"The show probably should've ended after college or, like I said, it should've gone to a different post-college life for them. Not this struggling, ordinary life they wrote. They just totally missed the opportunity with where the show was supposed to go." - Larry Mollin
xx
The remaining days of summer passed uneventfully, an excitable throng of tourists conducting their final rounds in London before the city's residents braced themselves for the incoming nip of autumn. Those without allergy to cashmere took to the local shops to grow their collections of warm jumpers in final summer sales.
On a mild day in a week that had not yet required the reemergence of rain jackets but certainly teetered in that direction, she began to wonder if she was properly equipped to have children.
This crossed her mind that particular morning because they were driving her insane.
Besides Madeline. Madeline was the exception.
Madeline seemed to be the only child in that month's session of the RADA children's theatre program who actually listened to instructions.
Brenda had been pleasantly flabbergasted when Steve had agreed to let Madeline stay in the city for the entire months of August and September, provided Madeline continued on with her schoolwork.
Madeline's private school had determined it to be a great opportunity, trained in theatre by a renowned West End actress, which allowed Madeline to have the time of her life in the home of her beloved aunt and godfather.
They had both agreed that Steve would either feel like the coolest father in the world, or a father who had just given up his little girl to the world.
Brenda assumed he likely felt both.
Dylan had become surrounded by estrogen, with Donna having flown out for London Fashion Week and Vee as their new housemate whilst her place was examined for asbestos. Valerie would be flying out in two months, for Brenda's annual Friendsgiving, a Friendsgiving Brenda had ensured Valerie it would be acceptable to miss in the event that Valerie would not yet be healed enough for a transatlantic flight.
Dylan had declared his fiancée to be far too generous.
Perhaps she was, as the women could have easily booked a hotel, or a hostel.
Perhaps Brenda was more like her mother than she had imagined, for Brenda had insisted that all three stay in hers.
Theirs.
On the other hand, Brenda had stayed with numerous friends over the years during her travels, which she decided meant she was simply paying it forward.
"No, Mins. Like this," said Madeline, demonstrating a perfect toe touch.
Mina Sullivan, or Mins, had quickly become Madeline's new best friend over the span of two days.
Steve had been relieved to receive a call from Madeline rambling on about Mina.
"Fuck yeah," Steve had told Brenda. "That's the end of Sydney Shepherd."
"You can have more than one best friend, Steve. You do. I do. Dylan does."
"You don't count," said Steve. "Your best friends are one of each and none of them spread tall tales like Sydney Shepherd."
Two men and a woman, actually; one of whom often spread tall tales, but she wouldn't tell Steve that.
Three men, if she included her fiancé, who had smiled at her over the Egyptian Rat War card game he had been playing with their Maddie.
Poor Dylan had lost, bigtime.
Four men with Brandon in the mix, though she doubted Steve would count a twin connection.
Brenda had never had an issue in building friendships with women, but other than Valerie, it had been decades since she had held a closeness with them greater than that shared with her men.
Not even Katie could compete with Dylan, Brandon, Shane and Steve.
Brenda may not have been close with Val, either, if it had not been ridiculously easy to pick up exactly where they left off as childhood best friends when Val invited Brenda for a bitches-only weekend in Lisbon following Dylan's departure from London.
Invited was too kind of a word for Valerie showing up to Brenda's with a large bottle of expensive wine, two tickets to Lisbon, and the demand that Brenda come with her to listen to Valerie cry over losing David Silver for the second time.
It had been a trick; Valerie didn't share anything regarding her breakup with David. She had instead attempted to pry out of Brenda what had happened to cause Dylan to lie to Kelly, who then told the gang, which led to Steve asking Val about Dylan leaving Brenda two years prior.
That was when Brenda began to pretend that they had never been together in London at all to everyone except Valerie, who had successfully squeezed the details out of Brenda when she had become drunk enough.
Brenda had forgotten that Brandon already knew, that telling Brandon in an email of Dylan's decision to move into her flat had indicated something. She was unaware of Dylan's offer to Brandon to meet up on what would have been the honeymoon of Brandon and Kelly.
It had seemed to Brenda that if Dylan wanted to pretend they had only been together for a handful of months, she would help to simplify his lie by pretending London had happened in a completely different reality, to somebody else.
