She didn't think a time existed where she had not been underpinned by a degree of terror.
Perhaps a time had existed, though it had to have been before her eighth birthday.
By her ninth, Valerie had become petrified of her father.
It had begun with Victor's depression, which, left untreated, led to his downward spiral.
In the years to follow, Victor would decide that rather than turn to doctors, he would turn to psychedelics. As he explored psychedelics, he explored his oldest daughter.
His hands had become vices upon Valerie's skin.
Her nightmares about the ordeal her father had put her through over the years had gradually subsided, rose again after Victor's murder masqueraded as a suicide, subsided a second time, and reemerged.
Every time Val thought she was rid of her terror, it came back to chow down on her as if she were a piece of Crab Rangoon.
Her terrors had become worse than ever before after David's suggestion that Abby Malone had been the one to kill Victor.
Val didn't know if she wanted David to be wrong, or if she wanted him to be right. If he was right, Abby had lied, but she had done that regardless. If David was right, Abby would have allowed Val to take the fall for Abby's actions.
Val didn't put it past her mother.
She wanted to tell Brandon. She wanted to tell Brenda; hell, she even contemplated telling Dylan.
She couldn't, not with everything Brenda had been going through.
Kelly knew. Valerie had no intention of talking to Kelly about any of it, but if Kelly knew, then Val figured she ought to tell at least one other person.
Not Steve. Steve would blab to Brandon.
Not Andrea. Not Clare. Had to be someone outside of the circle, or it would get back around to the twins.
Clare found out anyway, when Val opened her drunken mouth to tell a random stranger in the form of Kai's friend and neglected to check the proximity of Clare to their booth.
"Who all knows about this?" asked Clare after she managed to pry her mouth closed.
"You. Him," Valerie pointed at Kai's friend, whose name she had already forgotten. "David. And oh yeah, dearest Kelly also knows."
"You told Kelly?" asked Clare.
"As if I would tell Kel anything," said Valerie. "Puh-lease. We can thank my greatest love for that." She picked up her glass of vodka and swirled it. "Or are you my greatest love?" she asked the vodka.
"Valerie, you've got to stop hitting the hard stuff." Clare removed the glass from Val's hand. "There's got to be a better way for you to deal with this."
"You mean, go to therapy like Dyl? Stand up and announce I have an addiction just 'cause I like to get drunk every now and then? Go to a support group for women whose fathers saw them as sex objects? Is it my fault, Clare? Is it my fault for being born pretty? Would Daddy have left me alone if I weren't so goddamn desirable?"
"I'm going to call someone for you," said Clare. "Who should I call? Brandon? David? Dylan?"
"David's not around," said Val. "He went to New York for the week."
"Why is David in New York?" asked Clare.
"He's digging." Valerie took her drink back from Clare, splashing it around as she took a large gulp. "He's convinced that I'm not a coldblooded killer. And he probably won't be with me if he turns out to be wrong."
"I thought you didn't want to be with him?" asked Clare.
"I don't know how the fuck I feel about David Silver," said Val. "Most of the time, I can hardly stand to be around him, and then he does things like comfort me when everything feels so bleak and it gets me thisclose to begging him to stay. And he has really nice hands. God!" She slammed the glass down on the table. "Why does he have such nice hands!"
Clare examined Val. "Did you realize that every time you get this wasted, David comes up?"
"Doesn't mean anything," Val brushed off as she swatted at an invisible speck in the air.
"Or does it mean everything?" asked Clare. "Maybe it's time you admit to yourself that you're still in love with David."
Valerie snorted. "Yeah, okay. If I'm still in love with David, then you're either still in love or back in love with Steve."
"I'm not getting wasted over Steve," Clare pointed out.
"You might not be wasted, honey, but that wasn't water I saw you throwing back earlier."
"Look, Steve and I didn't work out. We tried it, twice, and -"
"And maybe you're mad at him for not coming with you," Val pointed out. "You felt hurt by him like he felt hurt by you, when neither of you were actually trying to hurt the other. Oh, but when David dumped me; man, did I want to hurt him! And I didn't. I tried to hurt him, but all I did was hurt myself to the point that I almost suffered for it. I'm fucked up, Clare. That's all there is to it. I'm fucked up, I fuck over everyone, and you're all better off without me."
"I know at least six people who would disagree with you on that, and I'm gonna call one of them right now," said Clare.
Val could barely feel her legs as Steve swung her over his shoulder.
"Oh Val." He clicked his tongue. "Why do you do this to yourself?"
"You're one to talk," said Val as she slapped Steve's ass. "You gotta firm up, Mr. Keg Head."
"I think he's plenty firm," said Clare, and then tried to backtrack. "I mean -"
"You think I'm firm, Arnold?" asked Steve.
"I think Val needs to sober up," said Clare.
"This is the second time you've used rescuing one of my friends to get close to me," he gloated.
"My friends," she corrected.
"Our friends." Steve moved closer to Clare. "Y'know, if you want me to kiss you, all you have to do is ask. Or kiss first. Either will work. Both."
"Sanders," said Val, "is your ass shrinking?" She pinched his butt.
