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

Chapter Thirty-Nine

The phone rang a little after midnight, which was not unusual when Josh mixed up the timezones because of his near constant travel. My hand automatically reaches for the cradle ready to have the same conversation but with him providing a new nightly reason that I just needed to understand. Since I had called after my Vietnamese dinner with Dylan and Iris, it had become a every couple of nights thing. I had called and told him that while I loved and appreciated our time together, while he had been a great friend and supportive boyfriend I just didn't see us ever getting back together. That he deserved someone who was better than me. I told him to stop holding onto hope.

The phone calls had started after that.

He'd start with his usual friendly chats- maintaining the friendship; he'd then get into a diatribe of how great of friends we clearly are, how easy it was to laugh and talk to one another; and then came the plea to reconsider, I was told I was everything from scared to just not aware of what a healthy relationship looked like. I'd bite down my frustration and anger when he got too much, realising he was hurting. I made him hurt. It's why I felt obligated to keep answering his calls.

My groggy, "hello" said half asleep was met with a different voice than expected.

"Baby." My body immediately springs up- I was wide awake, not because of the name he rarely said unless he was lost in the moment of us enjoying each other but because of the tone.

"Dyl, what's wrong?"

"I was coming back from a late AA meeting having missed my one this morning getting the car. I… I stopped at a traffic light." His exhaling breathes sound shaky, "the gun came out of no where. I should of… I should of slammed my foot down and got out of there, I should have fought back, I shouldn't have had the window open, the top down. It was a stupid purchase, your Dad told me I should go for something sensible like I said I would. I just… I just liked my Porsche all our memories in it, I thought the newer model in fifty years it would be like my original one but just full of memories only of u-… I…"

"Dyl, where are you now?"

"The Beverly Hills Police Station."

"Okay, I'm coming to get you, and if you aren't ready to go if there is still statements and paperwork needed I'll sit with you."

"Baby, I don't want you driving out there by yourself this late. It's not safe."

"Dylan my car is in our condos secure underground garage, and I'll keep the locks on and windows closed. I'll come straight there." I didn't add that my car was not something people would steal. It was new and nice, but it was a standard small SUV it was bought because I liked the visibility on the road, it was bought because I had used Samantha's 'spare' car for most of the summer and I thought it was time to purchase my own now that I could afford it. I especially did not want to take advantage of her generosity.

He didn't put up any protest, I knew that meant he didn't want to be alone. I remember the feeling after the hold up. A gun pointed at you taking away all your control, your choices, knowing you are one reckless persons finger movement away from death- it was not something easily forgotten. It's not something you should be alone with.

I leave a note for Steve for when he is back from this weeks Keg party or Brandon, though I suspect my brother is in the dorms tonight. Andrea was obsessing over mid terms and wanted to stay close to the library.

He clung to me, he clung with his almost vacant but beady eyes. He was on high alert but emotionally checked out. When I confirmed with the police that we could go I started driving us back to his house after asking him if the car thieves had taken his house keys, he said no and held up the old key charm I got him when he first moved in there. It was a little flat plastic house with the word home on it. The home had been worn off and the colours faded less vibrant on the house. He said he couldn't lift the rings apart to get the new car keys on this one, he was waiting for me to do it with my nail's.

When we got to the house he all but jumped out of the car and immediately began looking around as he made his way to my drivers door. He walked as close as he could get to me, practically with both of his arms around me in fear of attack- I'm not sure he was aware of that though. Iris was on day four of her ten day desert retreat. A retreat that literally had them in tent's without any phones or electricity. I could already see the guilt she'd have when she returned, but I knew the camp moved daily. It was a walking spiritual trek and I had no idea how to get in contact with her.

Walking into the house Dylan dead bolted the front door and then checked the locks on all the other doors and windows. When he began to recheck the front door again I stopped him. Holding out my hand I silently ask for his. "Come on, come with me."