Lies ran rampant in their gang; scorching pain, too.
Brenda had assumed no one other than Valerie knew the precise details, though she should have expected that Dylan would eventually reveal to Brandon all.
Brenda would have been gobsmacked to learn she and Dylan would one day be together in London again, discussing honeymoon ideas of their own.
Both Brenda and Valerie unfortunately knew firsthand how catty and vindictive other women could become, especially if they felt threatened.
Brenda, however, also knew that women could be the best confidantes and seek to raise each other up, too.
It had just taken a little longer than it should have for her to experience the latter.
It had taken Valerie even longer, who had been guilty of her own catty and vindictive behavior when sucked in by the immature mentality of the twentysomethings that came into her acquaintance within the wealthy part of Beverly Hills.
"Nine-year olds don't have multiple best friends, Bren. They have new best friends," said Steve, whose matter-of-fact statements had released Brenda from her reverie. "I know my daughter. She'll come home, tell Sydney Shepherd all about her new best friend Mina Sullivan, Sydney will get jealous, they'll fight, Sydney will probably be a little witch, Mads will come home crying, she'll call Mina, and then she'll forget all about Sydney Shepherd."
Brenda wondered when Steve had become an expert on the fickleness of elementary-aged girls.
It had to have been due to his single-parent experience of raising one.
She mused over whether she and Dylan would also be faced with the best friend dilemma of their own nine-year-old daughter, or perhaps their nine-year-old son.
"You'd let Maddie call Mins long-distance?"
"Uh, what exactly do you think we're doing, Bren?"
"That's different, Steve. We're adults. We make our own money. Pay our own bills."
"I don't care if Mads wracks up the phone bill."
"If you say so," said Brenda, who simultaneously appreciated Steve's attitude and believed he may come to rue his decision later on.
"Did I tell you I found out who Sydney's grandpa is, by the way?" asked Steve.
"You didn't," said Brenda. "I'm guessing by your tone, it's someone you don't like?"
"Oh, I have no problem with Sydney's grandpa, who it turns out Mom's known for years. It's his son I hate. Sydney's uncle."
"Wait, hate?"
"Fucking loathe with every fiber of my epic being, Brenda."
"Chuckie?"
"Don't say that name!" said Steve.
"Not Chuckie, then?"
"Brenda!"
"Sorry."
She had attempted to think of who else would create within Steve a level of animosity that rivaled the lifelong acrimony he felt towards his mother's old television child.
"Bren, her grandpa is Cormac Sears."
He had lost her.
"Am I supposed to know who that is?"
"Sears, Bren! Sears!"
"Oh my God," she had said, and then busted out laughing for so long that Dylan and their Maddie had both rushed over to her in apprehension.
"Callum, please pay attention," Brenda sighed, having caught Callum Reid distracted for the eighth time that day.
She'd realized during the eighth time that Callum was distracted by none other than Madeline Sosna-Sanders.
Madeline seemed quite taken with Callum, too, which would not go over half as well with Steve as had the introduction of Mina Sullivan.
"Mrs. Walsh, when are we gonna get on stage?" asked Callum, in the thick accent of Aberdeen.
"When we learn the choreography," said Brenda patiently. "Not a Mrs," she added with a kind smile.
"Yet," said the deep voice entering the dance studio.
"Yet," she conceded, feeling her smile quadruple at the mere sight of her fiancé.
It still stunned her that Dylan McKay, the man Brenda had once believed she had successfully discarded from her life, was now her fiancé.
Or that Dylan McKay, who loathed shopping to an immense level that it had caused within his previous relationships quite the handful of quarrels, had taken on the brunt of their wedding registry creation to alleviate Brenda's possibility of a burnout.
"Thought I'd take my two favorite girls out for tea," he said. "Looks like you aren't quite done yet, so I'll just wait over here."
She noticed that he had begun developing a bit of an accent as of late, which Steve had taken enormous pleasure in mocking.
It did sound peculiar; the majority of Dylan's voice coated in the laidback dialect of southern California surfers, and the rest of his voice picking up on the accent of Estuary English, as Brenda's intonation had done many years prior when Shane successfully coached out of her the overly posh accent of an American trying too hard to sound English.
Dylan had even begun saying a few words in the accent of South London, primarily due to the frequency of Vee in their home.
