Author's note:
Thanks for your continuing interest in this story – the reviews are really helpful and motivating. Sorry for the delay in posting this chapter, but I've had zero writing time recently. This was one chapter I wanted to get right, so I didn't want to rush it off just for the sake of posting. Hopefully it'll live up to everyone's expectations! Enjoy! P.S. In case you wondering, I haven't forgotten about the mysterious object that Dylan is carrying around – it will be revealed before the story's end.
For a moment Dylan thought he was hallucinating. He'd put away a lot of liquor tonight; perhaps his alcohol-addled mind was playing tricks on him, conjuring up her image just to torment him. He blinked, rubbed a hand across his eyes, and took another look. He was afraid that she would be gone, but she was still there. He caught his breath. She was as beautiful as ever; lustrous dark hair tied back, save for the stray tendrils that curled seductively to her chin on either side. Her sweater matched her eyes, making them appear startlingly blue. She had lost weight he noticed with a jolt. It suited her, gave her cheekbones that somehow heightened her intensity and made her even more distinctive. His eyes settled on her lips, tonight painted a dark red, he had always thought that shade suited her. How he longed to kiss those lips. Overwhelmed and a little unsteady, he lent against the wall for support.
He couldn't understand what she was doing here. Had he called her, asked her to come over? He'd certainly thought about it often enough, but he didn't remember actually doing it. Still he had had a lot to drink. He shook his head trying to clear the fog that was surrounding his brain. Just being around her awakened all kinds of feelings, feelings that he'd been trying to bury. He longed to reach out and touch her, but instead he gripped the doorframe tightly.
"So are you going to invite me in or do I have to stand out here all night?" Brenda asked, cutting through his chaotic thoughts. The calmness of her tone belied the inner turmoil she was feeling at the closeness of his presence. This was just too weird. She had shared a level of intimacy with Dylan that she had never shared with anyone else. She had shared more than just her body, she had shared her hopes and dreams, her inner most thoughts and feelings. Being around him now was incredibly painful and disturbing yet at the same time his familiar presence was strangely comforting.
They had crossed the boundary from strangers to friends to lovers, but now they were none of those things. Now she didn't know what they were. They hadn't re-defined their relationship; there was no rulebook to follow. They weren't enemies, but they weren't friends either. He had betrayed her in the worst possible way, he had hurt her terribly and yet she still loved him. How could you love and hate someone at the same time? She found herself caught between wanting to hurt him and wanting to help him and she didn't know what to do.
Mutely Dylan stepped back from the door, allowing her to enter. He couldn't believe it; she was here, really here. Despite his intoxication, or perhaps because of it, a feeling of hope welled up inside him. Could she have come back to him? Could she have forgiven him for what he had done to her? He desperately wanted to believe that it was true, but how could it be?
A little unsteady on his feet, partly from the alcohol, but mostly from the overwhelming effect of suddenly being confronted by Brenda, he weaved his way back to the couch and sank in to it gratefully. The room was spinning slightly, but he couldn't be sure if it was due to the alcohol or the dizzying feeling of hope that Brenda might still love him. Leaning his head back against the couch, he squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the room to stop moving.
***
Stepping through the door, Brenda frowned distastefully as her nose was immediately assaulted by the smell of stale alcohol. Her gaze flicked around the room, taking in the empty bottles and cans that littered the coffee table and spilled over on to the floor. There were rumpled clothes slung carelessly across the back of the couch and a stack of unopened mail lay by the door. He had obviously been this way for several days. Brenda sighed. Kelly had warned her what to expect, but that didn't make it any easier.
"I can't say I like what you've done with the place" she observed wryly.
Hesitantly Dylan opened his eyes and squinted at his surroundings as if noticing them for the first time. "I haven't had a lot of time for cleaning lately, I've been busy." He was half apologetic, half defensive.
"I can see that" Brenda retorted, looking pointedly at the empty bottles.
Dylan's eyes shifted guiltily from the bottles to Brenda. Stubbornly he held her gaze. Slowly his lips curled in to a half smile. "Well if I'd known you were dropping by I'd have cleaned the place up. I wasn't exactly expecting visitors." His words were ever so slightly slurred, reminding her that he was inebriated and not really himself.
