He had met his oldest friend long before their lives had shifted.
They couldn't have been called friends, exactly. They were acquaintances; cordial on the playground, allies at their parents' humdrum benefits.
But Steve Sanders and Dylan McKay were hardly friends.
They shared the same nanny, a learned woman from Serbia who had submitted her resignation to Samantha Sanders upon Rush's rumored advancements. This had led to the subsequent separation of the formerly besotted Sanders spouses, so that Steve understood when Dylan's own parents separated.
But they hadn't been friends.
Steve had, for the entirety of his life, possessed a great deal more energy than Dylan could handle in one sitting. Dylan once thought Steve should have joined the Boy Scouts, which Steve insisted was the haven for what Steve referred to as do-gooder dorks.
Do-gooder dorks like Brandon Walsh, whose presence had bridged a somewhat tarnished pathway between Dylan, the loner, and Steve, his old childhood acquaintance.
But even in their university years, when Steve became close enough for Dylan to sincerely want at his bachelor party, Dylan never thought he and Steve would be able to converse on a deeper level the way Dylan did with his twins.
Until the night Steve had stopped Dylan from riding his motorcycle in the midst of a rage.
Since then, their relationship had developed a more genuine bond of what may have been the start of brotherhood; though, having damaged his fraternal bond with Brandon, Dylan hesitated to call it such.
Still, Dylan didn't think he would find himself working on the design of his daughter's nursery beside the man he had once held little in common with.
Steve.
Dylan had a desperate need to keep himself occupied and out of his thoughts as he waited for Brenda to awaken.
It seemed Steve had the same idea when he showed up uncharacteristically early, at five in the morning.
Dylan had poured a coffee for himself and Steve, prepared a smoothie for Brenda's thermos, and then asked Steve whether Steve would like to help with the painting.
"Might as well keep going 'til it's complete," said Steve.
More Brandon's style than Dylan's, the art of the interrogative dig was normally something Dylan left to Brandon.
"Bren's worried about you," Dylan blurted. "And I don't like when Bren's worried."
"Bren's worried about me?" asked Steve.
"She's under the impression that there's more to this glacier between you and Arnold than you're willing to admit."
"Glacier? What glacier?" Steve swiped the paint roller in rapid motion.
"Easy, Wyeth," said Dylan. "Bren will kill me if you splash paint on the carpet."
"Why will she kill you if I splash the paint?"
Dylan gave Steve a pointed look.
"Because you gave me a paint roller." Steve answered his own question. "Got it."
"I realize this kind of discussion is better when Walsh is around, but you've done a whole lot for Bren and I, and I hope you know that if you are struggling, then," Dylan fought the urge to reveal how uncomfortable he felt, "then I'm here."
"I think Rush fucked me up," said Steve.
"Well, if anyone knows about that, it's me," said Dylan. "Problems with Rush?"
His therapy sessions were currently working through his fury at Jack, both for the way Dylan was raised and for Jack leaving him behind when they were finally getting to a decent place.
His therapist may have coaxed him to that point, but what Dylan needed to tackle the most was K2.
The problem was, he'd rather K2 stay buried far beneath his memories.
Yet, if he didn't tackle K2, the mountain would continue to control him.
Dylan feared he wouldn't be a good husband or father if he let a mountain control him.
He bet Luca König had never let himself be controlled by a mountain.
"The usual childhood problems," said Steve. "My parents' marriage was fucked up and I thought maybe, just maybe, I could be a little less fucked, but I'm never gonna be able to prove how much better I can be, will I?"
"Better than Rush? Sanders, you've proven that a few times now. Doubt Rush would've spent hours searching with us to find Bren, or gone out late to pick up Val."
"I don't mean as a man. I mean as a father. I think I can be better than Rush at this fatherhood thing, but the chicks don't think so."
"Which chicks? Women," Dylan corrected, as the hypothetical scoldings of Brenda and Andrea infiltrated his brain.
"Carly," said Steve. "She took Zach and just vanished."
"So this is about Carly? Not Clare?"
"It's about…Idunno. Can I ask you something?"
"Fire away."
"We've known each other a long time, right?"
"Hell of a long time."
"Not always been close?"
"Could've been closer if you hadn't tried so hard to get in with the jocks."
"Hey, Reina threw some wild parties. But that's not the point," said Steve. "This isn't gonna be an easy question for you," he warned.
"Sanders, spit it out before you have me thinking you're gonna try to date Brenda."
"Is that an option?"
"Steve!"
When Steve spoke, all Dylan heard was garbled mumbling.
"Come again?" asked Dylan.
"I asked how you would've wanted me to react if you'd found out Bren decided to, you know, not keep your kid."
"You mean an abortion," said Dylan.
"Yeah." Steve nodded. "If things were different and Bren had an abortion. How would you want me to react? How would you react?"
Dylan stilled in his painting.
"I actually asked her about that," he said after a moment's consideration. "She didn't know me, barely knew herself, was in enough pain without the additional physical toll this last trimester's had on her. I wouldn't've blamed her one bit for making a decision like that."
