He had never been particularly adept at withholding his affection from Brenda Walsh.
Never had that been truer than after Brenda's guard had gone all the way back up.
Or, nearly all the way back up.
He found himself almost looking forward to the nights, when Brenda's fatigue would kick in whilst he read to her and she would drift off in his arms before permitting him to carry her to their room.
On most nights, as Paganini began to play, Brenda would gesture for his hand.
But Dylan had a craving for Brenda's touch that far exceeded any of his addictions, a craving now rarely satisfied.
A craving that intensified with each new curve of Brenda's.
It wasn't that pregnancy turned him on in general. Unlike Steve, he wasn't likely to drool over some expectant stranger in the park.
Brenda turned him on. A pregnant Brenda carrying his child beneath her ever-expanding chest skyrocketed his lust.
That led to lengthy warm showers, and that led to questions Dylan didn't answer that inquired what had taken him so long in the shower.
Mostly initiated by Valerie, who he knew already knew exactly what had taken him so long in the shower.
Because Val took plenty of suspiciously long showers herself.
Mornings, more difficult, tended to vary. Sometimes, Dylan could get in a swift caress before Brenda became alert enough to withdraw. Other times, his affection was expressly denied.
The one place it was never denied was Brenda's continuously growing belly and so, Dylan unabashedly took blatant advantage of that permission when his hand immediately found their child every time Brenda came into the room.
His lips, too; on the only place he could kiss Brenda.
Being apart from his girl for the majority of the day certainly didn't help.
Dylan resolved that in order to regain Brenda's faith, he would need to show Brenda why she had fallen in love with him.
The issue was, for all his projected confidence and at times air of superiority, Dylan was a deeply insecure man. He had never understood, and to this day didn't understand, why Brenda had fallen in love with him.
Therefore, he relied heavily on their mutual passion for the arts.
He purchased a subscription service to local and international cable that ensured he could have a different art medium playing every time Brenda stepped through the door.
That, at least, caused a rapturous Brenda to join him on the sofa, even if she did do so with no less than three inches of space between them.
Dylan knew without a shred of doubt that had it not been for the tiniest member of their shared family, both of his twins would have permanently expunged him from their lives.
If the conversation didn't focus on Brenda, or on the pregnancy, Brandon didn't converse. They did spend time together one-on-one in the cooking classes, but Brandon had largely shut Dylan out.
He couldn't blame Brandon.
Brenda, as promised, did not freeze Dylan out. He was fairly convinced Brenda only spoke to him because of Dylan's ability to help fill in her gaps.
That was especially true when Brenda asked about London, as Dylan was the only one who knew the specifics of her life there.
She had begun asking about London when Brandon had inquired of Brenda whether she would be interested in a visit from the remaining members of her London crew.
They had patiently stayed away at Brandon's advice, but as the months dragged on, their patience had begun to thin.
So, too, had Donna's.
Dylan had eventually turned to Donna when his one chance at buying Brenda's spring dance dress had fallen by the wayside.
David had helped Dylan to set up an eBay account, which Dylan found no real use for aside from finding every possible way to search for fucking panda dress that looked best when I ripped it off my girlfriend.
He'd almost had it. Five hundred dollars; a ridiculous, exorbitant price that had been topped by seven hundred from someone in Taiwan.
The individual had not been willing to haggle. Nor did they care one bit about Dylan's sob story, however true it was.
Dylan had caved and asked Donna if Kelly still had her own dress from the spring dance.
Of course, it couldn't be that simple.
"Kel had it up until she and Brandon broke up the last time," said Donna over the phone.
The school of Kelly's sister had held a clothing drive, which Donna and Kelly had contributed a plethora of clothing to.
"That was one of them," said Donna.
Dylan asked why Kelly had discarded the dress. He received a similar answer to the one Cindy had offered when telling Dylan that Brenda had discarded hers.
"Duh," said Donna. "Because it's too painful for her to keep. You know Kel went with Brandon to the dance in that dress."
"I didn't think of that."
"You don't think about much, do you?" asked Donna. "When it comes to women's feelings. You hurt Bren. You hurt Kel. Gina and I might not be on the best of terms, but she is my cousin and dammit, Dylan; you hurt her, too."