Brenda hesitated. Dylan looked like hell. Several inches of stubble graced his chin, his face was deathly pale and dark circles underscored his eyes. He had lost weight too. He had always been lean, but now his clothes hung off him and his face was gaunt and strained. His eyes burned brightly, too brightly. She wondered uneasily just how much he'd had to drink.
She wanted to reach out to him, to take him in her arms, to tell him that everything was gonna be okay, but she knew that she couldn't do that. She couldn't let her emotions take control; she couldn't allow him to hurt her again. Tentatively she took a step towards him "Dylan you need help" she said gently.
Dylan's features contorted in to a frown. She wasn't here because she loved him, but because she felt sorry for him. "I need help and here you are to save me" he said bitterly. He shook his head in disgust. "That figures. You Walshes, you never give up do you?" He laughed but there was no humour in it. "Haven't you realised by now that I'm a lost cause?"
He reached for the bottle next to him and clumsily filled a shot glass, spilling some of the scotch on the coffee table. He didn't seem to notice. A little unsteadily he offered the glass to Brenda who glared at him furiously. Shrugging he brought the glass to his lips and downed the contents. Brenda winced. She'd seen Dylan drunk before and it was never good. She wanted to grab the bottle from him, to pour the destructive liquid down the sink, but she knew he'd never let her.
His eyes narrowed and he regarded her critically. "But you still think you can save me don't you Brenda? I'll bet right now you're wondering how you can get this bottle out of my hand aren't you?"
Brenda coloured and looked away guiltily. It was all the confirmation he needed.
Dylan sighed heavily. "That's the thing about you Bren, you never did know when to quit."
Despite herself Brenda couldn't help rising to the bait "And what's that supposed to mean?" She demanded.
He found he couldn't look at her. "It means that you've got to realise that some people don't want to be saved."
"Meaning you?" She asked, her voice tight with emotion.
"Maybe." He admitted softly, still refusing to meet her eyes.
Brenda shook her head, eyes glittering with indignation "I don't believe that."
Dylan rolled his eyes in exasperation. "You see right there, that's exactly what I mean" he snapped.
"So what are you saying that I should just walk out of here and leave you to drink yourself to death?" Brenda asked, desperately trying to quell the rising panic that threatened to consume her. She'd seen Dylan drunk before, she'd seen him depressed before, but she'd never seen him like this.
"Yes that's exactly what I'm saying" Dylan spoke so quietly it was practically a whisper.
"Dylan you're scaring me." The urgency in her voice got his attention and he looked up sharply. It was then that she realised that he was crying. She watched in horrified amazement as silent tears slid down his cheeks.
"I'm tired of fighting Bren." He confessed. "Trying to do the right thing, trying to be like everybody else, but never quite managing to match up." He wiped a hand across his eyes, gazed at her sadly. "I can't keep doing it." He looked at the bottle ruefully "The desire to drink is always there every day, it never goes away. I just decided to stop fighting it that's all."
"So you're just gonna give in? Just like that? After everything you've been through." She shook her head "That's so typical of you to take the easy way out."
Dylan held up his hands in protest "Hey I just decided to be smart for once. I'm never gonna be good enough, not for people like your father. I'm never gonna beat my addiction, I'm never gonna be like everybody else." He shrugged "Why waste my time trying?"
Brenda was furious. "You're not being smart Dylan, you're being a coward. You're running away from your problems, hiding from them in the bottom of that bottle." She rounded on him angrily. "I don't know why I'm surprised, I mean you run away, you take the easy way out, it's what you do. It's what you always do." All the pain, all the resentment was pouring out of her now and she no longer tried to hold it back.
"That's not true" Dylan countered angrily. "When things got difficult for us I didn't run away, I stayed and fought for us. I put up with everything that your father threw at me. I stood by you."
"Not this time you didn't." Brenda hissed. "This time you ran away to Kelly".