"Am I allowed to ask what she said?"
"You're allowed."
Dylan told Steve of Brenda's reasoning behind her choice.
"Do you think Bren instantly loved the kid because the kid's yours?" asked Steve.
"I think Bren instantly loved her because she's Bren's," said Dylan. "We're talking about the same girl who actually enjoyed babysitting her cousins."
"Okay, but say the kid was, Idunno, Stewie's or something," said Steve. "Would Bren have still wanted her?"
"Dammit, Sanders! Why d'ya have to go and bring up Carson, of all fucking people?"
"Because he's the guy Brenda kicked out of her life for good," Steve pointed out. "Maybe the only person she never allowed a second chance."
"I'm not gonna say I'd wish Bren's hypothetical pregnancy with a fuckwad like Carson would've been lost, if that's what you're getting at."
"I'm just wondering if Bren would've aborted her kid if she'd been knocked up by a man she hated, that's all."
"You think women only make a choice like that when they hate the guy?"
"Okay, forget Bren. Imagine Val had been knocked up; by Silver, maybe. Bad breakup, right? Would she have aborted their kid because of anger at Silver, or because she genuinely wouldn't want the kid?"
"Steve," the paint roller flew out of Dylan's grasp, "did Clare have an abortion?"
"We're talking about Val," said Steve, though his tone had charred to a level Dylan had never heard come out of Steve Sanders.
"That's why you won't speak to Arnold." Dylan stood gobsmacked as he realized the reason for Steve's strange behavior around Clare. "She had an abortion and you've convinced yourself she did it because she hates you." It further dawned on Dylan, "because you think she thinks you're no better than your father."
"Valerie Malone," said Steve.
"You rang?" Valerie popped in her head.
"You're up early," said Dylan.
"Up late," corrected Val.
"Still haven't slept?" he asked.
"You try sleeping when the guy you've known your whole life who used to be like a father figure to you is hell-bent on wrecking his family because of some old grudge."
"Jim," said Dylan.
"You told Bren you couldn't get the hearing pushed back," said Val. "Something tells me there was a lot more to that conversation."
There had, in fact, been more to the conversation.
Before their respective legal teams had intervened, Dylan had tried to reach out to Jim as a father to another father.
He had long since given up on the notion of Jim accepting him as a second son. For Brenda's sake and the sake of their daughter, Dylan thought he could at least attempt a truce with the ornery Minnesotan.
Successfully forging a truce with Jim would prevent Brenda from appearing before a court, which Dylan wished to avoid by any means necessary.
"Dylan, did Brenda ever tell you about the opportunity she gave up when you decided to move to London?" Jim had asked. A slight crunch on the other end had indicated to Dylan that he had caught Jim in the midst of a meal.
Unable to properly process language, Dylan had simply answered in a croaky negative.
"She had been offered a semester in Adelaide," said Jim. "Had you not arrived, she would've gone."
"I didn't ask to stay with her," said Dylan. "I thought I would only crash until her Scotland tour had ended."
"Instead, Brenda decided to remain in London to care for you, you and my daughter once more began dating, and you again cast her aside for your own selfish reasons," said Jim.
"You don't have a clue why Bren and I split the last time." Dylan resisted the urge to dive into vulgarity.
"What I know is that my daughter was once more willing to give up an incredible opportunity in Australia to try to mend her relationship with the man who took no qualms with manipulating her as soon as Brenda was in a vulnerable state."
"If she'd left when she wanted to instead of listened to whatever the fuck you told her, she wouldn't've been on the train," Dylan spat.
"And if you'd been on it with her, my daughter could've avoided her mind turning to mush," Jim snapped.
"Her mind isn't mush," said Dylan. "Just because it isn't how you want it to be doesn't mean Bren's mind is useless. I know you're still mad about your visit, but Bren really is gaining her strength back by the day. Can't we put aside our differences and focus on helping her? She's twenty-nine weeks, Jim. Twenty-nine. It'll be thirty-two by the hearing. You aren't flying Brenda and my daughter over to Hong Kong when she's thirty-two damn weeks."
"If my daughter is improving as much as you say she is, there isn't any reason why she shouldn't be able to fly in a few weeks' time."
"You'd take her away from everything she knows, and you think that wouldn't impact her?"
"If Brenda's doctors determine it is unsafe for Brenda and my granddaughter to make the trip to Hong Kong, then we will wait until they approve the flight. In the meantime, Brenda will at least be free from your clutch."
"My clutch? What about your clutch? Bren doesn't want to do this. Don't make her. Don't take my daughter from me, Jim. Unless you want a nasty battle on your hands."
"The way you took mine, then proceeded to turn my little girl against me?"
"I didn't turn Brenda against you."
"You have done nothing but. First Brenda, then Valerie, and now Brandon. Anytime my children have become close to you, they withdraw from me."
"I'm not some evil genius with a remote control hooked up to their brains. They're all grown-ass adults who can make their own decisions."
