You're five minutes over."
"That's barely Walsh time," she pointed out.
"It's also not on time," he said and opened the door.
She slid into his car, a slick Porsche Cayenne in a soft, royal blue.
"Still driving European, I see."
"Why fix what isn't broken?" he asked, looking over her ensemble with an appreciative grin before adjusting the overhead mirror.
They drove through West Los Angeles in idle discussion, Brenda's interest resting more with the scenery than the man beside her.
The open window welcomed a whiff of sea air, wafting in from the eventually spotted sun-speckled water. It was the kind of Southern Californian autumn day that Steve utilized for gloating, especially when the blustery rain lashed over London whilst he floated in his outdoor pool.
Dylan parked the car in front of a quaint three-story abode in Ocean Park. Cutting off the ignition, he turned to grab a canvas bag off of his backseat.
"I like to be prepared," he told her with a wink and helped her out of the car.
A disheveled Donna threw open the door, meeting them halfway down the stone-lined path. She held a hairclip between her teeth, a notepad in her hand and a melody in her voice.
"Dyl, thank you so much for doing this. They're still asleep and shouldn't be too much of a problem. Coffee's on the counter, doughnuts are in the fridge. I'm supposed to be off today, but we've run into an issue with the models that really must be fixed before the show next weekend and there are a few designs I still need to finish and David has to work and Mom is at the spa -"
"One, two, three," Dylan said as he held her shoulders.
She expelled three deep breaths before noticing Brenda.
"Bren! You're here, too!" she said and though she appeared perplexed, her smile gleamed.
"Off you trot," Dylan said, removing the notepad from her hand whilst he kissed her cheek.
"I'll be back before you know it," Donna said, quickly embracing the two.
"House rules," he said, holding up the notepad and looking at Brenda, "she does this every time."
They entered into the spacious home, decorated in a way that was unequivocally Donna Martin with a splash of David Silver. A pot of sunflowers sat near the bottom of the grand staircase, light and airy curtains hung over the windows and the world's incomparable musicians ran over one wall whilst family photos outlined the opposite.
Dylan excused himself to check on the girls before joining Brenda in the living room.
"All good?" she asked.
"All good," he said, handing her a doughnut.
She licked the cream filling slowly. He reached over to wipe a dollop off of her nose and retreated into his thoughts as she ate.
"What happened to us, Bren?" he said after some time, examining an invisible spot on her shoulder. "No matter how many times we broke up, you were still there for me when it really counted and I tried to be there for you. But," his gaze landed somewhere above her head, "when B vanished without a trace, you didn't let me."
"I think we stopped trusting each other, Dyl. And when we no longer had trust, we didn't have anything," she said, fidgeting with her fingers.
He stilled her movement with the touch of his hand.
"Do you think you can ever trust me again?" he asked. His rich, intoxicating eyes peered into hers. His voice failed to disguise a desperate plea.
"I think that's possible," she said. "Can you trust me?"
"I already do," he said softly and left it at that.
Brenda bent to tidy an overflowing toy chest, organizing picture books, blocks and what she immediately recognized as some of Brandon's childhood toys.
Cindy in particular had stayed in contact with Brenda's old friends when she herself did not, sending birthday cards and Christmas cards or presents for their respective children.
"Bren," he said hesitantly as he grabbed a cushion off of an armchair and began to fiddle with it, "you know yesterday, at the Pit? When David and Andrea were sharing regrets?"
"Yeah," she said.
"Well," he continued, examining the cushion's striped pattern, "I almost joined in."
"Into the birthday cake?" she asked with a slight laugh.
"Brenda," his tone sombered, "I have made the same birthday wish every year since I turned eighteen." He swallowed. "And it has never come true."
"For an endless supply of Porsches?" she asked, relocating to the sofa.
"No."
"To meet Rimbaud?" she guessed, holding her knees against her chest and tucking in her head.
"Nope, although I wouldn't be opposed."