Once the plug was in the drain I turned the water on, fiddling to get the right temperature. He stood looking at me not sure of what was going on. When the temperature was coming out of the tap perfectly I stood back up and walked the step over to him and began undoing his shirt and and taking off his belt. He got the idea and began kicking off his shoes. When he was in the bath I quickly shed my clothes and push him to sit forward.

I know holding me will ease his fear's that I'm safe, but it won't ease his heightened anxiety that he needs to be prepared for an attack. Me holding him though, me wrapping my arms around him, me reminding him that I've got him that it's okay now. That he is safe with me here, that it's okay now, that there is no need to worry. That's what he needed- protection.

Dylan has taken many baths over the years with me. He knows that it's my way to relax, though it didn't stop him from often trying to convince me to relax in other way's whilst we were in there together. Tonight wasn't like that. Tonight was me holding him while his head rested on my chest, while he played with my fingers and I reassured him whenever I felt his body tense that it was okay that it was over, he was safe here with me.

Once we dried off we got into bed with nothing on. Nothing about this moment was sexual, it was completely about comfort. We laid there wrapped around each other, his body practically covering all of mine. His head resting on my chest, my hands running through his hair holding him there. Like our bath it was long silence's with touch being our preferred communication style.

"This is how it should have been after The Pit, you shouldn't have slept alone I should have insisted that I got to stay. Even if I had to sleep on top of the blankets or on the foldout bed just holding your hand you shouldn't have been alone."

"Dyl, we were younger then. I can't imagine that would have been an easy thing to convince my parents that it was needed even if it would have eased the nightmares. Regardless though, you were perfect through it all, you gave me all the support I needed."

"I failed though when you were attacked. I was so far from perfect, I yelled at you on that phone call. I made you cry."

My lips touching the crown if his head aim to soothe. "You needed to hit bottom. Your mum said that it was you hitting bottom. You weren't yourself, you hadn't been yourself for a long time, either had I."

His lips kiss over my heart, "I'd ask if you are yourself now but I know you aren't ready to answer. I know you still have too much your sorting out. I'm sorry about tonight I'm adding to that, when this started I swore I wouldn't-"

"Hey. You aren't adding to anything, being your family your support is as natural as breathing to me. It's one of the most uncomplicated parts of my life us being there for each other. I'm the complication not you." In the two weeks we had been sleeping together it was as close as I had got to admitting what I was struggling with when it came to us- me. In two weeks her had kept his word, no questions no big conversations seeking clarity. He had made the weeks fun and mischievous. With limited access to be alone behind closed doors due to roommates and Iris, he had made me reckless with his creativity. He had also begun to praise the maxi skirt, he was obsessed.

"You know I've been in some terrible situations, too many to count. I've never had a gun that close to me, pointed at me. I've never starred down the barrel. I don't… I hate how it's making me feel. How do you protect yourself from people carrying those? How do you protect yourself without having one too?"

The warning sign didn't register until Tuesday afternoon, the Tuesday after class when he had asked me to go somewhere with him. That warning was not clear until he drove me up to a firing range.

My breathes were deep as I tried to focus on my safe place and reason with him. I shouldn't have left on Sunday morning, I should have canceled my attendance at the cast photo shot for TV Guide. I should have stayed. He had spoken to my Dad that morning who was now his business manager, my parents had invited him over for brunch and I assumed that being around them would be comfort enough.

Dad had arranged for him to get a rental that day. It had helped because on Monday he had received a call first thing in the morning, he had driven out to the police impact lot to see if the car they recovered was his. It had meant he had missed class. It wasn't his more did he find it at the other five lots he checked. As we sit out the front of the firing range in the carpark he tells me that he found this place on the way back home and it helped. He had spent hours here the night before and it had helped.

"Dyl, I'm not going in there."

"Bren trust me. It's not scary, it's completely safe. Just give it a go and you'll see it makes you feel safe."

