A/N: I'm feeling a little Val hate from the comments, so I wanted to start this section off trying to make her feelings clear. I never intended to have her intentionally going after Brenda's men… Also, I'm trying to bring some of the other characters further into the story, 'cause it was an ensemble show, and I've been neglecting people. The focus is still the Walshes and Dylan, but I'm bringing some of the other characters in.

Part Thirteen

The seatbelt light went on and Val leaned back against her headrest, heaving a deep sigh. The plane was beginning its descent toward LAX, and Val wasn't exactly sure that was a good thing. When she'd called the Walsh house to give them her flight information, she'd received a decidedly frosty reception from Cindy, and then Brandon had taken the phone and yelled at her for hurting Brenda. All in all, she wasn't even sure she'd be welcome in the Walsh home at this point.

Beside her, Dylan was shifting in his seat uncomfortably, and Val suspected that he too was conflicted about the return to Los Angeles. He'd begged and pleaded and cajoled the FBI, but in the end, Erica had been shipped off to an aunt in Washington state. Even though they'd have contact and visits, it would be hard for Dylan to be apart from his sister again. On the other hand, Dylan and Brenda had seemed awfully close lately, and Val figured Dylan must be anxious to get home to her.

Brenda.

It all came back to Brenda. From what Brandon had yelled at her, the Walshes had found out about Stuart somehow. Val hadn't called him when she'd left for Mexico, assuming she'd only be gone for a few days, and he must have called or stopped by the house in that time.

I should have told them sooner, Val sighed. She wasn't exactly sure why she hadn't said anything, except that she wasn't sure how to tell Brenda and the family without it sounding like she was only interested because he had been with Brenda first.

Of course, that was exactly the impression that keeping it a secret must have left anyway.

But it wasn't true. She hadn't even known who he was when they'd met, and by the time she'd found out, she'd already been head-over-heels for him. Stuart didn't treat her like his latest piece of ass, the way Dylan had. He wasn't interested in her for who she pretended to be, like Steve had been. Stuart made Val believe that he believed she might actually be worth something, that he might actually care about her. And even knowing he'd been with Brenda first, Val couldn't let go of the way he made her feel.

Val hadn't felt "good enough" for anything in a very long time. The Walshes were always nice enough, but she felt like their charity case or their pet project or something. And their friends hadn't exactly welcomed her with open arms. With Brenda back in Beverly Hills, Val felt like she didn't belong in their little circle at all anymore.

Val felt like she didn't belong anywhere anymore. Not when her own mother had made it clear that she blamed Val for her father's suicide.

Not even Stuart could fix that, but when she was with him, her father's suicide wasn't the central element of her being.

That, ultimately, was why she'd wanted the relationship to stay secret. If the "real" world knew about Stuart, they would have to leave their island paradise once and for all. And given everything that was going on in the real world, Valerie wasn't sure they could survive if the real world got involved.

"Val?" Dylan interrupted her thoughts, and when she looked over at him, she saw an impatient look on her face. "You need to get up so that I can."

With a mental groan, Val grabbed her overhead bag and filed off of the plane.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Going somewhere?"

David looked guiltily over at Claire, who was still in bed. He'd intended to sneak back to the dorm before she woke up.

"I have early classes," he lied, buttoning his shirt. "I thought I should head back to campus."

"It's barely six," Claire said, rolling over to look at the clock briefly. She rubbed her eyes and sat up, holding the sheet tightly to her chest. "Classes don't start until eight."

"I know, but I left some books in my room…"

"David, what the Hell is going on?"

That was, ultimately, the question. What was going on? Somewhere along the line, he'd become ambivalent about his relationship. Claire was beautiful and quirky and spirited, but for some reason, they weren't clicking. Lately, he'd been looking at what Kelly and Brandon had, and even at Brenda and Dylan, and he found his own relationship with Claire was lacking something, something that even Brenda and Dylan . And he had no idea what it was.

"I'm just going back to my room," David finally answered, shrugging. "I just have some stuff to take care of."

"Well, were you going to say goodbye?" Claire gripped the sheets tighter to her chest. "Or were you just going to disappear?"

"Of course I was going to say goodbye," David leaned forward to kiss her cheek. "I'll see you later."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"You ready to go, sis?" Brandon walked into the garage apartment and froze. "Uh… Bren?"

His sister was standing in the middle of the room, staring at her full length mirror, and she was totally naked. Brandon immediately turned and faced the door, which she really should have locked.

"Brandon! Don't you knock?!" Brenda shrieked. "God!"

He heard rustling behind him, but didn't turn around. The last thing he wanted was to accidentally see more than he already had. Actually, all he really wanted at the moment was brain bleach, so he could forget what he had seen. They might have taken baths together until they were five, but now, it wasn't cute anymore.

"Okay, I'm dressed," Brenda finally said a few minutes later. "We can go."