"To star alongside the Marx Brothers?"
He sat on the edge of the coffee table, placing both of his hands on her knees.
"What Steve said, about turning back the clock?"
She mulled over allowing his hands to remain in their position or smacking them away.
"Well, Brenda, if I could turn back the clock, I'd redo that entire summer."
Her head jerked upward to meet his intense stare.
"Which summer would that be?" she asked through the feeling of a chip lodged in her throat.
"You know exactly which summer," he replied, voice barely above a whisper.
"Dylan -"
"Brenda, cheating on you with Kelly was without a doubt the worst thing I've ever done and I've done a lot of stupid shit."
Her heart began to line dance in her chest, thumping out a rhythm long since buried.
"Dylan, telling me about Sammy was one thing. Apologizing for what happened in London was nice, really nice and had it happened years ago, we could've salvaged something. But this? Where the hell has this come from?"
"Regular AA and NA attendance does wonders for the male psyche, Bren," he said with a cocky smile.
His hand grazed up to her hair as he continued.
"Ironic, isn't it? I made my best choice in the Bel Age and I made my worst, too. For the next two years, every time I was with Kel, I'd think of your face when we told you what we did and hear you tell me that you hated me all over again. I couldn't bear to think of how much we hurt you, how much I hurt you," he said and a tear rolled down either side of his cheeks.
"But," she said, thinking back to whether the Dylan McKay of senior year or in his first year at university displayed any of the emotions he spoke of now, "you stayed with Kel."
"She called me right before," his voice hitched, "right before Jack died. If he hadn't brought the phone out, I would've been in his place." He looked at her, emotions rising in his features. "Did you know that?"
Brenda shook her head and instinctively placed her hand over his when he mentioned his father, whom she heard had both returned from the dead and perished all over again.
When Jack McKay died the second time, she reflexively picked up the phone to call Dylan upon receiving the news from her brother. Waiting with bated, anxious breath, she heard Kelly's chipper voice come through the line and, a painful throb invading her throat, she promptly hung up the phone without one word.
She never tried to contact him again, not even when he left unanswered voicemails for her.
"I guess I mistook gratitude for love. I still fully believe I would've died in that car bomb if it weren't for Kelly, but staying with her because of it was asinine. We fought all the damn time, when we weren't - when we weren't -"
She nodded, catching his drift and thankful he chose to avoid speaking further on the subject.
"And that's the only time we ever seemed happy, too," he said. "We didn't have to sit and dwell when we were plastered to each other. It was easier to not think that way. I'm convinced Kel felt the same, that if we spent more time talking than doing other things, it would open up all kinds of emotions about how we began and that moment in the park when you rightfully turned your back on both of us."
Her eyes squeezed shut, praying to avoid catapulting back to the day when her world exploded around her.
"So instead, we would talk about shit that happened in our childhood. I admit, I was the one who usually brought those stories up. I was trying to find this connection with her, something beyond a childhood friendship, trying to convince myself that choosing her and hurting you, making you," his voice dropped to a pained whisper, "hate me was worth it. I even forced her to watch the classics, but I could tell she wasn't into it."
An unentered Marx Brothers film, a frilly shirt, a long grey coat and a boy slipping from his cool persona into a lost little child.
They, too, had begun with a classic. She swallowed, wondering if the younger Dylan McKay viewed their relationship as so inconsequential that he held no qualms in trying to recreate their start with Kelly Taylor - especially since Brenda had only gone to Paris at his urging.
She found herself questioning if he pushed the matter simply to make himself available to other girls, other girls like her former best friend.
"Don't get me wrong," he said quickly, "I did fall for Kel, but not when I let you, her or even myself think I did. Brenda, when Kel and I were in Europe, all she wanted to do was shop which yeah, makes sense - it is Kelly. But it made me think of how you and I would be in that French village, how I'd sit in the coffee shop reading and instead of yammering on, you'd probably sit there and read, too. You wouldn't storm off and pretend to spend the night with some guy." He paused. "Well, you might've stormed off, but I would've caught you."