"And when you destroy Brenda, as you have continuously done, she comes right back to me," Jim had barreled on. "We both know if it weren't for my grandchild, you wouldn't be half as invested in Brenda's recovery. In fact, you'd be out at some bar in LA, inking your number on the skin of every remotely appealing woman who came along."
"Nasty battle it is," said Dylan.
"See you in court," said Jim.
"Is your hatred for me so strong that you would risk losing your family because of it?"
"Goodbye, Dylan."
"If you do this, Jim, then congratulations; you've become the man you hated. Jack would be proud." Dylan had paused. "Actually, no; you know what? Not even Jack would try to take a child from her father, and last I checked, my father never manipulated a teenager with the words statutory rape."
Dylan may have tossed a barb at Jim, but he doubted it would affect Jim half as much as Jim's comments had affected Dylan.
He combed through every conversation they had ever partaken in to gain a smidgen of understanding of how he and Jim had arrived in the place they stood.
Dylan hadn't been able to stop ruminating over how different Brenda's life would have turned out had she not stayed in London.
She had never told him about the offer.
He wondered if he would have followed Brenda to Australia. If he would have heard from afar that she had fallen for some Aussie.
If Dylan remaining in London had ultimately resulted in Brenda's crash.
The last time he wondered that, he had grabbed the paint roller and picked up where Steve had left off.
The previous night, after Brenda had fallen asleep following her allegedly wonderful date with Luca.
She hadn't said it had been wonderful, but she also hadn't said it had been awful.
Not that Dylan had hoped it would be awful.
Maybe just mediocre, enough for Brenda to be disinterested in a second date with Luca König.
"McKay. Yo, McKay!"
Dylan stumbled back to the present. "Yeah?" he asked.
"I said, do you want me to wake Bren?" Valerie repeated.
Checking the clock, Dylan told Valerie to give it five more minutes.
Then he went in himself.
"Bren?" he asked, teetering into panic mode from her disorderly bed.
In his experience, a disorderly bed in the room of Brenda Walsh was never a good sign.
"One sec!" shouted Brenda.
His now reflexive anxiety allayed, Dylan followed Brenda's voice to the open bathroom door.
"I can do that," he said, watching as she rubbed suntan lotion into her skin.
"You won't tell me where exactly we're going," said Brenda, "and part of me taking care of myself is taking care of my skin."
"Can't a guy surprise his girl?" asked Dylan.
"You should at least hint about wardrobe," she said. "If we're going somewhere freezing, your daughter could get a cold because you were too mulish to tell her mother what to wear."
"If you needed a coat, I'd make sure you had one."
"I'm bringing a coat."
"Whatever you think's best."
"If we're going somewhere warm, your daughter could get a heat rash because -"
"Mulish," said Dylan. Deciding to wait it out until Brenda was willing to accept his help, Dylan loosely crossed his arms and leant against the doorway.
As he had expected, Brenda repeatedly tried to reach for her right leg.
It was when Brenda closed her eyes and partially opened her lips that Dylan stepped forward, held out his hand for the bottle, and smoothed sunscreen over Brenda's legs.
"How are you so good at that?" asked Brenda.
"Good at what?" asked Dylan, occupied in his task.
"You always seem to know when my leg starts to cramp. You knew before I winced, didn't you?"
Dylan confirmed he had.
"How?" Brenda repeated.
"Dunno," said Dylan. "Suppose we're just in tune."
"Because of her, right?" asked Brenda.
"Maybe," he said. "But we were also in tune before her. And your facial cues help."
"You know my facial cues?"
"I know all your cues."
Dylan called Valerie in to help Brenda choose a suitable ensemble without revealing his plans.
He flattened his hand against the wall, shaking his head in disbelief.
He wondered what it would take for Brenda to realize that what lay between them expanded beyond their daughter.
"You know, I was told once that if you repeatedly shake your head, your ears are gonna fall off."
Dylan turned to see Brandon eating a bowl of cereal with one hand as he furiously clacked away at his keyboard with the other.
"Working this early, Walsh?" asked Dylan.
"Journalism doesn't sleep, McKay," said Brandon.
"You keep typing like that, your hand's gonna fall off."
"I gotta get this done before they put the paper to bed."
"A rare moment of procrastination?"
"More like a last-minute assignment."
"Last-minute, as in?"
"As in I've been up since one working on it."
"So you heard the screams?"
Brandon ceased his typing.
Not one scream out of either Brenda or Dylan, said Brandon.
"Valerie, on the other hand…" said Brandon.
"Val's still screaming, huh?"
Dylan had heard it, once, when he had lain awake waiting to hear Brenda's.
He wondered if Brenda's screams had been silenced solely because of him.
Whilst he had to admit that thought did give him a great deal of pride, he more so hoped the screams had silenced because of Brenda's continued improvement.
And because they had found a home that could block out the sounds of the train.
"Think she knows she screams?" asked Brandon.
"Probably does know," said Dylan. "Is this a new thing for Val? The screaming?"
"I think it's sprang back up," said Brandon. "I used to hear it, on occasion, back in LA."
"Wonder if Val's keeping something from us."
"What would she be keeping from us?"