"Fuck, Malone," said Steve as he leapt in the air, "how much did you have to drink?"
"I woulda had more, but Clare said no," said Val, pushing out her lips in an over-exaggerated pout. "If you ask me, it wasn't enough."
"And if you ask me, it was too much," said Clare. "Once, I can handle, but thrice; Steve, I'm concerned about Val. She was saying stuff tonight that; well, to say it cracked her I've-got-no-fucks-to-give exterior is putting it mildly. Val's taking care of Bren, but who Val needs to take care of is herself, and she's not doing that."
"Where to, Val? Home?" asked Steve.
"Because showing up like this won't scare Bren at all," Val dragged out. "And Dylan will love us both for not scaring Bren, he'll grant you a key to the city."
"Home with me, then," said Steve. "You too, Blondie."
"Me?" asked Clare.
"You see me looking at other blondies who need a ride because they also drank?" asked Steve.
"I can take a cab," said Clare. "Pas de problème."
"Pass de whata?" asked Steve.
"Pas de," Clare interrupted herself. "Never mind. I can take a cab, okay? No problem."
"Why do you hate me so much?" asked Steve.
"I don't hate you," said Clare.
"You're literally paying for a cab just to avoid getting in the car with me. What? Don't want your boyfriend to get jealous?"
"You are insufferable," said Clare, but got into Steve's car regardless.
Pretending to be asleep, Valerie was given the perfect opportunity to listen to the conversation between Clare and Steve.
She expected Clare to divulge everything Valerie had told her. Instead, Clare reiterated to Steve that she didn't hate him.
"I asked you to come with me, didn't I?" asked Clare.
"You knew very well that I wasn't going to come with you," said Steve.
"Yeah," said Clare. "You wanted to be where your friends were. And I wanted to be where my father was."
"It was more than that, Clare. Donna was getting over her attack. Bran and Kel were dealing with something of their own. Val; Val obviously had something going on that she didn't wanna talk about. Silver had just been diagnosed. I couldn't leave all of them behind to move to Paris with you. But I wanted to. Believe me; I wanted to."
"You wanted to? You never -"
"I was trying to let you go, Clare. Saying no to you was one of the hardest things I've ever done, but I had to do it."
"And ignoring my voicemail, the one I left you that summer; was that one of the hardest things you've ever done?"
"You wanted us to be apart. I was doing my best to give it to you."
"I wanted that, but," Clare mumbled.
Valerie strained her neck to hear better.
"But?" asked Steve.
"But I couldn't get away from you," said Clare.
"I know," said Steve. "No one can."
"I'm trying to have a serious conversation here, and you just want to be Mr. Egomania," said Clare.
"You couldn't get away from me," said Steve. "Obviously. Because I was ingrained in you."
"You were ingrained in me, alright."
Steve turned his head. "Clare?" he asked.
"Steve, when I was in Paris, I learned I wasn't alone," Clare said quietly, so quietly Val nearly fell out of her seat.
"Well, yeah," said Steve. "You were with your father."
"I wasn't alone, and you were ingrained in me," said Clare.
"Clare." Steve clutched the steering wheel until his veins popped. "What the fuck are you saying?"
"I was scared, Steve. We were broken up, I had applied for graduate school, Daddy's health was my priority, especially after his stroke; I was young -"
"Clare!" Steve parked the car. "Are you telling me what I think you're telling me?"
"Steve," Clare made to get out of the car, "I had an abortion. I don't hate you. But I know you, and now that you know this, you're gonna hate me."
Clare opened the door and walked out.
Steve's mouth flopped in the manner of a fish, as Valerie groaned and lunged forward to dispel her vodka onto Steve's lap.
"I don't feel too well," said Val.
"No shit, Sherlock," said Steve, unbuckling his pants. "You can rest up while I go out."
"Where are you gonna go?" asked Val.
"I'm gonna get hammered until I don't remember Clare Arnold's name," said Steve.
"It doesn't work," said Val. "I've tried it."
"I'll make it work," he said. "They don't call me the KEG Master for nothing."
"No one calls you that."
"No one you know," said Steve. "And after tonight, everyone will, 'cause I'm gonna keep drinking until I beat the Guinness World Record."
"The Guinness World Record for what?"
The Guinness World Record for how much shit one man could take in life and still remain standing, said Steve.
Valerie decided it wasn't the best time to remind Steve that that title had already been unofficially awarded, and to someone they both knew well.
xx
The more she allowed him in, the bolder his actions became.
It was a carefully planned domino effect. If she gave him an inch, he skipped a mile and went straight for a league.
He left the door unlocked when he showered. This had worked especially well one morning. Brenda had entered, bopping her head along to the music behind her headphones as she prepared to brush her teeth. Unable to get Brenda to hear him, Dylan had stepped partially out from behind the shower curtain, caught Brenda's eye in the mirror, and loudly said a good morning, beautiful.
Brenda hadn't replied with anything beyond a gasp, a clatter of her toothbrush falling against the porcelain sink, and a muttered apology, but Dylan didn't miss the quick exploration of Brenda's eyes as he asked her to throw him a towel.
