Authors Note: I own nothing. No ownership rights to Beverly Hills 90210.

Phone Call

I'd been travelling for weeks by myself. Kel and I had finally called time on what had been a disastrous attempt at something more. Well maybe not verbally calling time, we didn't discuss the break up, but it was clear to both of us that it was over when we stopped travelling together. It had been over from the start, a start that should never have happened. Nothing good comes from dishonesty, betrayal and for me running away. It was doomed.

Last summer, I should have seen the signs. Easy, fun and light that's what it supposedly was, but when Bren came home and I was hit with what I had done, how I tried to hide it, pretend it didn't happen- I was ashamed; love shouldn't make you feel that, it shouldn't carry with you a weight of guilt, your body your soul shouldn't scream that you had messed up. And it wasn't just me, Kelly was despondent when Bren got back; the girl who had told me to stay with Brenda because she knew I loved her, and she had been right, but instead of maintaining the lightness she had shown me that summer now she was bitter and moody. She drew the eyes of everyone, painting her room black, screaming for attention; I should have known then that she would say one thing and mean another. That it would be constantly like that in everything; that I would be yelled at, publicly embarrassed, guilted and finally ignored if I didn't realise that her words and her actions never aligned.

This attempt at something different was clearly doomed from the start. It felt nothing like what I knew love felt like. There was no instant recognition that she was supposed to be more, it took twelve years, and her throwing herself at me countless times for me to even take note of her. And when I did, it never took me to a different place; just being in her presence never made me forget everything, all the pain and regret, it never made me feel calm and content. We had to be doing something physical for me to even get a hint of happiness. I didn't want to be open with her, there was no immediate disclosing of what I was thinking, feeling, there was no desire to share my past; I didn't want her to know me.

We were opposites in everything and not in the good way. I like quiet, reading, avoiding parties and crowds, I hated attention; she craved the busyness of life, she got bored, she hated being in her head and most of all she had no interest in being in mine. She didn't want to understand me and I had known her type from the start, it's why I thought it would be easy. No pressure, no confusion, she was a neglected child, had a father who didn't show up and she cared about what people thought of her; there was no great mystery there. It should have been easy. Weeks after travelling by myself trying to figure out what the hell happened this last year; how did I go from being desperately in love thirteen months ago, religiously working my AA program, and trying to build something authentic with both of my parents, to this?

Weeks of the French countryside, of finally being quiet and alone, finally grieving him, her and us, it all led me to the one conclusion I wanted to stop running. I wanted to go home.

It took an hour to track down her number, admissions required a lot of information, a lot of pretending that I was her twin and that I had accidentally thrown out the paper with all her new dorm information on it. It took a lot of family information that I had gathered over the years to prove the I was an idiot brother who was trying to get this information recovered before my parents Jim and Cindy Walsh discovered my mistake.

I held the number for two hours before I was brave enough to call the operator to put through the call. It rang out.

Walking away from that phone booth I started to convince myself that that was it, the universe was saying it was too late. I went back to my hotel room and began to pack, I had a return ticket to California that was leaving the next afternoon. I didn't know what I wanted or would find there but the grief of the last few weeks told me that I shouldn't be alone, my demons were calling and being alone without support would see them win.

By the time I got to Charles De Gaulle I was ready to leave Europe, it like everything else this last twelve months had turned out very differently to what I had planned. It had been everything I didn't want.

I was hours early for my flight, and as I sat there drinking coffee starring at the arrival and departures board I saw an upcoming flight to Chicago. It wasn't Minnesota but I knew there were regular connecting flights from there. Shaking my head I dismissed the idea that was forming, it was stupid. Three times I tried to read that page in my book and each time my eyes would dart back up to the board. One more try, I told myself, only one.

She answered.