"Loads of things, especially if she thinks that whatever she's not telling us would worry Bren if she did. Like this Steve thing."
"What Steve thing?" Brandon returned to his work.
"Just Bren being worried over Steve being upset over Clare having an abortion, that's all," Dylan casually dropped.
"He told you?" asked Brandon. "I can't believe he told you after he swore me to secrecy."
"Aha!" said Dylan. "Clare did have an abortion, and Sanders is upset about it."
"Fuck," said Brandon upon the realization that he had been tricked, "I'm dead. I'm a dead man. Steve is gonna slaughter me for letting this slip."
"At least now I can tell Bren why Steve's been so down."
"Oh no," said Brandon. "You aren't telling Bren."
"And why not?" asked Dylan.
"First off, you aren't supposed to know. Second off, you really think Bren won't be upset with herself for walking around Steve with that belly of hers?" Brandon met Dylan's gaze. "Steve's convinced Clare hates him. Would you have thought the same if Bren hadn't kept the baby?"
"I'm more surprised she did," said Dylan. "Was there a moment, even the tiniest moment, when she thought about it?"
"If there was, she never told me," said Brandon. "Knowing about the baby helped Brenda press on. Made her determined to get better. I don't think she considered abortion at all. And I have no idea what she thought about it before the crash, or if she knew."
"She knew," said Dylan. Brandon gave him a curious glance. "Kind of knew," he added. "That voicemail she left me? Mina and her had planned to pick up a test as soon as they got into the next stop. Bren said if it was positive, she was keeping the kid. There was no hesitation in her voice, only determination. Bren was ready to be a mom. Thank God she had the foresight to not leave us wondering."
"That's what you and Bren meant about Mina protecting her because of the baby," said Brandon.
"I love your sister," said Dylan. "Have since we were sixteen. Despite all the shit we've been through, all the shit I've caused, I've kept on loving her. If she'd decided to have an abortion when she very much knew who I was, sure, I would've been hurt. If she'd never told me? Damn right, I would've been hurt. But it wouldn't've made me stop loving her. Nothing ever can. If she'd had one when she didn't know who I was? Didn't know the father? I'd only wonder if she at least had someone with her; you, Val. Wouldn't want Brenda to have to face something like that alone."
"Think Clare had someone with her?" asked Brandon.
"When'd she meet Kai?" asked Dylan.
"Dunno."
Dylan asked if he and Brenda should sever contact with Clare.
Brandon rejected the idea. Severing contact would sever whatever research Clare's team had worked on for Brenda, said Brandon.
He added that Steve would have to speak to Clare some time.
As if he had overheard, Steve entered the kitchen and stalked over to the fridge.
"Almost forgot which place I was in," he said, withdrawing sans the liquor he had been searching for. "How many months is it now, McKay?"
"Three," said Dylan proudly.
"Has the craving gotten easier?" asked Brandon.
"Every time I've imagined cracking open a beer, all I've had to do is remember how sloshed I probably was when Brenda needed me most. So yeah, craving's gotten easier."
Steve looked at Brandon.
"We could tell Bren exactly how much she used to love you," suggested Steve. "If you want."
"I'm still hoping she can realize it on her own," said Dylan. "The videos and her diaries ought to help with that, especially if she happens to have Mrs. Dylan McKay written all over the one from junior year. That should be enough to erase any ideas she's getting about being Fräulein Luca König." He glanced at the microwave. "Speaking of Brenda, what's taking her so long?"
"Great question." Brenda sashayed over to grab her thermos. "If you want me to be faster next time, just tell me the weather instead of ask Val to go through my closet."
"I asked her to help you with an outfit, not curl your hair," said Dylan.
He was glad Brenda's hair grew quickly and that it had grown to a length that Valerie could tease out its natural curl.
Every time he thought Brenda couldn't possibly appear more enticing, she found a way.
"How are you today, Steve?" she asked, placing her hand on Steve's back.
"Morning, Bren," he said. "Don't think I'm exaggerating when I say you're the hottest baby mama around."
"Are you flirting with my child's mother?" asked Dylan.
"I flirt with everyone," said Steve. "I'm gonna go find Val. Bet she'd be up for some flirting."
"Thought you were gonna keep painting."
"Flirt break first, then painting."
"When you get a moment?" Dylan asked Brandon as he pulled out leftovers for Brenda's breakfast.
"Help Steve with the painting," said Brandon. "Yep, will do."
"I could paint," Brenda said through a mouthful of steak and cheese omelette that Dylan had lovingly crafted for her with the help of his extensive cooking classes. "Steve's too slow."
"Find me an expert that says paint fumes are okay for my heavily pregnant girl and maybe I'll consider it," said Dylan.
"I'll work on that," said Brenda. "Fuck," she traced her tongue over her lips, "this is good. You did well, babes."
Dylan recalled every time Brenda's tongue had explored his lips. He wondered what Brenda would have thought if she knew he had a mental running total of how long it had been since he had indulged in her delectable taste.