Her brows furrowed.
"I thought the two of you had a wonderful time in France, until the Left Bank."
"Is that what Kelly told you?" he asked, eyes locked on hers.
"Yeah, at my farewell party before I moved back to Minnesota."
"Maybe that's what she wanted you to believe, but trust me when I say it was the trip from hell," he bluntly replied. "And then I called you when I got to Avignon, but you -"
"Missed the call," she finished in a soft tone.
"Which in hindsight probably wouldn't have been fair to you, anyway, after everything. Face it, Bren, if it hadn't been for Jack staging his death, you never would've spoken to me again and I would've deserved it, too."
"That's not true, Dylan."
"So you're telling me that if one of the worst moments of my life hadn't happened, you would've still been able to put your hate aside and move past what I did?"
"I don't know," she hesitated, "because it did happen and you were hurt far worse than I've ever been. I couldn't bring myself to keep hating you when you were in that much pain."
"And that's why there's only one Brenda Walsh," he said in a gentle manner, resting his head on the pillow placed in her lap.
Absentmindedly threading her fingers through his hair, she attempted to reconcile his multiple confessions with the events of their past.
Dylan McKay just kept dropping one meteor after another.
"So that day on the pier -" she started.
"When you turned me down," he murmured, twirling a strand of her hair between his fingers.
"You wanted to get back together?" she asked as her mind worked overtime to complete the puzzle.
"Hell yeah, I did."
"But I saw you, Dyl. You couldn't stand to see Kel with that one frat boy; oh, what's his name, that one who really had it out for Steve -"
"I did hate to see her with that sleazy asshole John Sears," he hissed, "but nowhere close to how much I hated seeing you with Stewie. Truth is, Bren, I fell hard for Kelly after you left for London and I stopped loving her just before I met Toni."
"Wait, you started to love Kel after I left?" she asked, finding her voice.
"Yes," he said, jiggling his knee.
"But that doesn't make sense, Dylan. You got back together with her."
"After you encouraged me, Bren. Hearing you try to save my relationship or lack thereof with Kelly, I knew there was no hope in us being anything more than friends. And what can I say, I was a dumb college boy and the woman could kiss."
Her mind reeled. The threat of a migraine loomed.
"When you picked me up from Palm Springs, you said -"
"Did I, Bren? Or did you?"
She let her thoughts wander to the moment when he rescued her from an incinerating road trip with Stuart Carson and answered her difficult confession with his own lack of being in love with her.
"Shit," she said in a gasp, "you - you never said you weren't in love with me."
"Brenda, it took everything in me to not correct you that night and let's get one thing straight: you didn't lose me. I lost you - twice." He glanced at her, his gaze clouding. "I couldn't cheat on Kel and do the same thing to her that we did to you - it's not like you would've been game for it, anyway - but I gotta admit the thought did cross my mind to dump her, especially when she reacted to your jail stint the way she did."
"But, Dylan, I sat there, let myself be vulnerable about a difficult subject I swore I'd never bring up and you didn't give any indication that you felt the same," she said, rubbing her forehead in a circular motion.
"Maybe it was my damn pride; you had only just dumped Stewie, a man with whom, let me remind you, you ran off to Vegas to elope," he threw her a teasing gaze, "and there you were, telling me you were still in love with me. I mean, I tried to open up about how I felt when you and he got engaged, but you thought it was just a ploy to get you to break things off and I figured it was easier to play along. Maybe I was worried I would just be a rebound to you."
"Dylan, you could never be a rebound."
"But I made you feel like one, right? That last time before London? Right after I'd broken things off with Kel?"
"That was all me, Dyl. I'm the one who came over. I'm the one who asked you for something to come back to."
"And I'm the one who wasn't about to turn down your offer," he argued, taking both of her hands in his.
