"There was no more lynchpin. There were no more Walshes in the Walsh House. It kind of didn't make sense anymore. So, I regret leaving the show for all those reasons." - Jason Priestly, CNN, the 14th of May in 2014.
xx
When she received the call from her agent, she had cried for so long that Dylan had believed she injured herself.
She was nominated for an Olivier.
She, Brenda Analiese Walsh, the little girl from Minnesota with the impossible dreams, nominated for Best Actress in the Oliviers, the highest honor in British theatre.
Eleven years since she had graduated from RADA, eight years since her first role of note, five years since gaining national popularity and a mere few months after her international acclaim spurred by the previous autumn's stateside tour, she was nominated for an Olivier.
To Brenda, it wouldn't matter if she didn't win. Just being nominated was honor enough.
They went to Edinburgh to celebrate, she and Dylan, Shane and Katie, Sophie, Vee and the entire crew. They walked the Royal Mile, hand-in-hand, ate at The Last Drop, explored the castle and mutually fell in love with yet another city.
"Will you be joining me at the Oliviers?" she asked Dylan whilst standing near the castle.
"What kind of question is that? Of course I will be."
"But there's a red carpet," she warned. "You don't do red carpets. Or paparazzi. Or cameras."
"Bren, haven't you figured out by now that saying I'll do anything for you means every fucking thing? There aren't any stipulations." He pushed back her hair, looking out with her to the city below. "That includes red carpets. And paparazzi. And I'll even do cameras. I'll just stand back and let the flash focus on you, my luminescent leading lady whether you win or lose. Though they'd be fucking insane to not give the award to you after that performance."
He made her fall in love with him a little bit more each day, every time that she thought she had already reached the maximum amount allotted.
This time, when she temporarily flew back to California to see her brother wed the love of his life after their own laundry list of mistakes and heartache, she took a piece of London with her.
She didn't dread the destination. She didn't feel the borders closing in. She didn't fear the past.
Instead, she rested her head on the shoulder of her favorite man, her roommate of the last five months.
He held her hand, smiling over with that gorgeous, head-turning grin each time he caught her looking.
They attempted to join the mile-high club in the lavatory, laughing when they realized the uncomfortable situation was better left to the movies.
He peered over her shoulder, pointing out various geological elements down below.
He then kissed each shoulder before tugging her closer to him, or as close as her seatbelt allowed.
They were picked up by David and Steve, who took them straight to the old Casa Walsh.
The moment they opened the door, they were mobbed by Walshes and Beevises alike - the majority of whom sounded precisely as if they had just entered a home in Minnesota, instead of a house in California.
A string of Walshes she hadn't seen in years.
Multiple branches of Beevises.
She didn't know half of those Beevises.
He didn't know any of them.
"Bren!"
She gratefully accepted her closest cousin's hand, who led her out of the chaos of older distant cousins trying to smack their lips upon her cheek and explain how old she had been when last they saw her.
"Lottie. It's been forever!"
Like the majority of their family, Carola Walsh, or Lottie as she had been coined at a young age, towered over Brenda. In contrast to her older brother Bobby, whose hair of the lightest brown flew about as he gave an enthusiastic wave to Brenda from where he sat speaking to his father, Lottie's was dyed in every color of the rainbow. She wore a denim dress, cinched at the waist with a belt that hugged her curves. And, judging from her appearance, the Thailand sun had converted her previously pasty skin into a toasty tan.
"Did you dye your hair again? I swear it was purple in the Polaroid you sent with your last postcard."
"Of course I did, Bren. You've got to keep changing it up or it gets dull fast."
"So this is the famous Lottie Walsh." Dylan stepped behind Brenda, scooping her into his arms.
"And this is the devastatingly gorgeous Dylan McKay who broke my favorite cousin's heart twice and who I hear is crazy in love with her once again? You're right, Bren. He is a dish."
"You said I was a dish?" he amusedly murmured into Brenda's hair.
"I said you were fucking sexy and devastatingly handsome," she corrected. "Lottie changed it to dish."
"Fucking sexy and devastatingly handsome?" He chuckled, the reverberation falling against her neck. "I'll take it, assuming the devastatingly part is no more."