He was mildly contented that Brenda couldn't reject his kiss for Luca's if Dylan didn't try, which was the only reason why he didn't move to take her then and there.
"Thanks," said Dylan. "Your brother helped a bit."
"A bit?" asked Brandon. "I bought the ingredients!"
"Only because you wouldn't take my money."
"I do make my own money, you know."
"If you boys are gonna keep arguing, I'll just go to Helsinki myself," said Brenda.
"We're done," said Dylan. "Ready?"
"Ready," said Brenda.
Brenda waved to Brandon as she allowed Dylan to lead her. Dylan shouted a see ya to Valerie that had her responding with a shout of her own.
He would have preferred that the drive to Helsinki had been by bike. Brenda would have loved the way the spring air kissed her skin, much like Dylan's lips would have done had her hands been wrapped around his.
It wasn't a particularly warm day, but compared to how it had felt as of late, it might as well have been.
The bike wasn't an option. Open car windows would have to do.
"God, it's gorgeous." Brenda sighed in contentment.
"It is," Dylan agreed.
"I meant the weather," she said.
"So did I."
The city appeared particularly busy that day, stirring in Dylan a mild curiosity but not enough to query to passersby.
Brenda, he thought, looked right at home in a city.
"Florence."
"Sorry?"
"Florence," he repeated. "Firenze. Or maybe Siena."
"You want us to name her Florence?"
"When we move to Italy," he clarified. "Either Florence or Siena. You belong in a city, a city close enough to the countryside to escape whenever we feel like it."
"Did you know there's a town in Tuscany named Lucca?"
"Is there?" Dylan faked an interest.
"Yes, Luca's parents used to tell him about it," said Brenda. "They're German, you know."
"I've heard."
"Have you been to Germany?"
"I haven't." Dylan pushed open the door for Brenda. "Is it somewhere you want to go?"
"Luca said I could meet his dog."
"There's a dog." Dylan pointed his thumb behind him.
"Do you like dogs?" asked Brenda.
"Is that your way of saying you want a dog?" asked Dylan.
"Just wondering if you like them."
He'd had a dog once, Dylan told her. Jack had bought it after Iris had left, thinking it would prevent Dylan from disturbing him.
"How old were you when your mom left?" Brenda made to take Dylan's hand, just as he took hers.
"I was six," said Dylan. "Jack made it seem like she'd left because she couldn't handle being my mother, like I was a kid so troublesome that my own mom didn't want to be around me."
"That's awful," said Brenda. "I'm sure that isn't true."
"You're right. It isn't. Jack paid her off. Iris regrets it now, but that doesn't change all the years she was away."
"Are you scared our daughter will think you couldn't handle being her dad and abandoned her?"
"What?" Dylan quickly pressed the button for the elevator.
"If Jim succeeds."
Dylan prepared to once more assure Brenda that Jim would not.
His words were drowned out by the clatter of people getting off the elevator.
It was a cozy office, much cozier than Dylan had anticipated a pop-up office to be. The director and casting agent discussed the film, their vision for the film, and the schedule Brenda would be provided for her voiceover work.
"I got the part?" asked Brenda.
"Congratulations, Princess Fiona," she was told. "You got the part."
"Dylan!" Brenda squeezed his hand. Joy dominated her features. "I got the part!"
"Told you you would," said Dylan, sure that his own joy matched Brenda's. "We were assured she could do the voiceover work here?" he asked. "As you can see, Bren's not exactly in the position to be flying back and forth to Hollywood right now, and it isn't the best time for us to make a big move out there."
Or ever, thought Dylan.
"As long as Miss Walsh keeps an eye on her emails for any updates or critique, we don't see a problem with that. There were plenty of actresses vying for this part, all of whom could have easily made it into the studio; Cameron Diaz amongst them. We chose Miss Walsh because she was the actress best suited for the role."
"Who's Cameron Diaz?" whispered Brenda as they waited for her contract.
"She's been in a bunch of movies," said Dylan. "One with Julia Roberts, I think."
"Is Julia Roberts the actress in the movie Luca and I saw?"
"Think Val said that was Julia Stiles."
"Then who's Julia Roberts?"
"A famous actress you met once."
"I met her?"
"Yes, you met her. At a RADA event."
"Was she nice?"
"You couldn't stop raving about her for weeks."
"Then I'll assume she's nice."
To ensure Brenda wouldn't be taken for a sucker or forced to fly to LA despite the assurances, Dylan read over the entirety of the contract. It was then faxed to his lawyers and only returned to Brenda when Dylan received the call that everything was in good form.
With the contract signed, they were taken to the studio to see where Brenda would be acting out her lines into a condenser microphone. She met the individuals who would be working closely with her, and then was handed a script before being asked to record a few lines.
"So Brenda Walsh is a princess," Dylan teased as they left the studio. "Mind if I call you Princess, princess?"
"My character is a princess," Brenda corrected. "And queen one day, I bet. But unless you're the ogre who has her heart, then nope, you don't get to call me a princess."
"Some people would say I'm an ogre."
"Well, they'd be wrong."
They spotted a bus, headed in the direction of their home.
