AN: Lex: Thank you for staying interested and supporting my stories all the time :DD

1st Guest: That is such a good point! Dylan would run away from his problems. James definitely has more Brenda in him than his father, that's true. I also figured Brenda would have mellowed, and it's kinda funny that she has to deal with an angsty teenager that takes after her. I think most parents find that they end up dealing with that. :DD Happy holidays to you, too!

2nd Guest: You've got the letter in this chapter! :D And there's more history to come in the next one coming up.

Jonna: Yes! Exactly haha! Since kids tend to rebel against their parents, I actually got inspired by The Big Bang Theory since Sheldon is so much like Leonard's mother, and Leonard is so much like Sheldon's mother - it seems that they are close because of that connection and familiarity, which also seems to be why they tolerate so much from each other haha. So I did the same with the boys. Brandon would preach right and wrong to his kids, but while saving "the world", Tommy might rebel for attention. James, on the hand, might rebel against Dylan's lack of structure, and he also has the Walsh influence because of Brenda. So I figured it would make the cousins closer than normal, if there's something familiar in the other.

Scratch (The Letter)

Do you ever get weary?

Do you ever get weak?

How do you dream

When you can't fall asleep?

My stubborn will is learning to bend

I've been wondering what you're thinking

Would you still say you love me

I'm so afraid of what you'll say

As soon as Kelly arrived home, she immediately unfolded the letter, as she sat down on the couch.

Kelly,

It's always been easy for me to run away from my problems. But when you have a kid you can't do that. When I couldn't put my thoughts into words, which let's face it is most of the time, I drank to escape my mind. I'm working on that now...

A prominent memory I have is me standing on the Pont des Arts (The bridge of love, where I took you on our holiday after graduation) over the river Seine. It was the first place I went to when I arrived in Paris after I left. I remember crying on that bridge because in that moment, I was mourning my life in Beverly Hills.

I couldn't cope with the loss. The last time you saw me, you caught me with a hooker. And the last time I'll ever see you is in the memory of you standing at my door, crying. I couldn't bear being Dylan McKay anymore. I couldn't live being the guy that lost you.

It didn't get easier once I walked off that bridge. Paris was definitely a mistake. After all, I was supposed to be here with you. It is the home of Parisian love affairs. I passed by the statue of Balzac a few times. But it just reminded me that all the french authors that wrote about this city of love felt about their lovers the way I felt about you. Everywhere I turned I saw you. I was reminded of you when I walked past that narrow alleyway with the cobble stones where we made love. You popped up again when I walked by that little cafe where we had our explosive fight.

The memories were so vivid in my mind, I couldn't shut them off. It's safe to say I wasn't doing well. And I continued to drink. I had finally hit rock bottom one night when I headed into this dark little bar on a corner street.

After ordering quite a few drinks, Dylan spotted a pretty brunette at the bar. She was alone, drinking her wine. And Dylan noticed she was wearing a strappy red dress.

It looked like yours. The one Brandon's hands were wrapped around when Dylan saw them together for the first time. The bitter memory infuriated him. He then got up to approach the woman. Drunkenly stumbling over to her, he could barely stand up let alone speak clearly.

"How much?" He asked

"Quoi?" She turned to face him, she didn't appear friendly at all but that was probably due to a strange man approaching her in a bar.

"Oh sorry." Dylan grumbled, rubbing his forehead, "Combien?"

"Excuse moi?" There was an irritation in her voice. She could tell he was a foreigner from his accent - she hoped she had just misunderstood him.

"Combien pour la nuit?" He sighed. She was furious. This guy just asked her how much she costs for the night.

She threw her drink in his face.

Just then a man can running from the bathroom. Dylan tried wiping his face with his shirt.

"Qu'est ce que c'est?" The man rushed over to the woman. She turned to him and said something. Dylan could barely make out what she was saying, he was so out of it. All he heard was "Cochon." And he knew that meant 'pig'. He was the pig.

The man turned to him and glared, saying some unsavory things in french, basically berating him for assuming his wife was a hooker.

"I'm sorry." Dylan groaned. It wasn't much of an apology. "But it was an honest mistake. I mean... the dress is a bit too revealing, don't you think?"

The husband's fist immediately met Dylan's nose. Dylan was too drunk to be steady on his feet. He tried to dodge the second punch, and defend himself, but failed.

All I remember is falling to the ground. Then, being kicked out by security.

That night I called Iris to check in. She was asking a bunch of questions about my whereabouts and how much I'd been drinking. I was too inebriated to comply, which only angered her more. I just remember telling her not to worry. I then headed for the train station. Paris wasn't for me right now.

The next train to arrive was headed for London. And you know how that went.

Once James was born, I felt like I was in the right place at the right time. Maybe this is where I needed to be. Maybe Balzac led me here. Brenda and I bonded over his work back in high school. And I finally I regained a sense of purpose when I became a father.

I still thought about you in recovery, and of course whenever I wrote. But once I was sober and I had my son in my arms, it got easier to shift my focus. Out of sight, out of mind, they say.

I was honest with Brenda in the beginning. She had a lot of questions. But once she became a mother, as I told you before, it was my job to take care of her. So I never mentioned you again.

Eventually, I blocked it all out. I wouldn't even let myself think of you. It hurt too much, I didn't want to feel that kind of pain again.