"But we know what happened next. I went to London and never heard from you again, until you showed up that night."
"I'm sorry I didn't call or write you," he whispered, trailing his fingers along her wet cheek.
"I'm sorry I stopped writing you," she said in a low murmur.
"I'm sorry I left London," he said, his face inching closer.
"I'm sorry I didn't try to get you to stay," she replied, her breath catching.
"I'm sorry I went back to Kel."
"I'm sorry I kissed Rick."
"I'm sorry I kissed Sarah."
"I'm sorry I kissed Tim."
"Who's Tim?" he asked, face scrunching.
"Cardio funk guy," she said with a slight roll of her eyes.
"Oh yeah, that guy," Dylan said and his eyes flashed, "he dated Kelly briefly too, didn't he?"
"Not really," she replied, "they went on one date and she was bored the whole time."
He chuckled and looked down at their intertwined hands.
"I'm sorry I lied to my parents about seeing you," she whispered, "but only because sneaking around hurt you."
"I'm sorry I ran off that night after Jim and I came to blows and left you crying on the lawn," he admitted.
"I'm sorry I agreed to give you that damn ultimatum in the first place."
"I'm sorry I slept with Val."
"You slept with Val?" she asked, her jaw dropping.
"You - you didn't know?" he said, alarm invading his features.
"God, Dylan, first Kel and then Val? Why is it always my friends? I don't know if I can forgive you for this."
"Please, Bren, I -" he said as his face fell in horror.
"Kidding, Dyl. Of course I know you slept with Val. She's always been pretty cryptic about her time here, or maybe I didn't want to hear it, but she did tell me all about the guys she slept with, including you." She smiled slyly. "And, sorry to break it to you, babe; she said you weren't that great of a lover. In fact, I'm fairly certain I remember her saying David had much more stamina."
He whacked her with a throw pillow.
Securing her own ammunition, she hit him back with a second. They persisted in the pillow fight until Dylan fell over on the sofa and pulled her down with him, laughing.
"But more than anything else, Bren," he said, pressing her closer against him, "I'm so damn sorry I went with the easy choice, the drama-free choice, the one that didn't hurt as much, didn't come with overly involved parents that pulled the rug out from under you the second you disappointed them. I'm sorry for being the one to take your best friend from you. I'm sorry you had to deal with all of that in your senior year, when it should've been one of the best times of your life."
His thumbs swiped the tears cascading down her cheeks. His lips moved to kiss her hair.
"And I'm sorry it took me this long to say it."
Overcome with emotion, she reverted back to the desolate seventeen-year-old who put on a brave face in school and sobbed when alone in her room. Losing Dylan was wretched enough; losing the boy she loved and her best friend at the same time because of their choice to hook up behind her back resulted in trust issues from then on.
He continued to wipe her tears. Putting his lips to her temple, Dylan's eyes bore into hers as he leaned in.
"Uncle Dylan!"
They sprang apart and looked at the little girl.
"Bri, honey, when did you wake up?" asked Dylan, opening an arm to her while he kept the other around Brenda.
She ran over and hopped up, positioning herself to lay across both of their laps.
"Movie?" Brielle asked, snuggling into Brenda.
"Is that okay with Mommy?" asked Dylan.
She grinned, displaying a toothless gap.
"Bren? What does the checklist say about watching a movie during naptime?"
Brenda grabbed for the memo pad, stretching out in a way that would allow her to reach it and still let Brielle hold her current position.
"Got it," she said, "'If any child wakes during naptime and requests to watch a movie, please ensure it is a movie with a G or PG rating. PG is pushing it. Please note our girls may fall asleep in the middle.'"
"That's what it says?" he asked, to which Brenda showed him the proof. "Okay, Bri, which movie?"
""Stasia!" she said enthusiastically.
"Do you know a movie called 'Stasia?" asked Dylan, perplexed.
"She might mean Anastasia," Brenda replied. "Do you mean Anastasia, baby?" she asked, looking down at Brielle.