Sweet-natured Donna exploding on Dylan hadn't been something he'd anticipated.
"I'm working on being better, Don," he said. "I don't want to hurt any of them."
"If you want my help, Dylan, I need you to promise this is the very last time you waffle between Brenda and Kelly. If you're choosing Bren, then you need to stick to that."
"I swear, Donna. Kel can be with whomever she wants, even if it's Lawyer Boy. I've made my decision and if Bren will eventually have me again, then I'm hers. For life."
"And if Bren chooses to not be with you?"
Not an option.
"Then a lifelong bachelor I shall be."
"Okay," said Donna, her approval emanating through the airwaves. "Then I can ask the school if they know who got it. Chances are it was kept anonymous, but I'll at least ask."
"Please do. It's really important for me to get that dress."
"Are you ever going to tell me why? Or why none of you will tell me where you are so I can visit Bren? Need I remind you that if it weren't for me, Dylan, you wouldn't've even known that you had to go find Brenda?"
"It's not you, Don."
"If you're trying to keep Kel away, it's not like I'd tell her where Bren is if I knew. Why is it such a big secret?"
"It's not." Dylan set the edge of his thumb on his forehead. "It's just, Bren can't really handle visitors right now."
"Dylan." Donna's tone steeled. "What is going on with Brenda?"
"Brenda?"
Weeks. It had been several weeks since he'd heard her voice.
He couldn't say he had missed it.
"Don, who you talking to? Is that Brandon? Can I talk to him?"
"Donna, I gotta go," said Dylan, none too keen to remain on the line with Kelly around.
Valerie's reveal of the words Kelly had spoken about Val stuck in Dylan's mind, resulting in his rumination over what Kelly may have told Brenda in their past.
Unfortunately, only two people knew and of those two, only Kelly could tell him.
"Wait!" said Kelly. "Dylan! Are you with Brenda right now?"
"Not right now," he said truthfully, neglecting to add that he would be seeing Brenda later.
"But you know where she is?"
"Maybe," he stiffly replied.
"Look," said Kelly, "Matt was going through some things in the garage and he found a box of Bren's stuff. I'm just trying to figure out how to get it to her, since I assume she'll want it back eventually."
A box of Bren's stuff.
A box, in the Casa Walsh garage, of Bren's stuff.
Is it our box? Dylan wondered with the most rhythmic of heartbeats.
He deliberated. If Kelly didn't know where they were, then Dylan didn't find the need to tell her. Sending the box to Hong Kong to forward on over would perhaps be a lengthy process. London could be faster.
Steve believed London would be the perfect option, when Dylan asked Steve about flying back to LA to retrieve the box.
"But I don't wanna go," said Steve. "You need me here for Bren, and I've only just gotten Clare to sorta hang out with me when we watch Bren."
"It'll only be for a couple days," said Dylan. "A week, at most. Just think of what the box might do for Bren's memories, Sanders. You could be a hero."
"And you can pick up the tapes from Jackie's while you're there," said David. "Won't take as long for them to get here."
"And the sooner we have the tapes," said Valerie, "the sooner Bren can watch the footage David captured of all of you."
"We don't know if the box or the tapes will help," noted Steve.
"Whether it takes a year for Bren to remember; five years, ten years, twenty, thirty, or she never does," said Dylan, "we have to do everything we possibly can to help her. She needs the box. She needs those tapes. And you, Sanders; you need to get them for her."
"Can't Silver go?" asked Steve.
"No can do, my man," said David. "Too much going on with my store."
"Bren's store," Dylan corrected.
"Bren's store," said David. "Yeah, you know what I meant. Gotta be you, Steve. The rest of us have too much going on."
"And if you think I'm flying back there when my twins are here, you need to check yourself in ASAP," said Valerie.
Steve puffed. He whinged. Scowled.
And then, he consented.
"Clare better not be engaged to Kai by the time I get back, or I'm not talking to any of you," grumbled Steve.
"Then you best be quick," said Val sweetly.
Too sweetly.
Dylan soon found out why, when he met Kai Lasko himself and learnt that the man Valerie had chosen to heighten Steve's insecurities was, in fact, gay.
"Payback?" he asked Valerie knowingly.
"Payback," she said gleefully. "You gonna tell Steve?"