He hadn't missed it when she had seen him pop out from under their car, too.
The assumption Dylan made was that as long as he continued recreating their memories, Brenda's mind would pick up on the tiniest action and flicker an emotional response.
He studied the tapes, reliving their story to help Brenda relive it.
As he recreated, he also created new moments.
Moments like offering to massage Shea butter creams into Brenda's increasing stretch marks, when Brenda became comfortable enough to walk around Dylan with her stomach frequently exposed.
She still wore bottoms with her bra, but Dylan thought it a solid start.
He asked Brenda for dance after dance, picking up the tempo with each album David played until Brenda herself pulled Dylan up for a fast dance.
She had become an evening regular in the store, helping Dylan and David to display records in a way Brenda thought would be more pleasing to the eye. Her days were spent with Donna. With Donna, came Kelly, and with Brenda, came Valerie.
It had taken all four men to convince Valerie to join the girls, with Brandon pointing out that only Val knew how to care for Brenda in the event that Brenda burst into a bad day in the middle of a good day.
Dylan had not experienced a bad day quite to the extent that Brandon had, and if it was anything like Brenda's bad nights, Dylan didn't want to experience them.
But Dylan wanted a life with his Brenda, and if that meant he would have to experience every bad moment with her, then he would stand alongside.
It helped to have Brandon there, standing with them.
They had reached the point where they could begin experimenting with how long of a time Brenda could go without Brandon's presence. What had started as a few hours had become several, and then whole days.
They hadn't tried nights.
Brandon being around the corner from the bedroom shared by Dylan and Brenda helped Brenda to be more at peace, though she understood that Brandon would not always be around the corner.
It was Brenda who proposed that Brandon go away for a weekend. It would give her the chance to get used to being apart from him, said Brenda. Both Dylan and Brandon picked up on her ploy, largely because Brenda kept hinting at Kelly's availability in her schedule.
The thought of being apart from Brenda for a whole weekend concerned Brandon. Dylan assured his brother that he and, if required, Valerie, would have everything under control.
"I could go to Tartu," said Brandon, warming to the idea. "There's a story brewing over there that I've been asked to look into."
"Where's Tartu?" asked Brenda.
"Estonia," said Brandon.
"Estonia," she said. "Ooh, I bet Kelly would love Estonia."
"It's not exactly the kind of story I could take Kelly to investigate, even if I wanted to," he said.
Dylan had learnt that the best course of action when Brenda and Brandon began to discuss Kelly was to stay out of it. He held Brenda from behind, breathing in her hair as he listened to the twins argue.
"Maybe Kel could help you," said Brenda.
"Kel's safer not coming with me," said Brandon.
"Safe?" asked Brenda. "What do you mean, safe? Brandon, what story are you working on?"
"Nothing for you to concern yourself with," he said.
"My brother says Kelly won't be safe if she comes with him and I'm supposed to not be concerned?" Brenda tilted her head up towards Dylan.
"Your brother knows what he's doing," said Dylan, smacking his lips against Brenda's head.
"I changed my mind," said Brenda. "Brandon isn't allowed to ever leave."
"Brenda," said Brandon.
"Okay, you can leave, but you can't go places you won't be safe," she amended.
"Bren, there's nothing wrong with writing the fluff pieces. Some people like to write them. Some live for that kind of stuff, and that's cool. But I want to do the hard news, Bren. I breathe the hard news. This is my chance to show them what I'm made of."
"Can you take someone with you?" she asked. "Just for my peace of mind?"
Brandon eyed Dylan as if he were giving serious consideration to asking Dylan, and then said, "I'll see if Steve wants to go."
Despite having uncharacteristically isolated himself and refusing to open up about the reason, Steve jumped at the opportunity. He asked Valerie along, who declined for the sole reason of remaining to help with Brenda.
Andrea was called, with Brandon starting the call telling the Chief that he could use her insight and ending the call commanding Andrea to not come along.
Andrea insisted.
Brenda on instinct offered to babysit Hannah. Andrea thanked Brenda and told Brenda that Donna had already claimed the title of Hannah's primary babysitter.
"Does Andrea know that I scream?" asked Brenda. "Is that why she doesn't trust me with Hannah?"
Dylan tilted his chin up from where it had rested on Brenda's belly in one of his many attempts to get their child to move for him. He had blown raspberries, laid his ear against the shape of their child, and had begun to stretch a pair of headphones against it as he played audiobooks in foreign languages.
"I'm sure Andrea trusts you with Hannah." Dylan paused the tape player and set down the script he had been helping Brenda learn. "She knows how good you are with kids, and how fantastic a mom you're gonna be."
"Then why is she letting Donna babysit when you and I can use the practice?" asked Brenda.
"Andrea's probably thinking that taking care of a four-year-old whose favorite thing lately is sticking crayons in her ears and using them as Q-tips might be too much for you this close to our third trimester," said Dylan. "Has nothing to do with whether or not she trusts you with her kid."
"I probably wouldn't trust a screamer around my child, either," said a downcast Brenda.