"Not to pry," Brandon said as he turned around, "but what were you doing?"

"Nothing," Brenda blushed, shaking her head. She grabbed her purse off the counter and impatiently tapped her fingers against her hips. Brandon knew she wasn't anxious to go to her chemotherapy appointment (the first), but she would clearly rather be having toxic chemicals pumped into her bloodstream than talk to him, which only made him more curious to know what she was up to. "Can we go?"

"Brenda, come on," Brandon touched her arm as she tried to push past him. "What's going on?"

"It's stupid," Brenda sighed, leaning back against the door frame. Her face was flushed and she deliberately avoided his eyes. Not for the first time, Brandon was struck by how small his sister had looked for the last few months. She had always been short, but her confidence, her presence had made her seem almost larger than life. In the last few years, her confidence had waned, she'd isolated herself, her presence had almost withered away to nothing, as her mediocre grades from the Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts attested.

Brenda had completely changed, and once again, Brandon felt a wave of nauseous guilt that he had never seen just how troubled, how sickly she had become.

"I'm sure it's not stupid," Brandon slipped an arm around her shoulders, hoping to reassure her. "Tell me what's going on."

"I was just… memorizing myself," Brenda sighed, toying with her hands, which were clasped before her. "I… after the surgery… and now chemo… I'm all different and I just wanted to remember."

"That's not stupid," Brandon whispered, pulling his sister into a full hug. As his fingers brushed her hair, he realized with a start that she would start to lose it soon. The weight of his sister's illness finally hit him, and Brandon clutched her tighter. "That's not stupid at all."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Shhh," Andrea whispered; rocking her daughter gently. Hannah had been crying for days on end. She was barely sleeping a few hours at a time, and that left Andrea barely sleeping at all. It couldn't continue. "Hannah, honey, shhhh."

Hannah only screamed louder.

"Alright, that's it," Andrea sighed. "You and I are going to the doctor, Missy."

Even a pre-med college student like Andrea could that something was very wrong with Hannah. She'd call Jesse from the hospital; for now, all Andrea could think of was getting her little girl medical attention.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Brenda felt a little like a desperate schoolgirl, as she frantically scanned the hospital waiting room and then slumped back in her chair with a sigh of defeat. It wasn't exactly an unusual situation for her; she'd never had cancer before, or been in the waiting room before her first chemotherapy session before, but the rest seemed to be a universal theme of her life since moving to California.

Dylan had let her down again.

He'd promised to be at her first appointment, and even though she more than understood his reasons, because after all, she'd encouraged him to go to Mexico, to recover his money and his sister, she was still hurt that he hadn't made it back on time. Mostly because the sinking feeling in her stomach told her she'd let herself come to depend on him again, and he was already breaking promises.

How was she ever supposed to trust him again?

"Bren," Brandon nudged her with his shoulder, shaking Brenda out of her thoughts, and gestured towards the waiting room doors. "Look up."

Brenda looked out into the hallway, and somehow, she didn't quite recognize the man nearly running down the corridor, nearly colliding with an orderly and a few patients as he ran. Until he stopped in front of her, out of breath and panting, but there, Brenda didn't recognize the man.

"You made it," she finally realized, her eyes welling up. "I thought you were in Mexico a few more days."

"I promised I'd be here," Dylan answered, sitting in the seat Brandon had suddenly vacated beside her. He grasped one of her hands with both of his and leaned forward so that their foreheads touched. "My plane got in twenty minutes ago and I came right here. I was afraid I'd miss it."

It all suddenly reminded Brenda of the first time she'd found a lump on her breast, when Dylan had come rushing in with a bouquet of flowers and an apology for being late, and it turned out he'd stopped at every hospital in the city to try to find her. She'd given him an out, then, and he hadn't taken it. And she'd given him a hundred outs since she'd come home, this time, and he hadn't taken a single one of those.

She'd been okay, the last time, a little scarred and a little scared, but she'd been okay. And they'd been okay. Maybe it would all work out this time around, too.

"Thank you," Brenda whispered, a tear sliding down her cheek. She wanted to say more, to tell him she loved him, that she forgave him, that they could try again, but she wasn't quite brave enough. She wasn't quite ready to speak the words, but she knew that she felt them. Gently, she let her lips touch his, briefly, not quite a kiss, but a start.

"Brenda Walsh?"

Hearing the nurse call her name, Brenda took a deep breath and stood, her family and her (dare-she-think-it?) boyfriend standing with her, rallying around her. Squeezing Dylan's hand and reaching for Brandon's, Brenda took a small step. It was time to start her chemotherapy treatment.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A/N2: Okay, there it was. That chapter was kind of difficult to write for some reason, and I hope it reads okay. It's kind of filler, but I hope it doesn't come across that way! I think the next chapter will have another little time jump, just to jog my writer's block, possibly more than a few weeks, because I don't really have B plots to move along here.