"There you guys are! Finally someone I recognize. Who are all these people?"
"Our family, apparently," Brenda laughed. "Melly, this is -"
"Dylan McKay, of course. I remember him from the spring formal photos Aunt Cindy sent to Mom, except his hair is way flatter now," replied Melody Walsh, the curvaceous woman boasting eyes similar to the oceanic shade of her cousin Brandon's, as she flung her arm over Lottie's shoulder. "Damn, Bren. You always luck out in the boyfriend department. All of yours have been insanely gorgeous. Massive step up from Jim Townsend, too."
"Dylan likes to think he's the prettiest of them all," Steve teased, approaching the small group.
"I dunno, Bren. I mean, Dylan is hot and all, but your London boyfriend? And your Swedish fling? Especially your Swedish fling? Holy shit, girl. If they make them like that in the Midwest, I've yet to find it." Melody eyed Steve. "But hey, they don't make them too bad in Cali, either. You're Steve Sanders, aren't you?"
"The one and only," he grinned, setting his elbow on Brenda's shoulder.
"It's weird seeing you out of a dress."
Steve sputtered.
"What?"
"Bran. I visited him in DC several years back and he has this photo of you in a wig, a dress and one of those chokers all of us girls thought were so cool in the nineties. I recognize your eyes, though. You've got some pretty distinctive eyes."
Dylan chortled. Steve clenched his teeth.
"I'm gonna kill him," he muttered into Brenda's ear.
"You can't kill the groom," she giggled.
"Then I'll kill the husband," he shot back.
"Brenda, I know you have five thousand family members, but fuck, I didn't realize I knew a fucking class size full of them. They keep trying to talk to me about Abby's high school days and one of them gave me a whole list of reasons why I should move back to Minnesota, written down and everything. Make it stop."
"Saved by the Val!" Steve gave her a fierce hug in his palpable relief.
"You know it's always a pleasure seeing you, Sanders, but do you have to squish me?" Valerie's voice sounded muffled against his shirt.
"Bren, are you gonna want all of these people at our wedding?" Dylan whispered, playing with the hem of her skirt.
"Hell no. I don't even know half of them. Brandon's the one who goes to all the reunions. I haven't been to any since I was a kid."
"Oh thank God," he chuckled. "Almost thought we'd have to rent out Westminster Abbey." He gathered her to him. "Of course, if you do want to rent out Westminster Abbey, then your wish is my command."
"I was thinking something much smaller."
"Have I told you lately how fucking amazing you are?" he grinned.
"You told me this morning," she laughed.
"Well, I can never say it enough." He pressed a kiss to her ear.
"C'mon you two, let's move this party outside. Mr. Walsh has the grill going and the weather feels amazing." She felt Andrea tug at her arm, who she noticed did her best to avoid Steve's pained gaze.
"Guess the lovebirds still aren't talking," Dylan muttered as they followed the others outside, into the pleasant temperature of a Southern Californian spring.
"On the plus side, Steve's talking to you again," she noted.
"That is certainly a plus," he agreed, popping a dark chocolate truffle into her mouth after swiping it from a tray.
A hungover Steve had called up Dylan on Easter Sunday, informing them through his morose tones that Madeline had chosen to celebrate the Passover with Hannah, Andrea and Steve's favorite person: Keith Christopher.
Or Keith Fucking Christopher, as he was now permanently known.
Dylan had talked it out with Steve, reminding him that Andrea wasn't a mind reader and he needed to be proactive if he wanted a relationship with her. He then talked out why he hadn't told Steve about the deal with Sammy. The two men argued back and forth and before the conversation ended, they had patched things up.
Brenda found the soon-to-be newlyweds hanging out with the Silver spouses and a few of Brandon's friends from Washington, one of whom received a glare from Dylan when the blond man glanced her over with an appreciative nod which Dylan whispered lasted a second too long.
"Well, Brando. Took you a few proposals, a decade of waiting and a shit ton of stupid mistakes, but you finally made it back here." Steve jumped onto the lounge chair. "Which you know means bachelor party."
"No strippers!" shouted Kelly and Brenda in unison.
"Now, hey girls, that no strippers rule doesn't apply to us, right?" Melody raised a perfectly lined eyebrow.