Brenda became excited that she could commute by bus for her work. Dylan told her he had no problem with taking her. Brenda told him she couldn't continue relying on him for lifts. Dylan asked why not?
"It's all part of learning to rely on myself," said Brenda. "Maybe it isn't the best idea for me to drive yet, but I'm sure I can take the bus just fine."
Dylan lay their conversation to rest.
He drove them out amongst nature, where nothing could be heard but the rustle of towering trees in the wind clinging to the leaves that had just barely begun to grow back. Though the air lacked a crisp quality, snow remained from a recent snowfall.
"Where are we?" asked Brenda in awe.
"Thought we could check out one of the national parks," said Dylan. "Kai claims you can't hear the train for miles out here. You up for it?"
"Absolutely," said Brenda. "If my legs fail me during the walk, will you carry me?"
"Carry you, or let you fall to the ground? Hm, let me think about that."
Dylan didn't wait for Brenda's legs to protest before bending to the point that she could climb his back.
He thought her surprisingly lightweight for one so late into her pregnancy.
"It's up to you, Bren," he told her as he set out their picnic lunch. "We could rent that cabin over there and stay here for the night," he nodded over to it, "or we could go back home."
"What do you think?" asked Brenda, chewing thoughtfully on a slice of ripened pear.
She even made fruit enticing.
"I think a bit of celebration is in order." Dylan wiped at the corner of her lips with his thumb. "But I'm not making the decision."
A bespeckled Eagle Owl gripping a high branch with its talons screeched, as if their mere presence had disturbed the owl's otherwise peaceful day.
Brenda sat captivated.
"I think we should name her something to do with the sea," said Brenda. "Or the sky."
"How about Kailani?" asked Dylan. He spread out on the blanket, settling his head against Brenda's stomach. "It's Hawaiian for sea and sky. And her grandma does live in Hawaii."
"Kailani? You don't think that's too close to Kai?"
"He wouldn't mind."
"Kailani McKay-Walsh," Brenda tried. "It's like a tongue twister. Kailani McKay-Walsh. Kailani McKay-Walsh."
"If we're gonna hyphenate, Walsh-McKay sounds better."
"Kailani Walsh-McKay."
"Kailani McKay?" Dylan chanced.
Brenda turned that into a tongue twister, as well.
"Okay, forget Kailani," said Dylan.
"It was a nice thought, though." Brenda rapidly rubbed Dylan's shoulder and then refocused on the owl. "What are the skies like here at night?" she asked.
"I hear they're pretty incredible," he said. "Inundated with stars. Who knows? If we focus hard enough, we might even see a shooting star and we can make a wish on it, for her."
"Then we're staying." Brenda propped herself up on her hands in the telltale sign that she was about to heave herself upward. "Give me your money and I'll rent us the cabin."
"My money?" Dylan lifted his head. "Don't you have your own money now, Princess? Thought you didn't want mine."
"I'll pay you back when I get my first big check."
"You aren't paying me anything." Dylan packed away the food and stood. "C'mon. I'll drive us over so we can rent the cabin, together."
"I don't think an ogre would do that," said Brenda.
"Well, maybe an ogre who fell in love with a princess," said Dylan.
It was only when he stood waiting with Brenda for the keys to the cabin that Dylan realized he had neglected to ask what story Brandon had been working on.
Whatever it was certainly had Brandon appearing tenser than usual.
xx
He had become the king of multitasking.
He had only just submitted his completed article when he received his assignment for the next one.
With even less time allotted for the second, Brandon promptly began making his phone calls and securing his sources.
He whipped out the second article, and then was informed about a third.
This one, at least, wouldn't be due until the following week.
Taking the opportunity for a screen break, Brandon headed to the nursery.
Sure enough, Steve stood there, deep in concentration on his own work.
"Are you becoming an artist on me, Stevie?" asked Brandon.
"You know how therapeutic this painting thing is?" said Steve. "Give it a try, Brando. You'll see what I mean."
Brandon dipped a second roller in a can of paint.
"I like the aqua," he said.
"Bren wanted it to seem like an ocean," said Steve.
"Nice to know some things about my sister haven't changed." Brandon looked to the stuffed seahorse that sat beside a stuffed dolphin near the closet where Cindy had hung her onesie finds.
"Think the McKays are going to be out for a while," said Steve. "Wanna hang with me and Silver later? The boy desperately needs some cheering up."
"The McKays?" asked Brandon. "Is that what we're calling them now?"
"They share a house, they share a bed, they share a kid. Yeah. That's what I'm calling them now. Luca has a better shot with Val than he does with Bren."
"Don't let Silver hear you say that."
"You and Dylan looked pretty chummy out there for a guy you aren't sure you've forgiven."
"We were talking about Bren."
"A convenient excuse."
"Don't get your hopes up. The only reason Dylan and I still interact is because of my twin. You know, it is possible that they won't get back together. Maybe it's a bit too early to start lumping them together."