Vee had softened on Dylan, with the continued warning that should he ever hurt Brenda in any way, he would answer to her. Dylan had asked Brenda if she knew any women whose first names began with V who did not terrify the living daylights out of the men around them. Brenda had said she had once known a Victoria with a gentle manner, who had moved back from whence she came following their graduation from RADA. Dylan had responded with his determination to find her other V-named women to befriend.
"We'll be done soon, love," said Brenda.
The children before her emitted dragged-out oohs that sounded equal to the dragged-out oohs of American school-aged children, despite Madeline being the only American child in the room.
American-born, that was, for Madeline had already begun asking Mina how she could become a British citizen, too.
"Mrs. Walsh?" asked Callum again.
"Yes, Callum?"
"How d'ya ken when you love someone?"
He looked straight at Madeline when he said it, causing there to arise in the young girl two cheeks that appeared covered in rouge.
Dylan's eyes took in Callum Reid the way their new Norwegian Forest cat took in an ankle it believed tasted particularly delicious. Brenda had purchased the red-and-white furred cat for Madeline from a local shelter with the assurance to Steve that Sakura Sanders, as she had become to be known, would remain a permanent resident of London and would not be flying back with Madeline.
"You're much older, for starters," Dylan answered, his lack of humor in the situation clearly displayed upon his pursed lips. "Much older. In your twenties. Yeah. Twenties. Madster can't even look at a guy 'til she's in her twenties. Her Daddy said so."
Steve had said sixties.
Dylan had agreed with Brenda that Maddie not dating until she was in her sixties was a tad ridiculous, and had coaxed Steve into reconsidering.
It had then become her forties, with Steve saying he would not lower her permitted dating age further solely due to his fear that Madeline would move a great distance away.
"GD!" said Madeline, burying her face into her elbows to hide her mortification.
"When did you know you loved Maddie's goddaddy?" asked sweet Penelope Wilshire.
"Oh, that's an excellent question, Penelope. Got an answer for us, Bren?" asked Dylan, tilting his head at her.
"We're supposed to be practicing our dance steps right now," said Brenda.
"But you've got a ring," said Penelope. "My Mummy says if you've got a ring, then you've got an in-love. Mummy says an in-love is better than a love, but I love my bunny rabbit and Daddy isn't half as fun as my bunny rabbit, even though Grammy says he's Mummy's in-love."
"That's right," said Dylan, "my Bren does have a ring. Notice how its sparkle isn't anything close to the way your teacher is sparkling as she glares at the man who's her in-love love?"
Honestly, Brenda was never going to successfully teach the majority of those children anything if they kept up their questions, and if Dylan persisted in aiding the children in their interrogation.
"Then how did you know you loved AB?" asked Madeline in a blatant attempt to get back at her godfather.
"I'd like to know that myself," said Brenda, sharing a conspiratorial grin with her favorite niece.
"I'll tell you both over tea," said Dylan.
"You'll tell us, right, Madeline?" asked Callum.
Madeline, who was called Maddie, Mads, Madster, MnM and other such names, but never Madeline, appeared positively bewitched.
Brenda couldn't decide what she found more adorable: her Maddie's reaction to Callum, or Dylan's perturbed reaction to their Maddie's reaction.
"Right then, time to practice, children. You wouldn't want your Mummies and Daddies to learn that you haven't attempted the steps they're paying for you to learn, would you?"
That got even Callum Reid to quieten and practice the choreography for the remaining fifteen minutes.
"I don't like that Callum," said Dylan as they waited for Madeline to finish her conversation with Mina. "Our Madster was only just saying back in May how boys her age should be avoided at all costs because of their cooties. Let's go back to that thought."
"And last year, Maddie was planning a wedding in Vegas to a Chiefs fan she never even introduced herself to. You might need a lesson in nine-year-old girls, Dyl," said Brenda, in the midst of cleaning up the studio.
Hands weaved around her, sliding up to grasp Brenda's chest as Dylan pressed against her back.
"Baby, I have to finish cleaning," she said.
"I can't help it," he said. "You know your ass in these leggings drives me wild."
"My ass in baggy trousers drives you wild."
"Yes, your ass in a paper bag would drive me wild. Your point?"
"That would hurt like hell."