"Nah, let him sweat," said Dylan.
He and Valerie had met with Clare and Andrea to rehearse the scene they were to perform in front of Brenda.
Whilst acting came almost as naturally to Valerie as it did to Brenda, the other two were more predisposed to stage fright.
This particularly applied to Clare.
That was where Kai came in, assistant director to Dylan's director.
Kai worked wonders with Clare, helping her stage fright to dissipate the more Clare practiced her lines.
Convincing Andrea to cooperate whilst upset with Dylan was a bit tougher.
"I cannot believe you just completely eradicated your history with both of the twins like that," said Andrea. "Give me one good reason why I should still help you."
"Because you aren't helping me," said Dylan. "You're helping Bren."
That had become his go-to line to persuade those hesitant to participate in his plan.
He took no qualms in guilting them, as he truly believed the plan might indeed help Brenda.
"Am I, though?" asked Andrea. "I was happy to help when I thought you possessed a great deal of love and care for Brenda. But if, even after your extensive time together in London, Brenda remains so easily disposable to you; not to mention Brandon…"
"Andrea, I swear on my life that Bren is not disposable. Neither is Brandon. The shit I said; I wish I could take it back. But I can't. All I can do is work to prove to her, to him, to you, and to everyone else that I do genuinely love Brenda. That I do want to spend my life with her; but moreover, right now I just wanna do everything I possibly can to ease Bren's mind and her pain."
"You better not make me regret this, Dylan."
Perhaps due to her own numerous fuckups within her plethora of relationships, Valerie was a tad more understanding.
A tad.
That didn't mean Val didn't take every opportunity to remind Dylan that he could have been the one driving Brenda around if he hadn't shattered Brenda's trust.
That he could have spent the days with her, instead of just the nights.
His ability to still spend any time with Brenda was something Dylan did not take for granted.
When she came home after a long, tedious day filled with therapy, training, and testing by Clare's team, Dylan noticed Brenda's wince.
He stood, but drew back as Brenda raised her palm.
"It's just my feet," she said.
"Are they hurting?" he asked.
"Boots may not have been the best idea today," she admitted.
"Come." He sat and tapped the space beside him. "Lay back."
Brenda dutifully complied.
"May I?" he asked, signaling to her legs.
Brenda draped her legs over his. Dylan's hand hovered over her right boot until he received Brenda's smile of approval.
He carefully unlaced the boot and removed it from Brenda's foot. Next came her legwarmer, followed by a thick sock.
"She give you any trouble today?" he asked, flexing out his hands in a show of what he planned to do.
Brenda pushed out her foot towards him, and closed her eyes as Dylan began the massage.
"Actually, she was surprisingly calm for all the activity we had," said Brenda.
"Concerning calm?" asked Dylan, palpating the sole of Brenda's foot.
"A nice calm," she assured him.
Dylan didn't want to worry over either of his girls, but with three medical situations already under their belts, he couldn't easily discard his anxiety.
"Damn," Brenda moaned. "Do you give massages this good to all your ladies?"
"Just you," he said with a crooked grin, wondering if Brenda's mind had slightly prickled with an action Dylan had often done following her long rehearsals.
He doubted, however, that he would be permitted to massage her nipples, which in the past would have ended with a tussle in their sheets.
"Should I do the other foot?" he asked.
"God yes," she said. "Can you get my back, too?"
"Absolutely," he said, swallowing his emotion that Brenda had requested his touch even in her alert state.
Keeping his lips off of Brenda during the massage was almost impossible, but Dylan succeeded.
"Can we take a break from the bad stories?" she asked, turning to lie on her side. "Tell me something good."
"What do you wanna know?" he asked, slipping down the collar of Brenda's shirt to massage her shoulder.
He intended to keep massaging her until Brenda told him to stop.
"Tell me about the first time we were alone."
"The first time we were alone?" He hoped she would pick up on his tone to understand his implied question.
"I don't mean like that," she said. "I mean, the first time it was just you and me, talking without anybody else around."
"That happened pretty quickly," he said. "I happened to ride by when you were jogging."
"On your bike?" she asked. "I, uh, saw it out back."
"Yeah," he smiled, "on my bike."