"Hey." Dylan sat up to pull Brenda into his arms. "You know what Alina said. Every bit of progress is a step forward, and you've made a lot of it, Bren. Enough that you talked Brandon into giving us some space."
"It isn't about giving us space," said Brenda. "I'm trying to give Bran his. He's done so much for me and I can't keep relying on him like this. I have to learn to rely on myself."
"Not just on yourself," said Dylan.
"Mostly on myself. I can't keep leaning on you, either."
"You can lean on me however long you need to."
"Dylan, I want to be able to rely on myself," said Brenda. "I want to be able to take care of myself and my baby without help." She held up her flattened hand as Dylan prepared his protest. "I'm not talking about raising her alone. I'm talking about taking care of her as you work, or getting to the point where I can work on my own. I really need to reach that point, Dylan. I was independent before, wasn't I? Lived on my own and everything?"
"For a few years." Dylan pushed Brenda's hair behind her ears. "You're by far the most independent of all of us."
"Was," said Brenda. "Not you're. Was. I was the most independent of all of you. Now every time I want to cook, one of you stands guard to make sure I don't burn myself or throw something."
"That's not why we," Dylan stopped himself to avoid starting an argument. "Bren, you're being too hard on yourself," he said instead.
"That's what Val always says," said Brenda.
"Then maybe Val can be right, on occasion."
"I just want to be fixed," said Brenda. "My father would love me if I was fixed."
Dylan realized where Brenda's reemerging self-hatred had come from.
"Jim called," he said, and breathed through his nostrils as his fists tautened. "When?"
"When you were at the shop," said Brenda. "He wanted to talk to me, but I didn't wanna talk to him, so David took the call and he asked David if I was fixed yet."
"I swear, Bren, sometimes I really want to fight your father." Dylan exhaled out a heavy breath. "There's nothing about you that needs to be fixed. Nothing."
"But -"
"There's things that can heal and are healing, but you aren't broken, Brenda, and frankly, damn your father for implying otherwise. You don't need to be fixed. Next time Old Jimbo calls, I'd like to speak with him."
"I don't want to take away her grandparents." Brenda looked down at her stomach.
"You aren't." Dylan raised her chin. "Jim is welcome to be in her life, as long as he stops trying to control yours."
"Has he always been this controlling?" asked Brenda as she curled into Dylan.
"My opinion of your father is heavily biased, Bren. I don't want it to influence yours."
"You don't like him," she said.
"It's not that I don't like him. It's that we have; ah, a history, and that history means I'm not overly fond of Jimbo and he's not overly fond of me."
"It has to do with me, doesn't it?"
"What brought you to that conclusion?"
"Just a feeling."
"I don't think Jim would be too happy to know I'm the one who knocked you up, no, but that's his problem."
"He'd have to know I was knocked up to know you're the one who knocked me up." Brenda turned her back towards Dylan.
"What?" Dylan looped his arms around Brenda and coaxed her to face him. "Jim doesn't know you're pregnant?"
Brenda gave a languid nod.
"Does your mother know?" asked Dylan.
"Neither of them do, unless Brandon or Val told them," said Brenda.
Neither Brandon, nor Valerie, had.
"At this point, I'm not entirely sure it's Jim's business," said Valerie. "He'd only be politer with Bren to avoid stressing her out, and Bren doesn't need that kind of fakery in her life." Val handed Brandon a stack of neatly folded clothing that Brandon added to his suitcase. "Fits better if they aren't folded, Brando."
"They wrinkle less this way," said Brandon. "It's been tough to not tell Mom," he added to Dylan. "I know she'd want to be here for everything, but Dad would insist on coming with her and Bren made it clear she doesn't want Dad around."
"And you?" asked Dylan. "Can't be easy for you to keep something this big from Jim."
"Any goodwill I had toward Dad vanished when he made Bren cry so hard that she collapsed in my arms," said Brandon.
"You didn't mention that." Dylan became angrier than he had already been. "Jim made Bren collapse?"
"She was still in the process of healing from her surgery, so Dad himself might not have made Bren collapse, but he certainly didn't help anything."
"Then until Bren decides otherwise, I don't want Jim anywhere near her," said Dylan definitively.
"We're in agreement on that," said Brandon, shutting the lid of his suitcase. "Now, you both have my number and Steve's number. I wrote down the number of the place we're staying, the number of my boss for backup, the number of Andrea's pager, the number of -"
"We've got this, Brandon. Chill." Valerie embraced him. "Bren will spend most of the day with Donna anyway, and either me or Dylan will be with her the rest of the time."
If it were up to Dylan, he would permanently attach himself to Brenda.
"This is the longest I'll be apart from Bren since her accident, Val. I'm just worried how she's gonna take it," said Brandon.
"I know you are, Bran, but Bren wants to do this, and I think she's ready for it," said Val.
"Regardless, call me with any problems. Any problems," he said. "Any at all. I mean it. If Bren needs me, I'll cancel everything and come running."
"Val's right," said Dylan. "We've got this. Bren and I are gonna be married and her condition probably isn't curable. We're still gonna be dealing with the effects of it ten, fifteen years from now and, no offense, B; I love ya, but I ain't living with ya another fifteen years. Bren, yes; you, no."