"Nah, I'd just tear it off you."
"Save something for our wedding night," she laughed, turning in his arms.
"You better make sure Donna makes you a copy of that dress, 'cause I'm ripping it off of you. January is taking its long-ass time to get here." His lips dove into her neck, brushing along her skin.
"That's how time works, baby. There's this thing called a calendar. First, you have September - which is what we're in - then something named October, then November, Decem -"
"You've got one sassy mouth, Mrs."
"Not a Mrs yet," she reminded him.
"Good as," he said, angling her chin up to engage in a proper snogging session.
"GD, do you think Callum can kiss the way you kiss AB?"
Dylan sputtered against Brenda's lips, doubling over in a hacking cough.
"Why do you ask, sweetie?" said Brenda, repeatedly patting Dylan's back until his choking ceased.
She unthreaded the ballet bag from Madeline's struggling hands to swing it onto her shoulder with ease.
"Callum better not kiss the way I kiss your auntie," said Dylan as he began to regain his voice.
"Do you want Callum to snog you?" asked Brenda.
"Brenda," said Dylan in a tone of warning.
"I just like the way he talks," said Madeline with a shrug. "I wondered if he kisses just as well as he talks."
"That's the brogue of the Scots for ya, Maddie," said Brenda, in a passable accent that sounded more Glaswegian than Aberdonian.
"Remind me to keep Mads out of Scotland," said Dylan.
"So much for my weekend surprise."
"Brenda!"
It amused her, the way Steve and Dylan, of all men, had become wary of those boys who showed an interest in Maddie.
Brenda had discovered an extensive entertainment in teasing both men about becoming her father, to Steve's and Dylan's annoyance.
They'd get over Madeline's future love stories, in time, for Madeline Sanders had already begun to draw many eyes from boys and girls alike.
"How about we help Auntie Bren finish cleaning up and then we can go for tea?" said Dylan.
"I'm nine now, GD," said Madeline. "When can I try coffee? Callum and Mins have both tried coffee."
"Mads, if it were up to me, you would've had your first sip of coffee when you were still a baby. It's not up to me and your father said not 'til you're fifteen. If you want to keep visiting AB and I, you'll have to listen to your dad so I can stay on his good side. We can stop by the Italian sweets shop and get you a tiramisu, but that's as close to coffee as Steve-o said you're allowed right now."
"Don't worry, Maddie," said Brenda. "Tea is infinitely better than coffee. You're not missing out."
"Don't listen to your aunt," said Dylan. "She lies."
"Don't listen to your Goddaddy," said Brenda. "He lies about me lying."
"Tea infinitely better than coffee." Dylan's disapproving mutter accompanied the shake of his head. "And you call yourself an American."
"You realize I've almost lived in London longer than I lived in the US?" she said.
"We've still got a good few years 'til then," he said.
"So that's a no on Callum kissing well?" asked Madeline.
"That's an, you're not gonna find out," said Dylan adamantly.
"When was your first kiss, AB?"
Dylan, who knew precisely when Brenda's first kiss had occurred, begged with his eyes for her to not reveal that she had been younger than Madeline.
"Why don't we find out when your GD's first kiss was, instead?" she suggested.
"I was eleven," said Dylan, satisfied over his win.
"So I can kiss when I'm eleven?" Madeline jumped forward to take Brenda's hand.
"Take it up with your dad," said Dylan, wrapping an arm around Brenda's waist. "Just make sure you don't kiss anyone wearing braces. You'll regret it, trust me."
"What if I'm the one in braces?"
"Then you'll need to be cautious."
"What if we're both in braces?"
"Then no kissing, period. Easy solution."
Their banter kept Brenda laughing all the way through cleanup and then onto the upscale tea salon Dylan had booked as a surprise for Madeline. Whilst waiting for the arrival of her requested order, Madeline persisted in her inquiry until Dylan shared that he had known he would love Brenda from the first moment he saw her at the lockers of their alma mater.
Brenda, in turn, told Madeline that she may have considered loving Dylan from the exact same moment. Dylan had been a bit hung up on the "may" part of her statement, and asked how Brenda could not be certain.
She was saved by the arrival of their tea and Madeline's introduction to Knightsbridge Pear & Apple.