"Did we go up the Coast a lot? Or down?"
"Once. But that was in my car, the old Porsche. Wanted to take you on the bike. You weren't too keen on the idea."
"Could you take me on the bike now?"
Dylan rapidly blinked. "Now now? Is it safe?"
"Probably not." Brenda's excitement dampened. "But maybe after she's born?"
"Whenever, wherever, as long as it doesn't put you or our kid at risk."
"But you're just fine risking your own life on a bike you're nervous about your family riding on?"
"Yeah okay, I see the hypocrisy there."
"As long as you see it," said Brenda, though the luster in her eyes betrayed the stern line of her lips.
"Maybe it's better if we don't push our luck right now with the bike, but we could go out tonight, if you want," said Dylan.
Brenda shifted to sit up. "It didn't go so great the last time we went out," she noted.
"All the more reason for us to keep going out until we get it right."
"I dunno."
"Bren -"
"Dylan. You said you wouldn't push."
"Yeah," he said dejectedly. "You're right. I won't."
"Maybe we could go this weekend," she added as an afterthought. "Saturday. I could take you ice fishing. Have you been ice fishing?"
Ordinarily, he would have begun playing with her hair. "Can't say I have," he said, tensing his hand to prevent his fingers from wandering on their own accord.
"Have you been fishing at all?"
"Once. This girl taught me how to bait a hook."
"Kelly?"
Dylan snorted. "You couldn't pay Kel to fish."
"That's how I learnt," said Brenda. "I paid Bobby to teach me."
Dylan bolted upward. "What'd you just say?" he whispered.
"I said that I paid Bobby to tea - oh!" The hues in Brenda's eyes seemed to leap in her realization. "I paid Bobby to teach me how to fish! Dylan! I remembered Bobby!"
It was a difficult feat to be genuinely delighted that Brenda remembered someone of great importance to her whilst attempting to conceal the overwhelming disappointment that Brenda's only returning memories continued to be from her lifelong relationships.
"In full?" he asked. "Do you remember Bobby in full?"
"No, but; well, it's a start, isn't it?"
"It's definitely a start, Bren. See? All that training is helping."
Dylan was relieved when Brenda leant into him for a congratulatory hug.
"What'd you pay him with?" he questioned, lightly squeezing her.
"Rolie-polies," she said. "Bobby was obsessed with rolie-polies. I used to gather them all in a jar and that was the currency Bran and I would use when we wanted Bobby to teach us things. He taught Brandon how to block a sailing hockey puck too, because of the Twins' Bank of Rolie-Polies."
"The Twins' Bank of Rolie-Polies," said Dylan. "Another children's book in the making. Your childhood escapades are just waiting to be added to our shelves."
"Have you written any more for the play?"
"A bit. I've mostly been focusing on the shop. Would you like me to write more?"
Brenda gave an overeager nod.
"Then I will," he said.
"When is Steve coming back?" she asked, tickling the gaps between Dylan's fingers. "I miss him."
"He texted while you were out. Said he should be back by Monday."
"Why'd he leave again?" Brenda inclined her head until her tantalizing neck centered itself in Dylan's eyeline.
"To get your tapes and box."
"Oh yes, that's right. What's in the box?"
"I wasn't privy to that information, but there's guaranteed to be a few photos of us."
"I think there's something shiny in there."
"Something shiny?"
"Yes, something that catches the sun."
Had Brenda put a random prism into what Dylan could only presume was the box that held the remnants of their adolescent relationship?
He chalked it up to one of Brenda's nonsensical ramblings.
"So anyway," she said, "ice fishing. Wanna go?"
"If you want to take me ice fishing, hell yes I wanna go. Think you'll be alright to fish?"
"It's one of those things I can easily still do. You can take the girl out of Minnesota and Minnesota out of the girl, but you can't take fishing from her. I wouldn't really take you for the fishing type."
"What's the fishing type?"
"Not you."
"Funny. There was a time I would've said you weren't the surfing type. Guess you caved to the thrill of the adventure."
"And you caved to the fragrance of fresh fish?"
More like the fragrance of Brenda as he had inhaled her hair whilst hooked to her line.
"Gave me a reason to hang out with you," he shrugged.
"Maybe we could do that," said Brenda.