"Ana stasia!"
Tickling the two girls until Brenda cried for mercy, Dylan stood to set up the animation.
"A lost princess who crosses a sea to find her way home," he said, latching his gaze on her, "well, isn't that fitting."
"I take it you've seen this movie before."
"Let's just say Mads had a phase."
"A phase?" she asked, scooping up Brielle.
"She thought she was the lost princess of the Romanov dynasty and tried to talk us into buying her a ticket to Paris for her to reunite with her dear grandmama."
Brenda laughed.
"Did you buy her a ticket to Paris?"
"Of course not," he said, "Steve promised her they would go to London to see you, instead, and suddenly Madster decided she was actually Annie James."
"Annie James?" she asked, twisting Brielle's sleep rumpled hair into two side braids.
"That English girl from the Lohan version of The Parent Trap," he said, placing an arm on the sofa behind her, "she told Sanders you were her real mother and she was going to find you and stay with you forever."
"What did Steve say to that?" she giggled.
"He told her good luck and that when she did find you, to please inform you that we would all like you to come back at some point in your hopefully very long life."
She tucked her lip between her teeth. His gaze became doleful.
"Guess she didn't find me."
"Guess not," he said and wordlessly shifted her against his chest with little protest from Brenda.
Her gaze fell to Brielle, whose transfixed stare never left the screen.
"Dylan?" she said, glancing upward into pensive eyes focused on a cheeky cartoon bat.
"Mmm?" he said as his hand started to draw circles along her back.
"I'm sorry I never returned your calls."
"It's okay, Bren," he breathed, walking his fingers across her hand, "I'm just glad you didn't shut us all out when we lost your brother."
"Well, Steve can be extremely persistent," she smiled.
"You gotta swear never to tell him this, but maybe we can all be a little more like Steve Sanders."
"Cross my heart."
He grinned and listened to her hum the movie's soundtrack against Brielle's hair.
"Now that we've apologized for pretty much everything we've ever done to each other," she said, peeking at him through the little girl's braids, "I think this can be one hell of a friendship, Mr. McKay."
"Right, Ms. Walsh," he said as he rapidly slid his tongue over his upper lip, "friends."
"Are you okay, Dylan?"
"Who, me? I've got two of my favorite girls in my arms and a boulder the size of Russia off of my chest. I finally made it up to my younger self for saying what he never could and you're talking to me again. Bren, what more could a guy ask for?"
"You always were such a flatterer."
"What can I say? You make it easy."
They heard the pitter patter of tiny feet and turned to see the other two Silver girls run into the room.
"Woah! Careful!" said Dylan, catching Joni before she cannonballed onto the sofa.
"Here, Kelsea, come sit by me," Brenda said, patting the spot next to her.
With Brielle in her lap, Kelsea curled into her side, Dylan holding Joni on her other and the animated beauty of her beloved Paris playing on the screen, Brenda couldn't remember the last time she felt half as content.
"Hey, guys. Wake up. We're home."
A light shake of her shoulder came with the realization that the group had all fallen asleep and she had done so in Dylan's arms.
"Donna, David, hi," she said, springing up.
"Hi yourself," said David, smirking over at his wife. "Looks like three months was generous. Only took a day."
"What took a day?" Brenda asked.
"For you two to get back together, obviously," Donna said with a pleased giggle.
"Oh, we're not."
"Not what?"
"Together. We're not together," Brenda rushed, lest the Silvers run to their respective phones and spread false gossip.
"Are you sure, Bren?" asked Donna, hugging her arms around David's neck.
"Yeah, still friends," Dylan said groggily, opening his eyes in response to their loud discussion.
"In the habit of falling asleep on your friends, are we?" David asked teasingly.
"Well, yeah," Brenda said and hurriedly manifested an explanation, "I do it with Levi all the time."
"Levi?" asked Dylan, eyes glazing as he stared at her, "Who's Levi?"