Dylan whipped out Brenda's mobile to snap a photograph of Madeline trying a macaron. Brenda then began to repeatedly capture the two together, until Dylan took the mobile from her hands to give to a passing tourist from Tipperary and requested a picture with his girls.
They then took Madeline to their shared favorite bookshop, where Dylan proceeded to buy a number of poetry books for Madeline and Brenda balanced it with a selection of favorites from her childhood.
They returned to a living room that appeared an absolute wreck, with buttons, beads and fabric samples spread out all over the carpet.
"Brenda!" said Donna, rushing over to her with Katie in tow, "Thank God. The company who was supposed to be shipping me the fabric for your dress has declared bankruptcy and shut down, can you believe that? I have to find a completely new fabric!"
"Don, breathe," said Brenda, placing a hand on Donna's elbow. "We still have months to make my dress and I can always purchase one locally, if it comes to that."
"No way," said Donna. "I've known you since we were fifteen. You let me cry on your shoulder when I found my mother with that guy."
"Donna; that's what friends do. You don't owe me anything, especially if it's going to stress you ou -"
"Bren, when David told me he loved me, you were the first person I ran to tell, even before Kelly. You and Dylan supported us together before the rest of them did. You welcomed David immediately. I know how upset you were that you couldn't come to our wedding. It was perfect, but having our favorite twins there would've been even more perfect. Your wedding is going to be nothing short of perfect and no event is fully perfect without a DMMS original. There's a reason life reconnected us, Bren. I'm definitely making your dress, so unless you actually want a different designer, then stop."
Brenda did want a DMMS original, but not if it would be at the expense of Donna's mental health.
Madeline looked between her aunts as she licked the ninety-nine purchased by Dylan.
"C'mon, Mads," said Dylan, cupping the girl's shoulders. "Need someone to keep me company 'cause your aunt Donna said I'm not privy to these kinds of discussions. Something about Bren and I having enough bad luck as it is, which is true, so let's do everything we can to avoid more." He leant forward to peck Brenda's lips. "If you start feeling stressed, you know where to find us."
"Dyl, you're going to stress yourself out worrying about me getting stressed."
"Tell that to your doctor and my fiancée's high BP," he said.
"It's nothing," said Brenda, "I'm always overactive this time of year."
"What's BP?" asked Madeline.
"Uh, it stands for British Parliament," said Dylan.
"AB's right. You do lie."
"As a British citizen," said Katie, "I can tell you that your godfather is half-correct. It stands for British Petroleum."
"What's petroleum?" asked Madeline.
"Gas," said two women and Dylan.
"Gross," said Madeline, wrinkling her nose.
"Not that kind of gas," said Dylan.
"So it's not the kind of gas that Daddy said aunt Donna had loads of when she planted uncle David's seed and grew Joni?"
"Mads, c'mon, I've got some books for you to look at before you end up the only fourth grader in your health class next spring still believing that seed theory," said Dylan, whispering his gratitude to Katie as he left the room with Madeline.
"I hope you mean children's books!" Brenda yelled out.
"Excuse me, missy. You're over here worried about me stressing out, and you're the one with the high BP?" asked Donna, looking Brenda over with a creased brow.
"My physician's just concerned I'm overdoing it and she's got Dylan equally as concerned," said Brenda, waving a dismissive hand. "But she tells me that every autumn and nothing ever happens. It's nothing to worry about. Certainly nothing for you to tell Bran about, Don."
"Shane did mention you've left little time for rest in your schedule," said Katie, becoming concerned herself.
"Her brother's like this, too," said Donna. "The Walsh twins are the worst at resting."
"I couldn't turn down RADA when they asked me to direct this year's program and I couldn't turn down the opportunity to perform with Vanessa Redgrave," said Brenda, who could not understand how the others failed to comprehend that she had needed - nay, wanted - to do both.
"Along with volunteering at the Dogs and Cats Home in Battersea," piped in Katie.
"That's only on the weekends," said Brenda.
"Watching Maddie," said Donna.
"That's temporary."
"Offering for me to stay here."
"Why wouldn't I offer? You'd spend a fortune on a hotel."
"You've also been worrying over Val, Brandon and me," Donna finished. "While we've been worrying about you."
"I think I have a little more reason to worry over the three of you than you have to worry about me."