"Do what?"
"Hang out. Not exactly start fresh because, well, that's clearly impossible," she gestured to her stomach, "but just spend time, hanging out. You did say we were close friends before; didn't you?"
"We have been, yeah."
"Then maybe we can be again."
"It might mean the twatwaffle tosser would need to give you lifts," said Dylan with a bite of his lower lip and purposeful roaming of his hooded eyes.
"Val will give us the lifts," said Brenda. "She'll join us until I decide she doesn't need to anymore. It'll be like before you moved in, but different."
"Speaking of Val," said Dylan, "there might be some movement from her on the Silver front. Swear I saw them laughing together earlier. Granted, that was over a song they both seem to hate, but it's less tense than it's been."
To dispel Brenda's ludicrous insistence of Dylan's imaginary feelings for Val, he ensured that he continuously brought up Valerie's tenuous relationship with David.
"What happened between my brother and Kelly?" asked Brenda.
The question threw Dylan for a loop.
"Bren, I'm not the best person to ask about this. I could tell you what happened with Val and Silver. I could maybe help you piece together what happened between Sanders and Arnold."
"I want to know what happened between Bran and Kelly."
"I really shouldn't be talking to you about Kelly."
"Why?" Brenda challenged. "Are you in love with her?"
Dylan sighed and fought to conceal his irritation that Brenda assumed he was in love with everyone but her.
He supposed he had brought that on himself, as well.
"No," he said.
"Then are you in like with her?"
Another no.
Did he love Kelly offered Brenda a third - and Dylan hoped, final - no, with an added punch to the word.
"Then if you aren't in love or in like with her, you oughta be able to tell me," said Brenda in the tone of one who verbalizes their packing list for holiday travel. "Brandon has made it crystal clear he doesn't want to talk about it and I know from Clare that my brother and Kelly were the ones who almost married."
"My understanding is they thought they didn't swing from the chandeliers," said Dylan. "Seems to be something they both told themselves that neither really believed. But I'm not the guy to ask. I wasn't around at the time and your brother isn't too forthcoming with me about it. If you really wanna know the full details, Sanders would be the one to ask. Val could tell you, too."
"Val seems heavily biased when it comes to Kelly."
"Val is heavily biased when it comes to Kelly. Kel's the same way about Val. They have a mutual enmity for each other."
"But Brandon loved her, didn't he? You loved her, and Steve also loves her. There must be a reason," said Brenda. "Kelly can't be all bad, or my favorite lads wouldn't like her so much."
Dylan wondered if he counted amongst Brenda's favorite lads.
"Did we swing from the chandeliers?" she asked.
"Got a craving for anything?" asked Dylan.
"Now that you mention it, I could go for a slice of pie."
"Peach?"
"Does your kid have a palette for other pie flavors?" answered Brenda.
As if on cue, Dylan headed for the fridge.
"That craving you're experiencing is the only proof you need that, Bren; you and I absolutely swung from the fufrickin' chandeliers." Dylan dished out a slice, grabbed a fork, and handed Brenda the plate. "Since the very first moment we slept together, to the la - ah, the most recent moment."
"But people can get pregnant without any swinging chandeliers involved," said Brenda as she bit into her pie.
"Bren, we didn't just make those chandeliers swing. We made them do somersaults and tried to keep them from pushing through the downstairs neighbor's ceiling."
God, she was making him hard just talking about the times they had been together.
"Was it good?" asked Brenda. "Our first time?"
"Good?" Dylan chuckled and shook his head. "Good isn't the word. It was fantastic. It was so fantastic, in fact, that I thought about contacting the folks over at Merriam-Webster to suggest a new word."
"What word?"
"Brendafied."
"Brendafied?"
"It means having the best sex of your life with the girl that, even at sixteen, you can picture yourself marrying. Going so deep into her that you just want to go deeper and never emerge again if it means you've got to separate. Being Brendafied."
"You must've been Kellyfied before you could call Merriam-Webster," Brenda snarked.
Don't argue, Dylan told himself, repeating the unspoken sentence multiple times.
He wished, as he often did, that he could rewind the clock. But he couldn't. All he could do was own up to his fuckups and never again screw up that royally.