"Levi Akers," she said, "my good friend back home."
"You sure have a lot of good friends, don't you, Bren?" he remarked with a slight edge.
"I guess I do."
"Me, Sanders, Silver, Theo, Levi," he paused and spit out, "Shane."
"Dylan, what the he -" she observed Donna's Folgers-colored eyes widen and caught herself just in time, "heck are you talking about?"
"Nothing," he said, ensuring the Silver girls were off of the sofa before leaping to his feet, "look, just forget it."
He turned to kiss Donna's cheek and thanked their friends for a day with their darling daughters.
Baffled at the display when they spent a lovely afternoon together that she thought once again cemented their relationship, Brenda embraced Donna.
"Call me later?" her friend whispered.
"Sure thing," she said, "bye, David."
"Bye, Bren," he said with a light peck to her forehead.
"I don't know what the hell just happened," she said once they were both outside, "but are you still planning to take me over to Casa Walsh?"
"Of course," he said, appearing to try to cool down from whatever upset him, "hop in."
"Not until you tell me what's wrong."
"It's nothing, Bren, honestly," he said with a loud sigh. "I knew you had a boyfriend. I just didn't expect to hear about him or have you lie about dating him."
"Wait, what?" she asked, more puzzled after stepping outside than she had been in.
"This Levi Akers guy. He's obviously your boyfriend. I don't know why you couldn't tell me after everything we said today."
She blinked twice and spent the next five minutes in a continuous stream of laughter.
"Are you done yet?" he asked, perturbed.
"Yes," she managed, laughing again, "I'm sorry."
"Glad to know I share my feelings with you and you can't stop laughing."
"No, Dylan, it's not that," she laughed once more, "it's just, Levi, well, I don't think he'd be that amorous. I mean, I'm not exactly his type."
"Hard to believe you're not someone's type, Brenda."
"I guarantee you I'm not his."
"Why, does Levi have a thing against Americans?"
"No," she said, giving a short giggle.
"Brunettes?"
"Might be interested in a brunet with one T."
Confusion swam in his eyes.
"Levi is gay, Dylan."
His shock mirrored hers when the director of RADA asked her to stay past the summer session.
"He's gay?"
"Gay and dating my other good friend, Benji."
"God, I'm an idiot," he said, running his hand over his head.
"A very funny idiot," she said, "assuming you weren't letting jealousy get the worst of you, again."
"No," he said, biting his lip, "I lost the right to be jealous over anyone you choose to date a long time ago. Just promise me you won't lie to me about it, especially if we really are going to do this friend thing."
"Okay," she said, allowing a smile to come over her painted lips.
"Tell you the truth, Bren, I figured you'd probably be dating Shane Wachinski or something," he said, opening the car door.
She climbed in and waited for Dylan to get in on the other side.
"Shane?" asked Brenda as he started the engine.
"Yeah, your dear friend Shane," he said, flicking his cryptic gaze over to her before focusing on the road.
"My dear friend Shane who's married to my darling friend Katie," she said, leaning her seat backward.
"No kidding?" he asked, attempting to look at both Brenda and the road. "Shane Wachinski is married?"
"Yes, he's married. And just for the record, I never dated Shane."
"So who are you dating?" he asked. Dylan kept his tone casual, one hand on the steering wheel and the other searching the middle compartment for a cassette to pop in the old tape player.
"Who are you in love with?" she asked in apparent nonchalance.
"Maybe I'll tell you someday," he said, pressing play on the music of their adolescence.
"And when you do, maybe I'll tell you," she replied.
Immediately recognizing the lyrics, she let out a small gasp.
"Dylan."
"This song okay, Bren?" he asked, giving a half-smile.
"Yeah," she said, losing herself in the music, "it's great."
"Great," he echoed, putting out his arm with the palm facing up.
Placing her hand over his palm, Brenda watched as his fingers bent to enclose hers.
"Glad the lost princess decided to come home," he murmured, "and give the fucked up loner boy another chance."