"It's only been four, nearly five, months since the crash," said Brandon. "Nowhere near one year, let alone fifteen."
"And during that time, Val's become a pro at caring for Bren," said Dylan.
"As has Dylan," said Val.
Dylan shot Valerie a smile of appreciation for her vote of confidence.
It wasn't until Brenda herself came in, kissed Brandon's cheek, and swore to him of her wellbeing that Brandon felt slightly assured.
What Dylan didn't say was that he was more petrified of the situation than Brandon. He didn't know if he could care for Brenda alone.
Mostly alone.
He noticed that Val had also backed off somewhat, likely testing Dylan's capability.
The warming, brightening weather brought with it Dylan's plan to invite his girl for a day at the beach, which was thwarted by Brenda inviting him herself.
"You promised me a surf lesson," she said.
"After she's born," he said.
"I read up on it," she said. "Pro surfers can surf pregnant."
"Yes, but you aren't a pro surfer, babe. You're a beginner who's six and a half months pregnant. If you're okay lying on your belly on a board, I'll teach you the basics on land, but we aren't getting into the water. I've been doing this for decades and I still fall, so no way are you going out in the waves and falling. Not to mention the water could still be freezing and you could get a bad cold from it. Wait it out. For the baby's sake," he added to combat Brenda's obstinacy.
"After she's born, we're going to the beach every weekend until I become a better surfer than you," said Brenda.
"That's some serious wishful thinking but yes, if your doctors say it's fine and the weather isn't too rough, then we can go as often as you like."
"Then I'll wait it out," said Brenda.
Dylan taught her the basics, as promised. Upon noticing Brenda's face twitch from the constant movement in her arms, he suggested they rest.
He followed Brenda's gaze towards the water.
"You really want to go out there, huh?" he asked.
"I'm not sure if I do or she does, but there's something about it that draws me in." Brenda angled her head whilst remaining cross-legged. "Do you think it's too cold to swim?"
"Definitely," said Dylan. "But, hang on; I have an idea." He got to his feet and held out a finger. "I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere."
"Where am I gonna go?" Brenda leant back on her hands. "You drove."
Dylan dropped a kiss to the nape of Brenda's neck and hid a satisfied smirk in her hair as he watched Brenda's goosebumps appear.
His lips followed the prickly trail, until they halted on the edge of Brenda's chin.
"Weren't you going somewhere?" she asked breathlessly.
"Somewhere," said Dylan. "You gotta promise you'll stay right here."
Brenda pulled out a book from her knapsack. "I'll read until you come back," she said.
"I won't take long." Dylan nuzzled his face in her hair.
"At this rate, I'll be fully dilated by the time you get back and she'll be ready to walk out."
"That's so funny, I forgot to laugh."
"Brandon makes decisions faster than you leave."
"I'm going; I'm going."
He stood in the queue - line, he reminded himself, line - and watched the blurry outline of Brenda lie back on their blanket.
He made his request and handed over a wad of cash, thinking back to the last time he had been on a beach with Brenda.
It felt like years. In reality, it had been one.
Their group had gone down to the Jurassic Coast shortly after Dylan had returned from K2, before his life began going downhill. Mina had shown off her new swimsuit. Brenda had shown off her new wetsuit.
Had Dylan known that would be the only time he would see Brenda in the wetsuit he had gifted her for their last Valentine's together, he would have kept her in it a little longer instead of slipping it off.
But slipping it off had been well-worth it.
Dylan wondered if the wetsuit had been boxed away, or if Brenda had discarded it completely.
"I can't decide if you took longer to leave or longer to come back," said Brenda as she allowed Dylan to help her up.
"Your mother is so mean to me," said Dylan, pulling Brenda against him.
"Not mean," said Brenda. "I didn't like not knowing where you were," she admitted. "Not that you always need to tell me where you're going or anything -"
Dylan cut off Brenda's ramble with a finger to her lips.
"I'm your ride home," he said. "It's okay. I get it. Queue - I mean, line - was long."
"Queue for what?" asked Brenda.
"For this." Dylan snatched Brenda's hand and walked her over. "See that islet out there?" he pointed. "I got us transportation."
Brenda sat back and frowned at Dylan.
"Your arm is gonna fall off," she said. "You should've gotten two oars."
"You already pushed your arms enough with the lesson," he said. "I can handle this. You, just look around."
"It's so beautiful out here," said Brenda. "But you don't have to keep doing this."
"Doing what?"
"Doing things to try to distract me."
"Just so happens I can use a distraction, too."
Dylan anchored the kayak and lifted Brenda out.
"What do you say to a couple hours out here and then I'll get us home?" he asked. "Just the three of us in resplendent nature. No crowds."
"A couple hours isn't enough." Brenda turned her gaze up to the sky. "I could live out here."
"Not without me, you wouldn't." Dylan sat back and brought Brenda against him.
"Have you taken other women kayaking?" she asked.
"No," he said. "I don't kayak often, but when I do, it's usually alone."