"Hey, don't knock the Brendafied," he said. "And that's not pushing. I'm just saying, I can't speak to what you were feeling at the time, but if it was anything close to how I felt, then you were practically Dylanified."
"We need a better word than Dylanified."
"I'd be happy for you to come up with one."
"I'll work on it."
Brenda angled herself towards the kitchen.
"Will you help me with something I've really been wanting to do?" she asked.
"As long as it doesn't involve any heavy lifting on your end."
That was how Dylan found himself standing in the kitchen, protectively shielding the air around Brenda.
"Is it okay for you to be doing this, Bren?"
"It's the oven," said Brenda. "I won't use the stove. And I really want to cook for my family, Dylan."
"Yeah, but aren't there less complicated meals you can make that don't require as much time in the kitchen?"
"Pizza is hardly complicated."
"You're making it from scratch."
"It's still barely complicated. Why are you so nervous?"
"I'm not nervous about your cooking skills. I know you've got 'em."
He was more nervous that Brenda would burn herself on the oven rack if Dylan turned away from her for even a second.
"Then how about you help me?"
Dylan rolled up his sleeves and got to work, kneading out the dough as Brenda instructed.
Flour soon found its way to Dylan's hair. Laughing, Brenda stood directly in front of him to wipe away his floury shampoo.
Dylan knew he didn't imagine it when Brenda's gaze dropped to his lips for the briefest of seconds.
She slowly rubbed the pad of her thumb over his eyebrow.
"Was it bad?" she asked. Her gaze bore into the upper part of his countenance.
"Was what bad?" he asked through a throat that hankered for a cool beverage.
"Whatever gave you this scar," she said.
"You - you know I have a scar?"
"I mean, it's kinda obvious you have a cut on your brow and since it isn't bleeding or anything, I assume it's old. So it'd have to be a scar."
"Sorry," he said. "It's just; well, you're the only person besides my parents who knew the reason behind my scar and I just kinda; I hoped that -"
"You hoped it meant I was remembering the moment you told me."
"Yeah." He rested his hand by his side, palm facing out. "Kind of. Admittedly."
"It's only natural for you to hope."
"But doesn't hoping add unnecessary pressure on you?"
"Hoping isn't pressing. If you take away a person's hope, then all that would remain is the dark," said Brenda. "And I detest the dark."
Dylan also detested the dark.
"So don't feel bad about hoping," she said. "In fact, let yourself hope."
"I'm full to the brim of hope," he said. "More hope than I've ever possessed in my entire life."
"Then hold onto that," she said. "Was the moment you told me about your scar another good moment?"
"It was one of our best."
"Tell me about it," said Brenda as she returned to shaping the pizza.
Dylan walked to stand directly behind Brenda, close enough to breathe on the nape of her neck. His arms hovered around her, neither distant nor touching, as he helped her to add cheese and toppings.
In the process, he told Brenda of Valentine's Day blood draws, tickets to plays, bouquets, and an abridged, PG-rated version of what had happened after they viewed a performance of Love Letters.
"I must've really loved you," said Brenda whilst placing the pizza into the oven. "Because I fucking hate needles."
"You hated them then, too. It meant the world to me that you didn't mind us giving blood that night. It's not exactly the most romantic thing for anyone to do, let alone two teenagers on Valentine's."
"I probably saw how important it was to you and figured I could release the fear just for one night."
"I wouldn't be surprised if that's exactly what you thought."
He told her for the second time of his accident, one of several triggers that had caused Jack to drink.
Dylan didn't tell her that part.
They were having a nice evening, certainly nicer than the atmosphere had been as of late. He didn't want to ruin it by bringing up his family problems.
He brought up Brenda's family, instead.
He asked her if she would like for Bobby to come for a visit. Although Brenda showed an initial excitement for the idea, she had decided by dinnertime that Bobby should not come until she had another memory of him.
Since Brenda didn't have any of Donna or the London crew, Dylan and Brandon agreed that those visits should also be held off until Brenda decided otherwise.
Brandon had joined Dylan outside, where Dylan had gone to break the news to Donna, who had understandably been upset and once more asked for details on Brenda's situation.
Dylan didn't give them to her.
"You know," said Brandon, glancing over the gable roofs of the town, "you once told me that Bren had moved to another continent to get away from me. I didn't think that you had moved to London to do the same."