"They're Dylan and Brenda," said Steve. "They'll work it out. If you haven't noticed, Bren's falling for him, hard. Luca might be a fun time for her, something light and breezy, but she's drawn to our brother. Always has been. And I think you're closer to forgiving him than you realize." Steve recoated his roller. "So, about that beer?"
"We're going for beer?"
"Your best friends have woman troubles," Steve emphasized. "Fuck yeah, we're going for beer."
"Davey's regularly attending NA meetings," said Brandon. "Should he be drinking?"
"Don't be such a Boy Scout."
"That reminds me. You didn't by chance mention to Dylan what you told me about Clare, did you?"
"No. Why?"
"Oh, because he knows." Brandon's paint roller tumbled to the tarp as he ducked out of the room.
"He knows?" Steve yelled behind him. "Brando! You swore!"
"I told him to not tell Bren, if it's any consolation."
"Oh yeah, because Dylan will totally not tell Bren something like that when he literally stood there as she asked how I was doing."
"Maybe it doesn't hurt for Bren to know. Or for Val to know."
"I think Val already knows," said Steve. "But I don't know if she's aware that she does."
Between the tension that consumed his family, helping in the fight against his father, caring for Brenda, waiting it out until Valerie decided to speak about whatever caused her to scream, trying to figure out how to help Steve, and his workload, Brandon began to feel stretched a little too thin.
Perhaps a beer with his mates would be a good idea.
Mates. Fuck. He'd been hanging around Brenda too often.
He spent the rest of the afternoon alternating between working on his next article, continuing his secret research on the dealings of Immo Rawlins with FreightCorp, and painting with Steve.
Steve departed to pick up David from the shop, telling Brandon they would meet up with him for a late lunch and a beer.
Arriving at the exact tick of the clock hand he had been told, Brandon entered into the building that Steve said contained a new club.
It didn't.
But it did contain a blonde.
"David asked me to meet him here," she said, lacing her fingers against her waist. "I didn't know you were coming."
"Steve told me to meet both of them here," said Brandon.
"We've been set up," laughed Kelly. "What did Steve tell you?"
"That he needed us to go out for a beer. What'd David tell you?"
"That he'd introduce me to George Michael." Kelly tucked her hair around her ear. "Embarrassing, I know. But David has met The Cranberries now, so it isn't entirely out of the realm of possibility."
"They couldn't've set this up alone." Brandon pointed at the table. "Think Donna's the mastermind?"
"It's too organized," said Kelly. "That isn't really Don's style."
"Organized," said Brandon.
At once, they said, "Brenda."
"Is it possible?" asked Kelly. "Did Bren really set this up?"
"Don't know how she would've done so without me knowing about it, but I guess it's possible. Especially if she thought you and I needed to talk."
"Do we need to talk?"
"I didn't think we did."
"Would you prefer it if I left?"
"And wasted what I assume is great food? No need. Can't eat this all myself."
Kelly slammed her hands down on the table and bowed her head.
"I'm stuffed," she said. "Can't eat another bite."
That was, until a chef came out to inform them of the dessert course.
Chef Steve, dressed in a white apron and tall white hat.
"Did Bren put you up to this?" asked Brandon.
"Unlike some people, I don't divulge secrets," said Steve. He opened the CD drive of a nearby stereo. "Someone thought you would like this," he said.
"Brandon," Kelly exclaimed, "oh, Brandon, let's dance!"
"You know I don't -"
"You have to dance to this song. It's the rules."
"I don't think we can dance to this song, Kel. It's not platonic enough."
They had last danced to it at the reception of their failed wedding. Brandon wasn't ready for dormant feelings to stir.
"Fine," said Kelly, "then I'll just ask one of Kai's friends to dance with me to it. I bet he knows more beautiful people like Luca."
"You think Luca's beautiful?"
"He's not bad-looking," said Kelly.
Brandon abruptly stood and pulled out Kelly's chair.
"I see you've changed your mind about a dance," said Kelly.
"For old times' sake," said Brandon.
He didn't draw Kelly as close as he normally would have, though they weren't distant, either.
"What happened to us, Brandon?" asked Kelly. "Was it the shooting? Ever since I was shot, it seems like we keep making one bad decision after another."
"Maybe it wasn't a bad decision," said Brandon. "Think about it. If I'd married you, it would've been a lot harder for me to take care of Brenda after her crash."
"I would've helped you," said Kelly.
"Would you have?" Brandon peered at her.
"Yes," she said.
"You would've allowed Brenda, pregnant with your ex's child, to live in our home?"
"She's your sister, Brandon."
"You didn't seem to think of that when you were saying all those things about her."
"I know." Remorse shown in Kelly's eyes. "I was awful. Being here, seeing how strong Bren is despite everything; I've gained a new appreciation for her. Maybe not as a sister, maybe not as a friend, but certainly as a fellow woman in a society determined to tear women down by getting them to play along and rip each other to shreds."
"You've been talking to Andrea, I see."
"Bren, actually."
"It isn't just Bren, Kel. Val's also part of my life. A huge part of my life. As long as she's here and Bren's here, I'll be here. You'll be back in LA and I'll be here."