"Usually?"
"Well, I did take you. Once. You and Shane had just broken up, and I thought it could cheer you up."
"Shane?" asked Brenda.
"He was your best mate at RADA," Dylan explained. "You dated for a bit."
"And you didn't hate him for that?"
"It was hard to hate Shane. He was way too nice of a bloke. Accepted me in immediately, even though he realized long before you did that my feelings for you were resurfacing."
"Did Shane and I break up because of you?"
"Nope. You and Shane broke up 'cause of Zahur."
"I don't understand." Brenda withdrew from Dylan to face him. "Did Shane cheat on me with Zahur?"
Dylan told Brenda that the entrance of Zahur to their group had caused Shane to reexamine his sexuality.
"So I dated a gay guy," said Brenda. "Nice." She stretched out her legs. "Can I meet them?"
Dylan's throat rebelled as he answered, "No."
"Why not?" asked Brenda. She looked down at the sand. "Is Shane mad at me for forgetting him?"
"Shane wouldn't be mad at you." Dylan scooted closer.
"Then why can't I meet him?"
"He was on the train, Bren," Dylan croaked out. "So was Zahur. And Mina."
"Then they're in Australia, aren't they?" Brenda's eyes watered. "In hospital? Can we go after I give birth? Or I could send them cards. Flowers. People send flowers, don't they? I saw lots of flowers in hospital."
"Bren," Dylan stroked her hair, "Bren, they aren't in Australia. You can only see them in London."
"Then we could go to London."
"We can absolutely go to London, but you won't see them there, either."
"You just said I would. I don't want them to think I'm a bad friend for not visiting them."
"They'd never think that."
"Dylan, I need you to be straight with me. You're terrified. Why are you terrified?"
"I'm terrified at how you're gonna react if I tell you where you can see them, Bren."
"They're in the ground." Brenda hunched her shoulders. "My friends are dead, aren't they?"
"They loved you, Brenda. So much," Dylan tried to tell her, but as he anticipated, it didn't help.
Words never did.
He held Brenda as she bawled for the loss of the friends he knew she felt in her heart, even if their images weren't in her mind.
Dylan brought her home, both of them spent.
"Bren's just staring into space," said Val. "What did you do?"
"Nothing!" said Dylan.
Valerie didn't buy his response.
"I mentioned Shane," said Dylan. "I probably shouldn't've, but I did, and Bren wanted to know if she could meet him. I told her she couldn't. She thought it was because he was mad at her. I told her he wasn't, and then - and then -"
"It came out." Val sat on the couch. "She knows."
"I don't know what to do for her, Val." Dylan teared up. "She wants me to be honest with her. I want to be honest with her, but my honesty hurts her. I watch her berate herself over things she can't control, and I want to be able to control them for her. But I can't. Every time I see Bren hurting, I die a little more. I want to go back. God, I'd give anything to go back."
"I know how you feel." Valerie reached out to Dylan.
He sobbed on her shoulder.
"You should tell her, you know," Val soothed. "Bren's convinced herself you're only interested in her because of the baby. If you want any chance with her, you have to tell her you believed my lie."
"I can't do that," he said. "I can't damage your relationship with Bren like that. I'm just gonna have to find another way to convince her that I'm here for her."
"The guy I first met would've told her immediately," said Valerie, impressed.
"The guy you first met thought he'd lost everything and had no more fucks to give," said Dylan. "The one you know now almost did lose everything, and it's his own fucking fault," he said through fresh tears.
"Bren didn't have to be on that train. Neither did you. There's a reason you didn't get on it, Dyl. You know I'm not spiritual in the least, but I firmly believe that."
"Drugs," said Dylan. "The reason was drugs. I let them ruin my life twice, and this time, I wasn't there when my girls needed me. All the therapy in the world won't get me to forgive myself for that."
He must have cried himself out to the point of exhaustion, for the next thing Dylan knew, he was waking to David's thunderous What the hell?
"Shush!" Val said. "You're gonna wake Bren!"
"Maybe Bren should wake up," said David. "See Dylan here all stretched out on you."
Dylan rose to his feet.
"Silver, you've got it all wrong," he said.
"Dylan fell asleep," said Val. "I just spread out a blanket over him so he wouldn't feel a draft and then he turned over and I got caught. That's all."
"You got caught," said David. "You sure did."
"We aren't even together, David! Don't get mad at me for something I didn't do just because I didn't want my best friend's baby daddy to catch a cold."
"Your best friend's baby daddy who just so happens to be your ex, Val! You know, it doesn't escape my notice that you forgive all your exes for everything, except me."
"What the fuck are you talking about, David?"
"You were so buddy-buddy with Noah after he; we won't get into that. Dylan here had no problem using you for sex, but now you're the best of friends. I bet you've even forgiven Colin, haven't you? But nothing I do is good enough. Why will you forgive them, and not me?"
"I don't want to get into this now."
"Get into what?" asked Brenda as she dragged her feet into the room. "David? Why are you yelling?"