Brandon continued to attend therapy, both in the emotional aspect and in the physical. Valerie was still recovering. David said that Donna hadn't been herself since their miscarriage.
Brenda thought all three's problems to be far worse than hers.
Besides, she didn't have problems; she simply had a crowded schedule, as did many people in the Ferris wheel of life. Perhaps it had become more crowded than her usual schedule, but Brenda had been constantly going since the moment she secured her first role upon graduation from RADA and she had absolutely no plans to slow down anytime soon.
"Brenda," said Donna, "just because you and Bran are convinced you both can do everything - in fact, I'm pretty convinced that you can do everything - it doesn't mean you actually have to do everything, all at once. Yes, you're terrific at what you do and yes, you're incredibly talented, but you're also only human. Humans need breaks. Your body needs a break. It doesn't make you any less of a strong woman, Bren."
Brenda Walsh didn't take breaks. When she'd initially planned to take one the previous year, she had instead joined Theo's tour.
Now that her career was at its peak, she certainly couldn't, wouldn't, and she felt shouldn't, take a break.
"We can speak to RADA," offered Katie. "Perhaps you and Shane can co-direct."
Brenda didn't hate the idea; however, she was not terribly keen on the notion of a man sharing half of her responsibilities, even if it was her best mate Shane.
She visualized the response Val would have said to Katie had she been standing there at that moment.
"That won't be necessary," Brenda said.
"Bren, you're always taking care of others," said Katie. "You may be the most generous person I know. If you're not going to take care of yourself, at least allow all of us to do it."
"I'll let you know if I change my mind," Brenda assured her friend, "but for now, I'm perfectly content with my schedule."
"She's always been like this," Donna told Katie. "Bren never slows down. She's constantly doing a thousand things at once. She multitasks better than I do and I have three kids!"
"Really, Don, I'm okay," said Brenda. "Sure, my BP might be a little higher than it normally is, but that happens to everyone. I mean, come on, Don, you work in one of the most fast-paced, high-demand industries there is. I'm sure your BP raises too, every now and then. Everyone's does. I'm healthy. Truly. No need to concern yourself."
"Yeah, sorry if I don't believe you," said Donna. "If you're gonna insist on faking that you are, then please help me choose another fabric so I can get this new order in and get to work on your dress. They'd all look fantastic on you, but this is your wedding dress, Bren. It should be what you want, not what you think I think you should want."
The problem was, Brenda didn't know what she wanted for her dress. Her only requests were that it not be solid white and that it be ombre at the bottom of her dress skirt.
The perfect beach-themed dress for a beach wedding, Brenda thought.
They had selected January for three reasons, the first being that they had both wanted to marry on the fifth. The second was the weather, which Dylan had said frequently felt incredible and not too warm in January.
The third, Brenda pointed out, was that Kelly would have given birth by that time, which allowed Brandon to be at Dylan's side along with Steve and David.
Brenda vehemently refused to marry without Brandon.
Dylan had said if Brandon was unable to attend, then Dylan would take Brenda to the London City Hall to elope and they would have their ceremony at a later date. Brenda hadn't been fond of that idea, either, but her desire to become Dylan's wife had ultimately won out over her desire to have her twin at her wedding.
She had agreed, praying they would require Dylan's plan only as a backup.
Brandon had been there for Brenda's first wedding, when she had married her stuffed chipmunk at age three. She was determined that he be there for her last, when she wed the man who held ownership of her every organ.
Dylan said he also wished to have Brandon there. He did, however, wish a significant amount more for Brenda to become a McKay and would make that happen in whatever way necessary.
There had been no need for either to fret, for Kelly was delivered of two boys in early November. Both Ben and Arian were healthy and given to a mother who had come out of delivery equally as healthy as when she went in.
Brenda and the Silvers were told by Brandon together, allowing Brandon's sister and Kelly's siblings to learn of the news before the rest. Brenda found herself not covetous, but rather overjoyed at her brother's elation.
She was quite sure she had never heard Brandon so exhilarated, with the possible exception of the day he had adopted Sammy.
The entire gang had guffawed over the delivery date, which had been slated for early December and instead meant the month of November was bookended by the birthdays of both sets of Walsh twins.