"Melody Walsh, I knew I always liked you." Valerie grinned, tucking an arm around the woman's slim waist whilst Valerie checked out Brandon's old colleague from the Post.
Brenda watched as the two attractive individuals began a shameless round of eyesex then and there.
"Val, you aren't joining the girls, are you?" Steve's lips pursed into a pout. "I figured you'd hang with us since you're way more Brando's friend than Kel's."
Brenda tried to not laugh, for they all knew precisely how much Valerie Malone was no friend of Kelly Taylor.
"I'll go where Brenda goes," Valerie announced, briefly breaking her gaze from her nonverbal fling.
"Well, don't I have to make an appearance at Bran's? Best Man and all that?" Brenda allowed Dylan to pull her onto his lap.
"You'll be at the bachelorette too, though, right?" Donna asked from her spot on David. "Won't be the same without you."
"Oh, please do come, Bren," Kelly smiled softly.
"I wonder if I'll be the first person to go to both a bachelorette party and a bachelor party," Brenda mused.
"That's our Bren. Always the first to do something," Lottie smiled.
"Me? Lottie, you moved to Asia and annually dye your hair a different color!"
"Listen, Kelly Taylor, as you can see Brandon's got a whole lotta family who love him to death. Now, the great thing about that is they'll be your family, too. The bad thing is - well, don't ever hurt him and you won't find out."
"Melody!" Brandon sighed, wrapping his arms across Kelly's chest. "Be nice."
"I'm just saying, Raisin Bran."
"I can't hurt Brandon, not again. It's physically impossible. It's like hurting myself," Kelly assured, lightly squeezing his knee.
"I'd just like to point out that I've also hurt her at times, so don't forget that, Melody." He swept Kelly's hair over her shoulder to caress her skin.
"Still has to be said, Bran. That goes double for Dylan McKay over there, heartbreaker extraordinaire who really is as sexy as Bren said."
Dylan massaged Brenda's shoulder with a noticeable smirk playing on his lips.
"Better to tell you now than have you find out the hard way later," Melody continued. "Don't mess with Midwestern families. We may look sweet, we may sound sweet, but cross one of us and you'll want to watch your hotdish."
"Melly!" Brenda warned.
"Thanks, Melly. You took the words right out of my mouth." Tossing a pig-in-the-blanket into her open cherry red lips, Lottie winked at her cousin.
"Don't worry, ladies. Brenda's heart is safe with me," Dylan swore, "and I'm not just saying that to avoid the wrath of Walshes, Beevises and her utterly terrifying friend Vee."
Even after five months of dating Brenda, he had still been unable to receive the approval of Vee.
"Beevises? I'm talking strictly Walshes. Beevises, that's hilarious. Have you ever seen a Beevis mess with a hotdish?"
"Uh," Dylan looked to Brenda for help, "I don't exactly know what a hotdish is."
"It's just a casserole," she explained with a small giggle, stroking his leg.
He thanked her with a light touch of his lips.
"Just a casserole?" Melody gasped, her strawberry blonde locks shaking. "Bren, you've been gone from Minnesota for way too long."
"Melly, you live in Illinois," Brenda pointed out.
"That's not the point. Hotdishes are a way of life!"
"Walshes sure are an interesting bunch," commented Andrew, the blond journalist who had spent most of the conversation nonverbally pleasuring Valerie.
"Oh, you have no idea," Valerie laughed, stretching out her toned legs. "Lottie, Melody, do you remember that summer that Brenda asked your grandmother to help her bake a hotdish so that she could get back at Brandon for ruining her roller skates?" Grabbing a beer from the nearby table, she popped off the cap and slowly tilted it to her painted lips, just enough to keep Andrew's attention.
"Bro, how did you ruin her roller skates?" Swigging from his own beer, Steve turned to Brandon.
"Oh my God! I remember that!" Brenda glowered at her brother. "You and Bobby wanted to test out whether you could roller skate on an ice rink and you used my skates in your little experiment."
"Not one of my finer ideas," Brandon admitted. "Neither was tasting your Tater Tot Hotdish. I was sick for days."
"That's because I stole some of Dad's bait and put it in there," she confessed.