"Then is this goodbye?" The crackle in Kelly's voice fisted around Brandon's chest. "I don't want to say goodbye to you, Brandon."
"Doesn't have to be goodbye," said Brandon. "Maybe just a we'll see what happens."
"See what happens with Alina?" asked Kelly. Her voice was without malice, containing simply defeat.
"With life," said Brandon. "My priority right now has to be my sister, closely followed by my job. I don't know where my job will take me, Kel, and it isn't fair for you to wait around until I make it back west. If I make it back west. I won't lie to you. I do like Alina, but I don't see us being a long-term thing. Honestly? I had a long-term thing right in my grasp and I let it slip away. Everyone thinks I'm a white picket fence kind of guy. But what if I'm not?"
"I don't need a white picket fence, Brandon. I'd follow you to wherever your job took you. I would've done that before, if you had asked."
That was exactly why he hadn't, said Brandon. He didn't want Kelly to ditch her dreams for him.
"Well, I don't want you to ditch your dreams for me," Kelly said right back.
"Looks like we're at an impasse," said Brandon.
"We could say if we're not married by the time we're thirty, we'll marry each other," said Kelly.
"You're Kelly Taylor," said Brandon. "You know as well as I do that someone will have gotten their ring on your finger by then."
"No one who swings the chandeliers quite like you," said Kelly.
"Can we never bring up those fucking chandeliers again?"
"Deal." Her giggle reminded Brandon of the movies he had secretly enjoyed watching in his childhood as he had whined to Brenda and Valerie about how much he didn't enjoy them. "We'll never really be platonic," said Kelly, "but can you honestly tell me you liked when we went months without talking to each other?"
He hadn't liked it; not one bit.
"We could correspond," said Brandon. "If you wanted."
"Like, write letters?" asked Kelly.
"Letters are more Bren's thing. I was thinking emails. If I end up in areas with shoddy dial-up, or no connection at all, then maybe letters."
Kelly lay a drawn-out kiss on Brandon's cheek.
Brandon battled every urge that screamed at him to line his lips up with hers.
"We weren't ready for marriage," said Kelly as she withdrew. "We were too young, too confused. It was way too soon after we got back together. We could've waited longer."
"We were the same age as my parents."
"They aren't actually getting divorced, are they?" she asked. "For some reason, Donna thinks they are."
"Mom's furious with Dad right now," said Brandon. "We all are. But will they divorce? I don't know. Dad kept something from Mom for a long time, something he lied to her about, and she feels tricked. Manipulated. She's angry with him for the lawsuit, too; how he's handling everything with Bren. Still, they're Jim and Cindy. They've been married for umpteen years. I'm not even sure they know how to be without each other."
"So it's a wait and see with them, too," said Kelly.
Wait and see, confirmed Brandon.
Kelly told him that she had discussed it with Donna and, if Brandon thought it acceptable, they would both be returning for the hearing.
"We want to be here to support Bren," said Kelly. "And you."
"And Dylan?" asked Brandon. "He's the one being sued."
"And Dylan," said Kelly. "But not the way you're thinking. Dylan and I; well, there is no Dylan and I and there hasn't been for a very long time."
"You slept together," said Brandon.
"Imagine if Susan had come back into your life after you and I broke up," said Kelly. "Would you have slept with her?"
"I'm not sure how to answer that."
"Would your feelings for her have surpassed the love you had for me?"
"No, but I also never stood in front of you and Susan and chose myself," said Brandon.
"Okay, so it isn't exactly the same thing. The point is, sleeping with Dylan was stupid, on both of our ends. And when it comes to how I've felt about him, it has never once surpassed how I've felt about you. If I'm supporting Dylan, it's only because of how long we've known each other. Because he and Bren need all the support they can get. That's it. There's nothing more to it."
Brandon couldn't muster up the confidence to believe her.
"Would it help if I swore on our child's life?" asked Kelly.
"No." Brandon let out a long sigh. "That's unnecessary." He hadn't realized that he had woven their hands together; subconsciously, almost as if his hand felt peculiar being separate from hers. Looking down, he slowly removed his hand regardless. "So Dylan's out of the picture; Matt is, too. What's the plan?"
"The plan is to correspond with you, focus on myself, and go back to school," Kelly softly smiled. "Help Donna tie up loose ends and hire someone to take my spot. And your plan is hitting up warzones for a story?"
"Going wherever I'm needed, once Bren's able to be without me. Hopefully not until after my niece is born, 'cause I doubt Brenda would forgive me if I wasn't around for that."
"Then see what happens from there."
See what happens from there, agreed Brandon.
In the meantime, he told Kelly, she and Donna were welcome to return for the hearing.
Provided they confirmed it was acceptable to Brenda, as he wouldn't speak for his sister.
Despite her coercing their friend to trick Brandon into a date with the woman he doubted he would ever truly be completely over.
-x
Score! Another fic hits the twenties.
Sources: Google, the website for LuontoPortii.
(Shout-out to KJ to express my continued gratitude and appreciation.)
Thanks a million! x