"Bren." David turned to her. "I'm sorry; I didn't -"
"Bren." Dylan glared at David. "Silver's had a little too much to drink, haven't you, Silver? He didn't mean to wake you. Isn't that right?"
"Sorry, Brenda," David said again.
"He was yelling," said Brenda. "Why was he yelling?"
"Because your best friend and your baby daddy were entangled." David pointed at both of them.
"For God's sake," said Val. "Bren, we weren't entangled. I tripped. That's all. Dylan turned, I tripped, and I fell. That's it."
Brenda eyed Dylan. "Why were you on the couch?" she asked suspiciously.
"He fell asleep," said Val.
"I asked Dylan," said Brenda.
"I fell asleep," said Dylan.
"You could have fallen asleep in our bed." Brenda crossed her arms. "But why wouldn't you prefer sleeping around the skinny gorgeous woman with legs for days?"
"You are not seriously believing Silver over me." Dylan tried to hold in his anger.
"You hooked up with Val before; why wouldn't you again?" snapped Brenda.
Dylan charged outside, to the backyard.
Brenda followed him.
"I'm not pushing you, Brenda," Dylan began in as calm a tone as he could muster. "You aren't sure about us, and I get it. You can take all the time you need on that. But I need you to make up your mind on this shit."
"What shit?" asked Brenda.
"This shit!" Dylan waved his hand. "You want me to hook up with Val, then you don't. You let me think you wanted me with Kelly, but you get jealous when Val lies to you and tells you Kel tried to kiss me. You still insist that I'm in love with Val, no matter how many times I tell you I'm not, but you get angry when you think we hooked up. Just admit it, Brenda! Admit you don't want me with anyone else. Admit you're feeling something for me, something you don't understand. Something that terrifies you."
He thought he might have hit a nerve when Brenda silently looked at him before announcing she was going back to bed and Dylan was not to follow her.
Dylan awoke early to organize an apology breakfast. Balancing a tray in one hand, he knocked on their door with the other.
He turned the knob and saw Brenda's tidily made bed.
He checked Brandon's room, in the event that Brenda had chosen to sleep in there.
He power walked through the apartment, opening every door to find rooms emptier than the last.
He was almost out the door when it opened to reveal Valerie.
"I got Bren breakfast." She held up a paper bag. "I thought we could talk this out, not that there's anything to talk about."
"I made her breakfast," said Dylan. "But she isn't here. I thought she was with you."
Valerie blanched. "I thought she was with you."
"Fuck!" Dylan swung for his helmet. "This is not happening again."
"Why do you always reach for your helmet when you freak out?" Valerie grabbed at it. "You're practically digging your grave."
"Oh hey, Brandon," Dylan mocked. "Having a good trip? Yeah. Great. Guess what happened while you've been gone? We lost your sister. Again."
"We didn't lose her," said Val, "and she can't be far. Get in the car. I'll drive."
Dylan pressed his nose against the car window, scouring the sidewalks for Brenda.
"Anything?" asked Valerie.
"Nothing," said Dylan. "I'm gonna kill your lover for this."
"He's not my lover," said Val.
"I saw your face when he thought we hooked up, Val. He might not be your lover, but he does mean something to you beyond your ex."
"All you saw on my face was red-hot fury and the strong desire to punch David."
"You're not as good a liar as you think you are."
Dylan wasted no time in answering his ringing phone.
"Bren? Where are you?" he asked.
"Dylan, Bren's in trouble," said Donna.
"In trouble?" Dylan gripped at the lining of the car door. "In trouble how?"
"She called me to take her shopping and we went downtown and then Bren completely froze, but I don't know why -"
"Donna." Had Dylan bought a more fragile mobile, it may have been crushed in his fist. "Donna, this is very important. How close are you to the train station?"
"I think we're a few streets over, why?"
"A few streets over," Dylan repeated. "Okay. Tell me exactly where you are."
Donna told him that Brenda had darted into an open utility closet with a faulty lock. Whilst Donna couldn't understand the shop owner, she could understand that he was threatening to call the police.
"He can't call the cops," said Dylan. "That'll scare Bren more." Dylan turned an anxious look on Val. "Call the bookshop," he commanded her. "It isn't far from the shop. The owner, Reijo, he's well-acquainted with Bren. He can talk down this guy until we get there."
Reijo said he would be there instantly.
"Can't you go any faster?" Dylan asked Val.
"If you want us to be flatter than pancakes," said Val. "And/or arrested."
Dylan sprinted out, dodging passerby and strollers.
"I'm here!" he said, breathing hard as he reiterated his words in a second language.
He hurried over to Donna.
"She's in there," said Donna, who had clearly been crying.
Dylan squatted by the door, listening for any indication of Brenda.
"Brandon." He heard the muffled sob. "I want Brandon."
"Bren, Brandon isn't here," Dylan told her gently. "But I am. The door only unlocks from the inside, so I'm going to need you to unlock it and come out, okay?"
"I can't," Brenda sniffled. "It's stuck."
"Press your hand to the door," he told her. "Is your hand on the door?"
"Yes," she said. "By the doorknob. It's broken."
Dylan pressed his own hand against the door, by the doorknob.