"Don't cross a Midwesterner. Got it," Steve gulped, taking another sip from his beer.
The group was soon joined by Madeline, who leapt up onto Brenda's lap and began to giggle when Dylan's arms snaked through hers to wrap around his goddaughter in a tickle session.
"AB! GD! I missed you guys!" she managed when she eventually stopped laughing.
"We missed you too, Madster." Pressing his face into Brenda's hair, Dylan continued to hold both girls on his own lap.
"Ladies, this adorable little girl here is my niece, Maddie. Because someone decided that godfathers can't live on the other side of the country, even though mine and Bren's does," Brandon told his cousins.
"Brando!" Steve replied, miffed. "I've told you that wasn't the reason."
"Yeah yeah." He reached out a hand over Kelly to rub Madeline's arm. "Well whatever reason it was, Maddie is my niece and Dylan's goddaughter."
"But Maddie doesn't love anyone more than she loves me, right, Maddie?" Brenda kissed her hair.
Tucking her head under Brenda's chin, Madeline nodded vigorously.
"Mads! We've been over this. You love your dad most." Steve leant over to tickle her feet through her aquamarine jelly sandals.
"Nuh-uh, Daddy. It goes Auntie Bren, then Hannah, then you."
Pretending to have been stabbed, Steve placed a hand on his chest.
"No surprise that Bren is first, but Hannah's before me? I'm hurt, Mads," Dylan joked, tousling her hair.
"Well, you're a boy, GD. Boys have cooties. Hannah's my best friend and she doesn't have cooties."
"Looks like Maddie here has reached the cooties stage," Valerie cracked up.
"What happened to wanting a Vegas wedding, sweetie?" Brenda gathered Madeline's hair, styling the strands into an unsecured braid before releasing them.
"And wanting Bren and I to get married so we can give you a baby to play with?" Dylan added with a chuckle.
"That was last year, before Sydney Shepherd told me boys have cooties and I'll get them if I marry one. She said they're okay until girls get their periods and then the cooties come racing in," a repulsed Madeline explained. "I think Auntie Bren has periods, so that means GD got them. Godma, you have periods, right?" She looked over at Kelly, who appeared uncomfortable. "You better check Uncle Brandon scrubs free of his cooties before your wedding. Sydney Shepherd says you need a magnifying glass to see them. You can borrow mine."
"Honey, I think he's clear of cooties," Kelly moved her hand behind Brandon's neck with a slight, nervous giggle. "But I appreciate the offer."
"Not Sydney Shepherd again," sighed Steve, setting his head in his hands. "What happened to that Amanda Perkins girl? She seems nice and honest. Can you hang out with her?"
"Daddy, Mandy moved to Texas."
"Why do Californians keep leaving this perfectly fine state?" Steve groaned, looking pointedly at Kelly, then Dylan.
"Hey, I did leave before!" Kelly reminded him.
"You two better not leave," Steve shook his finger at Donna. "Bran and Kel moving to Boston, Val out in Philly, Dylan and Bren living in London; you're the only two left. You and," he paused, swallowing more of his beer, "Andrea."
Dylan exchanged a look with Brenda over Madeline's long hair.
"Don't think we're planning to leave anytime soon, bro," David assured the man who had once considered him a tick clinging to the underside of his feet. "But I wonder how you scrub free of cooties?" he continued, forgetting for a moment that they were speaking of an imaginary ailment consistently manifested by imaginations of children.
Brenda recalled when the kids in her elementary school had all believed the same, though the girls of Mrs. Larson's fourth grade class had unanimously declared Brandon Walsh to be the only non-carrier of the allegedly infectious disease.
All except Brenda, who told her female classmates that Brandon had indeed been exposed in order to stamp out the crush on her brother courtesy of their overly interested neighbor, Courtney Blackman.
The same Courtney Blackman who had married Jim Townsend the previous spring, Brenda had found out in a letter from her grandmother due to her inactive presence on the various social media platforms.
At least Steve wouldn't need to worry about Maddie crushing on a Jim Townsend anytime soon, Brenda thought - not that there was anything wrong with Jim Townsend.
He just wasn't Dylan McKay.
