ME BIG BIG DUMMY!

For all those who may have noticed confusion previously, this is why. I put the wrong chapter up. I know, i know, real intelligent. Especially given i have only NOW just noticed my mistake.

So i'm really sorry about that, but for all those new readers who have no idea what i am talking about, don't worry!

Seven

Dylan never thought he could be as shocked to see a person as he was then. Brenda was standing in front of him looking incredibly nervous for someone who the previous day had merely looked slightly put out.

"Can I come in?" Brenda asked, her voice quivering. It reminded Dylan of some times in the past whenever she would talk to him after she'd been crying.

Dylan nodded and stepped aside, watching as she entered the room, looking around. "For what reason do I enjoy the pleasure of your company?" He asked her as he shut the door, cramming his fists into his pockets and just watching her.

"I need to talk to you." She stated, turning to face him, and here he noticed she no longer looked nervous, but sad, given her eyes were beginning to get that damp look about them.

Dylan nodded, before realizing there was someone missing. "Where's Christopher?" He asked.

She shook her head. "He's with Brandon. What I need to talk to you about concerns him."

Dylan nodded, moving his hands from his pockets and walking past her. The surprise at seeing her had worn off and he once again felt the frustration from not being told about his son. "Are you here to tell me that I'm Christopher's father?" He asked sitting down on the bed.

Brenda stared at him shocked, before closing her eyes, hurt. Of course he would work it out himself she thought angrily to herself. I was a fool to think I could keep this from him. Without opening her eyes she nodded weakly, biting her lip.

"Great!" Dylan cried angrily.

"Dylan, I wanted to tell you, but I couldn't. I couldn't tell you over the phone, but at the same time I didn't have the money to get a flight to L.A. And then Brandon told me that you were trying to get back together with Kelly, and because I had received David and Donna's wedding invitation at around that time, I was hurt Dylan, and I didn't want to see you."

"But there was three years in between!" Dylan retorted turning to face her.

"I don't know what I was thinking after that. Only that I didn't want to ruin your chances of happiness, even if I didn't like your decision as to who made you happy, and telling you that I had a son, your son. I couldn't do that; I couldn't be that mean to Kelly." She admitted, turning her attentions to the carpet.

Dylan sighed angrily. "For the record, I'm not angry because I have a son, in fact I couldn't be happier. What I'm angry about is that I find out about it ten years into his life." When he finished speaking he bit his tongue, angry that his voice was rising when it didn't need to.

"Why did you leave Kelly?" Brenda asked timidly, afraid of his reaction.

Dylan turned to glare at her. "Why on earth do you want to know that? So you can gloat?"

Brenda winced. "You've been with her for six years. Why didn't you marry her or get engaged to her? Why are you here?" She didn't know why she was asking these questions, but she wanted answers.

Dylan watched her. She had no look of sinister curiosity in her countenance, and after a few moments, he walked over to the doors to the balcony, pushing the curtains aside and allowing sunlight into the room.

"I'm not going to lie to you Bren, but I always thought that if I couldn't have you, Kelly was my next option." Brenda followed him, taking a seat in one of the chairs that overlooked the balcony.

"Why because we came from similar worlds." He continued. "After being together in Beverly Hills for a year, old strains were popping up in our relationship, but we wanted to make it work, and a change of scenery was in the end what we needed.

"So we moved to New York, and we bought a club and everything was all fun and roses for couple years. More problems came up, but we were both willing to make it work, so we visited a counselor and she suggested that we both take a year off, maybe travel, just enjoy each other.

"So we spent a year on the road, however that was one of the worst years of my life – I never want to go to Paris, or Milan or any other 'Fashion Capital of the world' – because I was dragged from fashion store to fashion store. Then we came back to New York, and we went right back to how we were.

"Two years later, I noticed some guys snorting coke at the bar, so I have them kicked out, only to discover a couple of hours later that they're back in the club and Kelly's snorting a couple of lines. The past year, I've been standing upstairs looking down, watching as she snorts line after line of coke, and Bren, you and I both know what happened to me before I came to London." Brenda nodded remembering the mess he had been in when he showed up on her doorstep.

"Then, a week ago, I realized I'd had enough, and that I haven't been living a proper life since we agreed to give things another shot." He turned to look at her, taking the seat in front of her and leaning across the table between them. "Brenda, I want to find my life again. Nothing's been the same. When I stood on the sidewalk outside of the apartment building that night I left, it felt as though I hadn't breathed in years."

Brenda sighed and grabbed his hand. "So, where were you going to start looking?"

Dylan shrugged. "I don't know. All I knew was that I owed Brandon a visit, and that my legs were leading me." He admitted, staring at Brenda's hand which was centimeters from his own after she had let him go. "And I wanted to see you, so maybe I would have gone to London."

"It's a good thing you didn't." She smiled weakly, biting her lip.

Dylan could still see some tears in her eyes and instinctively reached across and brushed them away with his thumb. Brenda closed her eyes at the contact, unknowingly leaning into his touch.

"You don't realise how much I regret that argument." She whispered, her eyes opening slowly and finding themselves caught in his own. "Do you realise that after you left I didn't paint it at all?" She felt a laugh come from her lips, and she watched as he smiled, remembering how he didn't think they had needed to paint it at all.

His hand moved to brush strands of hair from her face to behind her ear, but he immediately returned his hand to her cheek. "What happens now?" He asked, brushing her skin with his thumb.

"You deserve to meet Chris properly, and I owe my family the truth." Dylan smiled at her, but they made no attempt at moving, just enjoying the moment they found themselves in and wishing it to never end.

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