"Can you feel that?" he asked.
"Is your hand on the door?" she asked.
Dylan smiled, knowing Brenda could not possibly physically feel his touch.
"We're gonna work together to get you out, okay?" he said. "I'll pull, you push."
"Dylan, I'm sorr -"
"Not now, Bren. Push and pull. Push and pull."
Brenda stumbled into Dylan's arms as he enveloped her.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"No, I'm sorry," he said.
"The thought of you sleeping with Val; I just, I hated it," she said. "It made my head throb. And here. It really made here throb." She held her chest.
"Then are you ready to accept that I'm not in love with Valerie?" asked Dylan.
"I am," said Brenda. "But I don't want to think of anything else right now. I just want to go home, with you."
Dylan had Donna take Brenda to the car as he gave the owner information on where to send the bill for damages, on the condition that the owner not involve the police.
Dylan thanked Reijo for his help.
"It is my fervent wish that I could do more for her," said Reijo.
"It's a wish we share," said Dylan.
"I do not wish to tell Brenda of the sale on the bookshop," Reijo added.
"You're selling the bookshop?" asked Dylan.
"I must," said Reijo. "My mother, she is old. I have promised to look after her."
"I gotta get Bren home, but don't make a sale until you and I talk," said Dylan, shaking Reijo's hand.
"There are prospective buyers."
"Whatever they're offering you, I'll triple it." Dylan threw on his sunglasses. "And cover anything your mother needs."
He got into the car, clinging to Brenda as Valerie drove.
"I didn't know Bren would do that," said Donna as she turned in her seat.
"I know you didn't," said Dylan. "Bren doesn't mean to do it and you didn't do anything wrong, Donna. When Bren hears the train, she reacts."
"I'm sorry, Val." Brenda eyed the back of Valerie's head.
"It isn't you who needs to apologize to me, Bren," said Val. "Fucking David."
"Did you guys have a fight with David, or something?" asked Donna. "He showed up to the hotel distraught, so Kel took him and Hannah out for the day since Hannah refused to let go of David."
Dylan tuned out Val's discussion with Donna as he focused on Brenda.
"Are you going to tell Brandon I was bad?" she asked.
"No." Dylan nudged Brenda's nose with his. "B doesn't need to know about any of this."
"I didn't sprint," said Brenda. "I walked."
"Just, next time you want to walk downtown, can you at least let Val or I know? Even if you're angry with us?"
"Okay. But I think next time I walk downtown, I'd like you to come along," said Brenda.
"I'd like that," said Dylan. "Did you want to get out because you were angry with me?"
"Actually, I wanted to apologize to you. I picked up breakfast for us, but I think I dropped it when I heard the train."
"It's okay." Dylan smoothed his hand in a circle over Brenda's back. "We've got breakfast waiting for us at home."
"If I was fixed, I wouldn't've gotten stuck in the closet," said Brenda.
"It's the door that needs fixing, Bren. Not you."
"Dylan, I think I want my mother. Can my mother come out, without my father?"
"We'll talk to her," he promised.
"And yours," said Brenda. "I want both her grandmothers to come out."
"I'll make it happen."
"And then I want us to fly to London," said Brenda. "I want to see their graves."
"That might take a little longer, but I swear to you that we will return to London."
"Before we move to Italy."
"Yeah." Dylan melded Brenda to him, as much as he could with her stomach in the way. "Before we move to Italy."
"Where I'm going to marry you," she said. "I think," she added.
"You think?" he asked, his own stomach clenching in anticipation.
"Well, I want you in my bed and I don't want you in anyone else's bed, so maybe we will get married," said Brenda. "Someday."
"Someday," Dylan echoed.
"I forgive you," Brenda threw out as if it were nothing instead of absolutely everything, "and wherever we move cannot be anywhere near a train station," she said.
"One hundred percent in agreement on that," said Dylan.
Brenda looked out the window. Dylan followed suit, but it wasn't the scenery he saw.
It was Brenda in a glittering white gown, strolling towards him underneath a Tuscan sunset.
Dylan wondered if Brenda could truly be content if her father was not there to offer Brenda his arm.
Perhaps Jim Walsh could factor into his daughter's and granddaughters' lives, but not without a few ground rules set first.
Or a couple dozen.
Because Dylan, unlike Jim, would put his daughter before his pride and give Jim a chance to be a grandfather.
Unless Jim continued to insist Brenda required repairing.
Then Dylan would throw Jimbo out on his ass faster than Jim Walsh could say statutory.
-x
Spent a good chunk of the week thinking there wouldn't be an update today, but this chapter came out quite quickly.
Source: Google + the website for Headway.
(Shout-out to KJ to express my continued gratitude and appreciation. I love stories that involve the whole gang. There's no way Dylan would have been the least bit interested in Kelly in the later seasons if he'd known what she'd said about Val [or Bren, for that matter, since he never knew.] Dylan was practically using Kelly as his therapist by that point. If he'd had some real therapy, he could have put DK entirely to rest. Bren's definitely the advice-giver in the group, though she's not great at taking it herself!)
Thanks a million! x