"If I remember correctly, it was something about a circle. Two circles, I think. And two dots. So, like this." Sounding cheerier than anyone had heard from her in several months, Donna pecked David's lips twice.
"Oh, give me a cootie scrub any day," he grinned, shifting his wife in for a heavier round.
"Is Mads right? Do I have cooties, Bren?" Dylan moved his face towards hers.
"If you do, I'll just kiss them away."
"Actually, GD, yours might've jumped off. I just remembered. Sydney didn't know if they get them in England. She says cooties hate the rain because they disappear in the puddles and Daddy says England rains all the time."
"I wouldn't say all the time." Dylan shook his head, flicking a breaded piece of hamburger bun towards Steve. "Sanders, quit trying to turn my goddaughter against mine and Bren's home. You know it rains here, too. It's not like LA is strictly sunshine three hundred and sixty-five days a year."
"It's close enough and it does rain way more in London," Steve argued. "Where does Sydney Shepherd get this stuff from?" he shifted the blame.
"Overactive imagination?" David suggested.
"Well, Maddie, I don't know if cooties do hate the rain, but I guess I better check," Brenda smiled.
So she did, right there in Casa Walsh's backyard, with Madeline Sanders still sitting on her lap and a plethora of her overprotective family members chowing down on a home cooked meal courtesy of Jim and Cindy Walsh.
Then, before they left for their hotel, Dylan suggested doing something they had never done, even as horny teenagers beginning their decades-long love story - though he had certainly tried to persuade her into it several times when they were both aged sixteen.
She happily agreed and so, giggling and shushing each other, he took her on the bed of her old bedroom with her family hanging out downstairs.
Then they christened the old bathroom she had once shared with her brother - the first place she ever saw Dylan shirtless - and then, to round it all out, they finished up in Brandon's old room just for the hell of it.
Yet when they rejoined the gang, all of them seemed oblivious to what had happened upstairs.
Except for Brandon and Valerie, that is, who both looked at them knowingly with matching smirks.
Most of the next two days passed by in a blur, with Dylan helping to nurse Brenda's hangover from her double party hopping. Valerie claimed that Brenda had drank from Lottie's high heeled shoe, though Brenda didn't remember doing so whatsoever. She recalled having more fun at the bachelor party than at the bachelorette, largely because Dylan's lips had touched all over the upper half of her body whilst he held her during the boy's poker game. She attended brunch with the gang, the Silver clan and her parents. She listened to Valerie tell her about her newest fling, who she then caught with Valerie in the coat closet at the rehearsal dinner. She caught up with every Walsh, including Bobby and his wife Livia, met distant Beevises spilling long-held family secrets and curiously watched Dylan walk out of the room with Jim, the two men sharing a cryptic conversation spoken in low tones.
"Will Keith be joining us?" she asked, keeping one arm around Andrea's shoulders.
She noticed Steve's intense gaze land in their direction.
"He had to fly down to Rio, so I'm an independent woman this weekend."
"What's going on with you and Steve?" Brenda casually asked, figuring she would help the matchmaker to be matchmade since he still preferred to complain about the situation, rather than attempt to do anything about it.
"You've got me. He keeps wanting to pick fights with Keith. I don't know why."
"You don't know why? Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure. I thought they were friends. Now he doesn't want Keith hanging around me or Hannah? What is up with that? I thought we were friends. "
"Andrea, have you ever considered that Steve might be jealous of Keith?"
"Steve? Jealous of Keith?" Sipping from her straw, Andrea laughed. "What on earth would he have to be jealous of?"
"Maybe Steve likes you," Brenda shrugged.
There. Perhaps Andrea would finally catch on.
"He barely talks to me, Brenda," the normally observant woman replied sadly. "There were a couple of months last year when I thought he might've been interested, but he never made a move. He thinks I'm colorless and he's convinced Keith won't stay interested in someone like me. So I strongly doubt he's even remotely interested himself. He just really doesn't like Keith anymore, I guess."
Or perhaps not.
"Hannah misses him, though." She frowned, stirring her drink. "I miss him, too, but please don't tell him. You know how he can get."
"Maybe he misses you and Hannah," Brenda tried again.
"I doubt that," Andrea sighed, examining the contents of her Bloody Mary.