"Dylan, you aren't fucked up or a loner."
"Not anymore, Bren," he allowed, pulling their clasped hands against his cheek, "I have a family. I have friends who've made damn sure to keep me in their lives when anyone else would've gotten the hell out of Dodge. I'm an uncle to four fantastic girls and the godfather to a fifth. And it's all thanks to yours."
She emitted a heavy breath.
"Dyl, my family was the cause of a lot of your pain, especially my father."
"My relationship with Jim has improved exponentially over the years," he said, squeezing her hand.
"Yeah, too bad it didn't happen when it really mattered," she remarked, her voice soured.
A red light allowed him a brief moment to turn his attention fully on her.
"Bren, if it wasn't for your family, if B hadn't taken me home and you hadn't been his sister, there's no way I would've been friends with any of the gang."
"Except Kelly," she reminded him.
"Except Kel," he said, "but we had drifted before you Walshes moved to town. High school was a long way from seventh grade."
She realized their hands were now sitting on his leg and debated taking away hers.
"Cindy has always been very good to me, Mexico aside, and Jimbo and I didn't exactly see eye-to-eye -"
"Understatement of the century," she cut in.
"Yeah, we sure had our problems," he said, evidently flashing to the breakdown of their relationship in the Battle of the Walshes, "but when all is said and done, Bren, I owe your family more than I'll ever be able to repay."
"Dylan, you don't owe us anything."
"No, Brenda. I owe all of you everything."
Another rebuttal forming on the tip of her tongue, she instead opted to slide down the window and welcome in the breeze.
"And to think, in another world, after a different summer, I could've been part of it."
She shook her head and turned to face him, twisting her seatbelt in the process.
"You have always been part of our family, Dylan," she said, "and that will never change."
"Could've been part of it in a much different way," he muttered and they both fell silent.
The beats of the music rippled through the vehicle's tranquility. With their hands still intertwined, they plunged together into the nightmare of a Los Angeles intersection during rush hour and the recollection of her least favorite aspect of life in Beverly Hills.
xx
Honestly, the worst part about Bren/Dyl/Kel is that too many programs from then on decided the major storyline would be two best friends fighting over a guy. So sick of this narrative. And Bran/Kel/Dyl completely trashed my boys.
Now that seasons three and four have been (hopefully) properly dealt with, we can move onto more of the noncanon - ha. Season three and I remain bitter enemies. Season four is enjoyable overall, though there's quite a bit in there I would take a sledgehammer to (Stuart Carson and Lucinda Nicholson, I'm looking at you.)
I recently read part of a pro-DK essay about their season four implied adoration for post-Bren research purposes; you take your implications, I'll take my longing looks.
As always, thank you for the reviews and now that I know I can reply to them directly (weird I didn't know previously,) I shall do so to all.
x-
starlite22 - I do love me some Sailor (Sanders/Taylor.) Just love Brelly a bit more. When it comes to Kel's future, I can see Bran a lot more than Steve. Kind of like how I love Brandea, but can't see them working out in the long run (Jordan Bonner deserved more; Dan Rubin deserved better.) I'm a reformed Kelly Taylor hater - she remains my least favourite of the gang, but had this story started a decade ago, she likely would've been a mega villain.
silentlyreader - I'd already written this chapter before your review, ha! There's also the call in chapter two, when Steve and Bren discussed Val banging Dylan. I think Val would go into a lengthy discussion over exactly who she slept with in the Hills, but I can't see Bren being too keen on hearing about the rest, especially when it came to her former best friend Kelly Taylor.
brendamckay61 and DylanLovesBrenda - Good thing this chapter was waiting in the wings! Hope it lived up to the wait. DLB - I'm halfway through What Happens in Vegas and even though I'm definitely a fade-to-black, third person kind of girl, holy shit, I love it immensely. We seem to have the same idea of Bren and Val. Lost opportunity, for sure.