They stared at each other for a moment in silence, the accusation hung in the air between them. Brenda realised that she was shaking. She had bottled up her feelings towards Dylan for so long, the strength of her anger surprised her.
Alcohol had loosened Dylan's tongue and his inhibitions, for once he was ready to say what he really felt and damn the consequences. "You're right I did run away with Kelly and do you know why?" He asked angrily.
"No I don't know why" Brenda replied quietly. "Why don't you tell me." She raised her chin, stubbornly refusing to be intimidated. Taking a deep breath, she braced herself for whatever painful revelation was coming.
When he looked back at her Dylan's eyes were accusatory "Because she doesn't expect me to be anything more than what I am."
"What?" Brenda stammered "Dylan I don't understand."
Dylan sighed. "It's pretty simple really Bren. I'm never gonna be what you want me to be". He shook his head sadly "Everything you've risked, everything you've gone through to be with me, you did that because you believe in me."
"That's right, I do believe in you Dylan, I've always believed in you" Brenda exclaimed tearfully.
Dylan wiped his eyes, a futile attempt to stop the tears that were flowing. "I don't deserve that belief Bren. You're looking for a guy that you can be proud of, that your father will accept, a guy who can give you the kind of life you deserve." He spoke solemnly "Brenda I'm not that guy."
"But I am proud of you Dylan. Can't you see that?" Brenda asked desperately.
Dylan shook his head. "Brenda no matter how hard I try, I'm always gonna let you down. I know it, your father knows it and you know it. But you just keep fighting it, you keep trying to make it better, make me better."
He hesitated, scratched awkwardly at the back of his head "Bren your father felt so strongly about us, that he sent you to Paris for the summer just to get you away from me. How do you think that made me feel?"
He looked so wretched that Brenda's heart went out to him. She edged a little closer. "Dylan I know that it's hard, but we've been through so much and we've always come through it together. I didn't give up on you, why did you give up on me?
"I've spent my whole life being rejected by the people I love. I thought your family was different, I thought it was special. I let myself get close, too close and that's what made the rejection so much harder to take". He looked at her miserably "I got the message loud and clear, I'm not good enough."
Brenda gasped. "Dylan that's not true, my father was just mad because I lied to him."
Dylan shook his head. "Brenda if you'd wanted to go to Mexico with someone else, someone like Rick" he winced even as he spoke the name "you wouldn't have had to lie to him, he'd have given you his blessing. And that's exactly what I've been trying to tell you."
Brenda wanted to argue, to tell him that he was wrong, but she knew that he wasn't. Her silence spoke volumes, and they regarded each other awkwardly, neither knowing what to do or say. Eventually Dylan spoke.
"When I was in that gas station and that guy pointed his gun at me, I thought I was gonna die" he said hesitantly. "I was scared Bren, I was so scared."
"I know." Brenda said softly, shuddering, as his words dredged up memories of her own that she had tried to bury.
He shook his head. "I thought that I was gonna die and there was nothing that I could do about it." His throat was tight with emotion and he had to fight to get the words out " In that moment he had the power to decide whether I lived or died. One little squeeze of the trigger and my life would have been over."
"I know Dylan, I know what you're going through, I've been there." She squeezed his hand reassuringly.
Dylan continued almost to himself. "I keep replaying it in my head over and over, I can't shut it out, it's always there."
"I know. it was like that for me too." Brenda admitted. "But it's gonna be okay Dylan, I promise you, you can get through it, I'll help you."
"No." Dylan shook his head vehemently "It's not going to be okay, it's never going to be okay Bren, you don't understand."
Brenda looked at him anxiously, he was trembling "Then tell me Dylan, make me understand."
"Dylan took a deep breath and then turned tearful eyes on her. His words were slow and forced as though each one cost him effort "When that gun was pointed at me" he said carefully "I thought about my life, what I'd achieved, the sort of man I've become." He hesitated, unable to continue.
Puzzled, Brenda nodded. "It's okay Dylan you can tell me, whatever it is we can deal with it."
He buried his face in his hands. "No we can't deal with it Bren, that's just it, I don't know how to deal with it."