Brenda failed to have better luck with Steve, who practically reiterated Andrea's comments in the opposite view. She prayed that she wouldn't be forced to endure nine years of Steve Sanders' and Andrea Zuckerman's miscommunications, as they had done with her and Dylan. She decided that Steve either needed to act on his feelings, as Dylan had eventually done, or get over them.
Speeches were said, a lengthy one by Jim and a lengthier one by herself. Steve told anecdotes that caused uproarious laughter throughout the entire room. David sang a new song written solely for the joyful couple; during his performance, Brandon stunned them all by pulling Kelly and Sammy up to dance with him. Silver announced a warning to Brandon on behalf of Kelly's family. Andrea handed out fake newspapers that detailed the tale of Brandon Walsh and Kelly Taylor, starting from the first day they had spotted each other at a party reluctantly hosted by high school queen Marianne Moore. Multiple family members bombarded Brenda with interrogations of her own lacking engagement, whether or not she knew the interrogators.
She was rescued by her handsome boyfriend, who suggested a quick stroll to the gazebo in the hotel's backyard.
They danced there, with only the song playing in their heads.
She thanked him for rescuing her from a Midwestern goodbye with her aunt Paula. He laughed and held her closer, asking her if she missed London. She said that she did, immensely. He told her that he did, too, and that he was glad the trip would be kept short.
They drove with the Silvers to their old stomping grounds of West Beverly, sneaking into the dark campus with the others and a shovel to prematurely dig up the time capsule buried by the gang in their junior year.
"Finally," David said, reaching into the box. "Scott's hat."
He pulled out the cowboy hat of his late best friend Scott Scanlon, only for Donna to shriek and push it to the grass when a rather large spider crawled out of the lining.
Following a short group trip to the beach, Dylan had settled in with his arms around Brenda on their hotel room sofa to read their respective novels when they were interrupted by a consistent tapping on the door.
"Brandon?" She muttered, peeking out. "It's eleven-thirty on the night before your wedding. Shouldn't you and Kelly not be together right now? Do you really want to press your luck like that?"
"Does that mean you won't let us in?"
She looked to Dylan, who set down his book with a shrug.
"Go ahead and let them in."
She sat on the bed next to him, balancing herself on her hands.
"Bren, D, Kel and I have some news that we wanted to tell you two alone." Brandon smiled, pulling Kelly into his arms. "Go ahead, Kel." He kissed her cheek.
"Well, Bren," Kelly glanced at Brandon for support, "you know when Maddie asked me if I had periods?"
Brenda nodded and then slowly realized.
"You looked incredibly uncomfortable."
"Well," Kelly smiled, snagging Brandon's hand, "that's because I haven't exactly had any lately."
Brenda's gaze whipped to her brother.
"Brandon? Are you serious?"
"Completely serious, Bren." He broke out into the biggest grin she had ever seen him wear. "Kelly's pregnant."
"Eight weeks." Kelly's face shone as if the essence of every star in the sky had gathered into her cheekbones.
"Doctor says everything looks good. We might even be able to carry to term." Brandon's arm wrapped protectively around his fiancée.
"We wanted to be sure this was really happening before we told anyone, but we both agreed that we had to tell Brenda first."
"Even though neither of you told me first," he reminded his sister with an annoyed frown.
"That's -" she swallowed down the tortilla chips infiltrating her throat, "that's fantastic!" Stepping onto her imaginary stage, she forced a smile. "I'm so happy for you two! Sammy's going to be a great big brother."
"Congratulations, man." Dylan shook his hand, clapping Brandon's knuckle. "You'll make one hell of a dad."
She was happy for them.
She was. She knew she was.
She was going to have another little niece or nephew, this time gifted from her other half, the person she had known even longer than her parents, she told herself. Of course she was happy, she chided.
"I want to be happy for them, Dylan," she confessed later that evening, releasing her conflicting emotions. "My brother is having a baby with the woman he's loved forever when they thought she wouldn't be able to conceive. A year ago, he wasn't even around and now he's going to be a dad with the woman who would have given him a kid years ago if not for that awful miscarriage. It's great news. I'm thrilled for them. I really am. I just, I -"
"Wish it was us?" he whispered, stroking her hair.