The warnings were ringing loud, Dylan was a quick fix kind of guy- it was his addiction speaking. Whatever the problem it was his default coping mechanism to find the instant fix. His Dad, he'd run to booze. His Mother, he'd run and hide in a pool hall. Our problems, he'd run and hide with a blonde.

"Are you thinking about getting one?"

I didn't hide the disdain at the idea, "Bren it's about safety. If every bad guy has one how do you compete, how do you protect yourself, how do you stop bad things happening? In eighteen months you've been held up at gun point, my dads been blown up, you were physically attacked, and I've been carjacked. We have a right to feel safe."

"None of those moments would have been made better if we had a gun on us. They all would have been made worse. Dylan this isn't the answer, this will just lead to more danger."

"No it won't." It was that trust me voice, the trust me of the Dylan addict. I knew that voice he had used it at the start of junior year, he had used it throughout most of senior year. That voice, it's sweetness it made nails run down my spine. It was a voice I was repulsed by.

I attempt to reason again with him, "the first night Iris left I came over." I didn't add it was after a particularly bad call with Josh, I didn't mention it that night either. "You were sleeping and I took your hidden key out and came in. You weren't expecting me. If you heard the door closed that night and if you had a gun would you have taken it out?"

"No, I'd know it was you." I knew he could feel me like I could him when he got close but I didn't trust it when adrenaline was rushing through him and fear was taking over.

"Dyl, you don't know that. Your mum could fly in to surprise you, I could come over without warning, one day without thinking you could turn it accidentally on either of us. I know the fear of that, you know the fear of that, do you want to risk ever giving your Mum and I that fear being the one holding the gun on us? Me looking at you in fear?" It was low but I didn't want to say the truth, I didn't want to say if he got one I wouldn't ever come back over. He looks ready to argue so I try again. "Baby, a gun isn't the answer to you feeling unsafe, and it being there at your place is going to make me feel unsafe."

Whether it's the baby or the risk of alienating me from his home, my words make the fight leave him. He runs his hand through his hair in frustration. "Bren I need to do something. I can't keep replaying it and being defenceless."

"Okay. Let's go home and figure it out."

Wednesday night finds us back in Andrea and my old defence class. He's more in control after meeting for an emergency appointment with his doctor that afternoon, after he and I went to an AA meeting the night before. Dylan like's the class so much, he likes seeing what I'm capable of that I practically have to drag him away from our trainer at the end. He's convinced Mike to offer him and I individual martial arts training. Dylan thinks that it would be good to know how to protect ourselves, us actually aiming for belts. I think it would be good for him to have something to focus on, a consistent activity that he can do at night that he needs to be fully focused on. Neither of us mention that it also commits us to being together a couple of nights a week to train.

Tuesday night I had gone home to collect a change of clothes and my study notes, I told Brandon about the firing range and mentioned until Iris was back I didn't want to leave Dylan alone when he wasn't coping. He offered to go instead but I mentioned with my experience with The Peach Pit I could relate to some of the thoughts Dylan was having. If he thought it was strange how often I was studying at Dylan's or how he had picked up on the fact Josh and I weren't together and I was refusing to discuss it, he didn't say anything. Brandon could see that I was in my head, and like Dylan he knew to give me time to find my way out.

Friday, Iris arrived back home. By then he had arranged for a new engine to be put in the old Porsche though with me staying there for the last few nights he had returned the rental and started driving with me until it was ready. His backseat driving had resulted in me throwing he said pegging the keys at him on the Thursday morning and insisting he drive rather than watching him continuously false break in his seat. With Iris coming home that morning and my family flying in that afternoon, we had driven separately on the Friday, him back in the Porsche. I had also taken my things out of the house before we left for class. He didn't say anything when he saw my bags, but I knew that his patience on us being a secret something was wearing thin. I knew this week when he needed more support he had a little resentment that he couldn't hold my hand at College when he needed it.