The last summer before we moved back, we were in Minnesota, visiting Jim and Cindy. Most of the time they all came down to London, including Brandon and the family. But this particular summer, I didn't want to leave. I wanted to be back... to come home. I can't explain it, something was missing.

I convinced Brenda, and voila! We moved.

I had convinced myself. It had been so long, I had no idea it all would still get to me.

But the more I saw you, the more memories seeped in. And after that conversation at your house, when you asked me if I'd do it all over again if I could go back, I realized I couldn't block out the truth of how I feel forever - no matter how hard I tried. From then on, the memories came flooding in. And that was hell. It was like my soul was was forcing my mind to remember. This internal battle that I had no control over. I knew it had gotten bad when I pictured the last time we made love in my bed (which still is the last time you were in my bed. I can't look at my bed without being haunted and aroused by the image of you sliding in between the sheets with me) even when I was making love to my own wife. I thought I was going crazy, I had truly turned into a french poet who romanticizes his madness. I struggled to understand our connection, and I don't think I could without their help.

Then I found out about Cameron, and how he was conceived on that magical night. I'll never forget that night and now I understood why that memory did come back to haunt me. Because that night, our love made that baby. I'm not going to lie, there was so much regret given how we ended things, and how much we missed out on. But rectifying it with him, settled me for a while. We had something that tied us together. It felt good to be reminded of all the great things about our strong connection.

But we ended up spending more time together, and I could no longer convince myself that this arrangement was enough. The more I tried to convince myself I could block the past, and live with this new normal, the weaker I felt. It got harder and harder until it all felt beyond my control. It started to haunt me, forcing me to face the truth. You're my soul mate, you always have been, you always will be. And no matter how I spin it, we could never just be friends.

Whenever I was around you, touched you, kissed you, I felt that I was home. And once I remembered how that felt, I couldn't give it up again. I started to crave you. I thought I was just acting like a former addict who had to go through the motions but, the truth is, I was craving the feeling of being complete again.

The problem was, I couldn't just go to you and be where I wanted to be. I had a family. I wasn't happy, but I couldn't do it to them. I felt trapped. I found myself thinking about drinking again since I couldn't run away from my problems like in the past. The withdrawal wasn't so bad. I could manage with a couple of drinks here and there. When we began our affair, I didn't need anything else.

When we started up again, I hated that you felt used. I wanted to tell you that wasn't true. I just had to be with you and I didn't know any other way. I'm sorry I didn't tell you I felt. But I thought you'd be better off. I thought it would prevent you from getting attached. And it killed me when you said those words. Hearing 'I love you' from you was like coming up for air after struggling underwater. I was supposed let you go, I was supposed to leave you to heal, but I desired your love so bad. I was trying to be a good husband and father, who didn't let my kid down. I know you wanted a commitment, but I didn't think it could ever work. And if I broke up my son's home for you, and we still couldn't make it work, I'd hate that I let you both down.

But there's no way I could deny my feelings anymore, once you said those three words out loud that was music to my ears.

I know now that all of this had to happen the way it did. You and me... Me going to London... All of it turned out that way so that I'd end up back here. This time, with a bit more wisdom to become the man I'm supposed to be.

I met up with Ben, my old sponsor, and I realized: The reason I couldn't express my feelings wasn't just because I thought it would be better for you if I let you go, and it wasn't just because of my family. It was because I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to make you happy. After that night you got attacked, I thought if I had left you alone, you wouldn't be in this mess. How many tears have you cried because of me? Could I really make you happy? I always thought I could but life has humbled me.

But now I know I don't have a choice, I can't live without you. So I left Brenda.

I won't let you down again. I can't.

There's a piece of me with you every single second of every single day... Everything I've ever written has been about you.

Love, Dylan.

Kelly's eyes widened once she had finished. She was speechless. She sat there, letter in hand, for a good few minutes before catching her breath.

Once she did, she knew she couldn't possibly let this all slide. So she grabbed her car keys and headed back out the door.

"Hi!" Dylan tried to appear subtle, but deep down he was happy Kelly was at his door.

"I read your letter." She confessed. He nodded slowly.

"You wanna come in?" He asked. But she stood there. He observed her and she breathed out. She then leaned on the door frame.

"Thank you for writing it." She finally said. "You're right. It definitely brought some closure..."

Dylan appreciatively nodded again in response, and slowly made his way closer to her.

"I understand how hard it is for you to put your thoughts into words." She began. His eyes stared at her, trying to gauge what she's thinking. The way he always stared at her made her feel vulnerable, like he could see into her soul.

"But..." She said breathlessly, standing up straight now. "The bottom line is you committed to her. In a way that you never did with me."

Dylan exhaled, slightly annoyed. He left her at the door and walked into his living room. She followed him in, frustrated. He began rummaging through things on his desk.

"That's all I wanted, Dylan." She continued when she walked over to the couch. "A sign that you wouldn't run when things got hard. A sign of commitment. Just a sign!"

He stopped and turned back around to face her. He walked over to her, and grabbed her hand. "A sign... like this one?" He dropped something in her hand. She looked down and saw an engagement ring in the palm of her hand.

"What is this?" She whispered, almost to herself.

"...I did commit to you, Kelly. You just didn't notice." He shrugged. "You weren't paying attention."

I'd like to know if you'd be open to starting over from scratch

I'd like to know if you'd be open to giving me a second chance