She nodded and sighed loudly.
"Am I a bad sister?"
"Bren, no, you aren't a bad sister. You're an incredible sister. Brandon is lucky to have a sister like you." He placed his hands on her shoulders. "You know what the gyno said at your last appointment. I was right when I said your old gyno only claimed you couldn't have kids. It's not that you can't have them, it's that the likelihood of not having them is higher than ideal. Times change. Technology changes, even in three years. Loads of infertile couples end up having kids they didn't expect." He loosely latched his hands around the nape of her neck. "You said it yourself, baby. Likelihood. Likely. Defined by Merriam-Webster as probable. Probable isn't definite, Brenda. That means there's a chance. And you and I know all about taking chances against the odds. Hell, you've given me three chances alone."
"I know and I know my schedule is far too crazy to raise a kid right now, but I just never realized how much I wanted them until I thought I couldn't have them," she whimpered. "Or until Brandon did. God, I'm selfish."
"Babe, you are not selfish. You're the least selfish person I know. You're generous to a fault. You give people second, third, fourth chances, no matter how badly they fuck up. I've seen you, with Mads, with Bri, with Sammy, with Wachinski's nephews and with our neighbor's kids. You've got a fucking massive heart that always tries to take care of everyone, including Steve and his fucking irritating inability to be honest with Andrea. You are the complete opposite of selfish."
"Bran just told me he's going to be a dad and I'm thinking about myself and how it affects me, Dylan. How is that not selfish?"
"It's human, Bren. You're human. It was a shock, that's all. We've been trying. We can keep trying. Listen, it might take us a bit longer than others, but if this is what you want, then I know that one day, my guys will do their job and help me to put our baby inside you." He moved his hands to either side of her waist. "You just gotta have the faith, Bren. And if you don't have it, then I have it in spades for the both of us."
"I really do want kids with you. Our kids. Mini you's for Maddie and Bri to teach things, for Bran's kid to be close with, like we are with our cousins," she murmured, biting her lip. "Not six kids, definitely not six kids, but a couple."
"Mini me's?" He lifted an eyebrow. "I think I'd prefer mini you's."
"Walsh-McKays, whoever they end up being like."
"Then baby, I suggest you subscribe to faith, trust and a whole lot of shagging on every surface, no matter how long it takes."
"I thought I already had that subscription." She gave a small smile.
"In that case," he smirked, "let me renew it."
Then he threw her over his shoulder onto the luxury bed, where he proceeded to plunge deep within in an attempt to coax her stubborn ovaries into cooperation with their shared dream.
-x
Next chapter might take a bit. I've done far more work on Chapter 27 than Chapter 26 and I want to get this B/K wedding right (if Brelly fans have any ideas, please feel free to privately message,) which is planned for twenty-six. Might need to dive back into some post-season four B/K scenes to do it. Also in 26: Does Steve finally make his move? Stay tuned.
And twenty-seven…ooh, just you wait for twenty-seven.
Should Bren win her Olivier? She's been through far too much shit and I don't relish the idea of bringing in Ringo, but I doubt we've heard the last of him. (Don't worry, though. I will never, ever write r*pe. Never, especially not for Bren. I might give her multiple other angsty storylines, but never that. Too many of my favorite female characters have frustratingly been given storylines in that vein for me to toss it on another and I don't write it. Period.)
Crystal - Good point about the close S/K friendship. I one hundred percent agree on Janet. There is no way that she didn't have friends of her own, though it was nice that what was left of the gang accepted her as one of theirs. The Sammy storyline was absolutely lifted directly from the reboot, but obviously modified immensely. Bren and Bran discussed her possibility of having difficulty in becoming pregnant all the way back in Chapter 5, which I know was ages ago. However, the storyline's similarity to the reboot's is almost nonexistent. (Speaking of the reboot, I swear Adrianna is actually B/D's kid in appearance and mannerisms. Wasted potential in not having a reboot about B/D's kid Adrianna and her cousin, B/K's kid Naomi. I'm not even going to go into how much I despised Annie Wilson.)
As always, thanks a million for the readership, reviews, alerts, likes, favourites, discourse, plot ideas, etc!