Brenda and Dylan flew out to meet their new nephews, identical twins who seemed the perfect mix of their parents. The future McKays flew back with Valerie; hosted Thanksgiving at their home for a number of their friends at Brenda's insistence and Dylan's hesitation; attended an environmental conference together which saw Dylan as a keynote speaker on the importance of marine conservation; and, by the beginning of December, Brenda had begun to feel the burnout she'd consistently assured everyone she wouldn't get.
She did not want to admit such to anyone, especially Dylan.
She soon came to realize that had both of Dylan's chosen careers not allowed for him to create his own hours, she may have never seen her fiancé at all.
It didn't help matters when a certain individual appeared, in the audience of one of her matinees.
"Bren?"
Approaching the stage curtain which Brenda presently peered through, Dylan lightly touched her shoulder.
"Bren, you're ashen. C'mon, I'm getting your understudy and we're going home."
"No," she said, whispering, "I'm fine. It's just," she swallowed, the lump in her throat slicing into her quickly chapping lips already damaged from the recent harsh drop in temperature, "he's here."
"Who?" asked Dylan, immediately Argus-eyed. "Who's here, baby?"
"Brenda," said Shane, popping up behind them in his own garish costume and outlandish wig that boasted an array of atrocious colors, "don't look at the audie - oh, bleeding hell, you already have."
"Wachinski," said Dylan, a building rage consuming his tone, "don't tell me that who I think is out there is out there."
"Yeah," said Shane, "afraid so, mate."
"The fucker thinks he can just show up at Brenda's performance?" Dylan practically tore open the curtain.
"Dylan, let's just ignore him," Brenda pleaded.
"Not after what he almost did to my girl. No."
"Dylan, he's been in prison."
"Yeah, and? So have I."
"He was there for way longer. Yours barely counts in comparison. Yours barely counts, period."
"Doesn't matter. It's still on my record. If that fucking Ringo says one word to you, I'm doing a whole lot more than ignoring him."
"He'll tear you apart."
"Bren, he's lucky I haven't marched out there and torn him apart."
"Three minutes until curtain," announced the director. "McKay, you should be heading towards your seat."
"Can I stay back here?" asked Dylan. "Just this one time? I need to keep a close eye on my stubborn girl."
"Alright there, Walsh?" asked the director, shifting a clipboard underneath an arm to survey Brenda. "Should we send Haggerty in your place and let you have a bit of a lie-down before this evening's show?"
"No need," said Brenda, "I'm marvelous. Couldn't be better."
Drawing back with a heavy dose of skepticism battling with the mentality that the show must go on, the director permitted Dylan to remain backstage.
"You don't look so marvelous," said Dylan, gently grazing over Brenda's cheek with the dorsal side of his fingers. "Promise me if you start feeling dizzy or anything, you'll tell me before you get on stage. I'm serious, Bren. No one will judge you for using an understudy. Even Olivier used one."
"I have no intention of fainting on stage in front of everyone. If I start to feel like that, my love will be the first to know, okay?"
He scrutinized her and reluctantly nodded.
Brenda struggled with a million different emotions in that moment. Vertigo was the least of her concerns.
She went about her performance in her usual manner, slaying in song about her love affair with a swashbuckling sea captain.
She noticed her own swashbuckling sea captain glancing at her every now and again from the wings.
She sensed a second set of eyes, rimmed more in grey, penetrating into her from the audience.
It had been an entire nine months since Ringo had been released, a duration long enough for Brenda to have fallen pregnant and birthed a child of her own.
She certainly hadn't expected him to appear in the audience of her new show, where he could watch her to his heart's content.
The audience saw yet another successful performance to add to Brenda's expansive CV.
Only Brenda knew her precise level of success, how she had continued on in her role when every part of her demanded she flee.
"You were brilliant as ever, Bren," said Dylan following Brenda's second encore and change in attire, "but now we really need to get you home." He cupped her waist. "No offense, babe; you look worse than when you went on stage. I mean, you still look beautiful; you always look insanely beautiful, but definitely not marvelous, like you claimed."
"I don't feel so good," Brenda admitted, rolling her head onto Dylan's shoulder. "My arm hurts."
"What the hell do you mean, your arm hurts?" Dylan nearly shouted, gently grasping Brenda's wrist as he looked over her arm.