"Dylan what is it? Tell me?" Brenda begged, gently pulling his hands away.
"Please Brenda you have to help me" Dylan pleaded. "I don't know what to do."
"I will help you Dylan, I promise, but I can't help you unless you tell me what's wrong" Brenda said gently. She knew that painful as this was, whatever had happened, she had to get him to talk about it, it was the only way he could move on. "Please Dylan, tell me what it is" she coaxed.
Dylan swallowed hard. He had kept this bottled up for so long, refused to deal with it, but Brenda had gotten him to the point where he needed to say it. "I wanted him to pull the trigger" he whispered. He looked at Brenda intently "I wanted to die. I've messed up my life and he was offering me an easy way out." He turned tortured eyes on her. "So tell me how can anything ever be okay again?"
Brenda felt as though all the breath had been knocked out of her. She stared at him in stunned silence, her brain reeling, unable to make sense of the words.
Dylan could hold it together no longer, his resolve crumbled the last vestiges of strength drained away. He was trembling uncontrollably, his entire body wracked by painful sobs. Brenda reacted instinctively, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him close. She hugged him tightly, trying to calm him down and at the same time come to terms with her own feelings.
"I need you Bren" Dylan begged. "I need you to save me."
"I know." Was all she said. They stayed like that for a long time, Brenda couldn't tell how long, could have been minutes could have been hours, it was as if time stood still and the whole of the world went away.
***
Slowly, Dylan became aware of his surroundings, aware that his face was buried in Brenda's shoulder, his arms wrapped around her body. It felt so right so safe. He just wanted to forget about everything and lose himself in her the way that he used to. Slowly he turned his head; gently he began to kiss her neck. It felt like the most natural thing in the world.
Carried away with the emotion of the night and her desire for Dylan, Brenda found herself responding to his kisses. She turned her head so that his lips met hers, and everything else melted away. Their kissing became more urgent, Dylan reached under Brenda's sweater, his hands hungrily exploring.
"No." Brenda shouted, recoiling so violently that Dylan jumped. "We can't. Not now, not like this."
"Why not?" Dylan asked hurt and bewildered.
"Because it's not right. I want to help you Dylan but not this way." She sighed heavily. "If we're ever going to be together again, it has to be for the right reasons." Dylan opened his mouth to protest but Brenda cut him off "Not because you're scared or you're depressed, or because you think it will make your problems go away."
Slowly, eyes still on Dylan, she got up from the couch. Reaching in her pocket she retrieved a crumpled piece of paper and placed it on the coffee table in front of him.
Dylan looked at her in confusion. "I don't understand. What are you doing?"
"I'm saving you" she said simply, then she walked straight out of the door and she didn't stop until she reached her car. Sliding in behind the wheel she lent her head back against the seat and shut her eyes, taking several deep breaths. She had taken a gamble, a huge gamble and she wasn't sure if it was going to pay off. Dylan was in a terrible state and she had just walked out and left him. She didn't want to leave him; she wanted to run back in there, to hold him, to tell him that everything was going to be all right. Instead she turned the key in the ignition and drove off in to the night.
***
Dylan's gaze moved deliberately from the piece of paper to the bottle of whisky and back again. He'd been sitting there just staring at the two objects on his coffee table for hours now. His senses were reeling and his nerves were in tatters. He had no idea what had just happened between him and Brenda. She had taken him to the brink of emotional collapse and then brought him right the way back. And then she had walked out and left him. He didn't know what to do, what to think, all he knew was that he needed her. She had said that she was saving him, but he didn't see how. He badly needed a drink, he was starting to sober up and that meant that he was starting to feel again. The pain of a hangover he could deal with, but the rest of his problems, he wasn't sure he could deal with those.
Decisively he pushed the bottle of whisky away from him; just looking at it was making him feel nauseous. Slowly, tentatively he reached for the crumpled paper. Hesitantly he unfolded it, Brenda's handwriting danced in front of his eyes.
'I love you Dylan and because I love you I want you to call this number. You were there for me when I needed you, please let me be here for you now.' Underneath was written a name and number.