"No need to shout," she said, eyes trained on Dylan's studied gaze. "It'll stop hurting in a second. I probably waved it around too much in a tight sleeve. All those layers. There's a reason women stopped dressing in gigot sleeves."
"Bren, you're chalk-white and your arm hurts. I'm not buying that it's because of your costume. You wore a fucking corset last year and didn't feel any kind of effects like you are now. I unlaced those stays myself. I know how tight they were tied, much tighter than those sleeves. I'm telling your director to get the understudy in place for tonight. We're going home, Bren. I'm not hearing any more excuses."
"Who's Bren?" she murmured.
"That's it," said Dylan in a growl, "forget home. You're going to the fucking A&E." He slid his hands underneath Brenda's legs, lifting her into his arms as he would his new bride.
"Alright there, McKay?"
"Wachinski, thank God." She could feel the air rush in with Dylan's quick pivot to face Shane. "I need to take Bren to the A&E. Can you bring her stuff back to ours and keep me abreast of the Ringo situation?"
Dylan's heart rattled against Brenda's cheek as she tucked her face into the warm, safe fabric of his jumper.
"A&E?" asked Shane, panic seeping through his voice. "Katie!" he called over to his wife.
The smile vanished out of Katie's tone, followed by hurried footsteps that Brenda assumed were borne of Katie's own panic.
Brenda focused on the threads of Dylan's sweater; tried to, that is, for her vision had become distorted and the colors of the jumper had swirled into a bokeh.
"Babes, McKay's taking Bren to casualty. Can you go with them? I'll make sure the wanker doesn't follow and join you after I get this stuff over to theirs."
"Yes, of course," said Katie, extending her hand to rest on Brenda's hair.
"Does Bren have her next-of-kin card?" asked Shane.
"I - I don't think so," said Dylan. "Dammit, I think it's at home. Will they tell me anything without it?"
"Might do," said Shane, "but I'll bring it along, just in case."
"Thanks, mate," said Dylan. "It's in - in - fuck, why the hell can't I remember where Bren put that card?"
"Organizer," said Brenda in a crackled tone teetering just below a whisper.
"Organizer," said Dylan, somewhat calmed. "Right, yeah. Check the organizer where we keep the spare keys, near the brelly stand. Umbrella - umbrella stand." Dylan battled the choked tension from entering his voice that Brenda felt coursing through him. "It was one month. All we needed was one fucking month and I wouldn't even need to worry about whether they'll count me as my Bren's next-of-kin without that fucking card."
"Should I ring Brandon?" asked Katie.
"We should definitely call my brother," said Dylan. "But we'll wait to call when we have more information. Brandon will ask a thousand questions and I don't have any fucking answers yet."
"I take it that also applies to Val, Sanders, and the rest of the lads," said Shane.
"Yeah, don't call any of them 'til I give the word. I'll call Brandon once I know what's going on with my fiancée and then he can tell the others. Shit; someone's gonna have to tell their parents. Brandon - Brandon can do that and then my in-laws - almost in-laws - fuck; in-laws, whatever, can tell the Minnesota clan. But - but first B needs to tell Val and Sanders. Once they know, then you - you can tell the lads and Katie, can you call my mom and sister? I'm not having any of them shout at me for being the last to find out. I'd rather Vee have a wobbly than Val."
"Who's Val?" asked Brenda, glancing up at the bleared version of her fiancé.
His distant, reverberating speech replying Bren, what the fuck are you doing, you know who your best friend Va - Bren? Baby? Wachinski! Oi mate, take my keys and help me get her to the car. O'Leary, where's the closest A&E? Would an ambulance be faster? No? Brenda! Brenda, this no bailing thing is a two-way track, you know! I swear to God, you better fucking answer me, Mrs. almost-McKay! Payne, get the door! Bren, I've tried life without you. I don't want to do it again. I can't do it again. Please don't make me. I lo - fuck, baby, I love you. Everything I am, everything I have, is because of you. We'll find out what's wrong and get you the best possible care. Just, just please hang on 'til then. You gotta hang on. I need my girl. I need my best friend, and Val needs hers faded away as the world transitioned into a tenebrous haze.
-x
As always, thanks a million for the readership, reviews, follows, favourites, alerts, discourse, plot ideas, etc. Stay healthy and safe out there. x