Dylan cringed at his words.
"I said that?" he asked.
"You did. That, and wishing the bridges you burn would light the way. You didn't just burn those bridges, Dylan. You took a frickin' grenade to them. It's like you wanted them to implode. Like you were just waiting for an end to you and Bren so you had an excuse to end whatever ties you and I still had. It's because of the puzzle, isn't it?"
Dylan furrowed his brows. "What puzzle?"
"That one of my parents. The one I broke into your house to get to."
"That was fucking asinine, what you did - especially right after the carjacking - but it didn't make me want to implode anything."
"I just don't get what Bren and I could have done to make you despise us so much."
"I never despised you." Pain stretched its icicle-embedded fingers along Dylan. "Either of you."
"You'd have to despise us to say shit like that," said Brandon. "You'd have to despise me to purposefully go after my relationship with Kelly. I accepted that even before you and Bren broke up, but what I won't accept is how you could've despised Bren."
"It wasn't despise."
"Then what was it?"
"Anger. Hurt. It's always anger, hurt, or both."
"How do I know that whenever you get angry or hurt, you won't take it out on my sister?"
Brandon barreled on, effectively silencing Dylan's planned protest.
"I don't mean physically," said Brandon. "Whatever I think of you right now, I know that you would never physically harm a woman, and that my sister is at the top of that list of women you would never harm. But you can hurt her emotionally, with your words. You have hurt her emotionally, with your words. Bren's been hurt enough without you throwing around more words in your anger, Dylan."
"You know, up until January, you woulda been right."
"About?" asked Brandon, fazed by Dylan's admittance.
"That I would never physically harm a woman. Up until January, you woulda been right," Dylan repeated.
"What the hell happened in January?" asked Brandon.
Dylan told him about learning, whilst under the influence of drugs, that Toni's grave had been moved. He told Brandon about storming into the Marchette house and holding a gun on an innocent woman who he learnt had nothing to do with Anthony Marchette.
"Why are you telling me this?" was all the flummoxed Brandon could get out when Dylan had finished.
"In the spirit of honesty? Letting you know that I truly loathe the person I became after London and I'm determined to never return to that place again?"
"If you bring a gun around my family, McKay, I will have absolutely no issue in insisting Bren go for full custody. And a restraining order."
"I can't promise there won't be one on the property at all because while Marchette may be dead, his men aren't, and I will do anything I need to do to protect our girls. But I can promise we won't have one laying around the house, and definitely not where my kids can get to it."
"Kid."
"Pardon?"
"You said kids. It's kid."
"You know Bren always wanted more than one. She just wouldn't agree to the six I wanted."
"Why do you want six?"
"Let's call it fulfilling a fantasy."
"That's a bizarre fantasy."
"Don't you want an entire hockey team of kids?"
"I haven't fantasized about it."
"Regardless. Isn't that six?"
"Twenty. Six are on the ice at one time. Twenty are on the team."
"You want twenty kids? Damn, B. You might as well open up an orphanage."
Dylan hoped Brandon's chuckle was a step in the right direction for their own healing.
"Let's just say that these days, I'm leaning more towards a basketball team," said Brandon. "And only the players that can be on the court at one time."
"See? Five is hardly smaller than six."
"Good luck trying to persuade my sister into six."
"I'll settle for three."
"Why three?"
"'Cause the Minnesota Twins are the definition of two being beaucoup competitive and a third evening things out."
Brandon let out a proper belly laugh.
The tension between the men hadn't been erased, but it had, to Dylan's relief, eased somewhat.
He still had a shit ton to prove to both twins.
Perhaps he would need to continue proving himself as the years went on.
Strangely, the thought didn't irk him.
Dylan's initial irritation at Valerie joining in on ice fishing had quickly evaporated as he realized just how awful Val was at fishing.
"Not at fishing," corrected Val. "Ice fishing. Regular fishing, I can do no problem. Ice fishing is where it gets complicated."
"What's so complicated about it?" asked Brenda, who had already produced two fish in less than an hour; burbot, she had explained. Val had almost secured one. Dylan hadn't had a single bite.
"Bren, I think you should come over here and help your child's father figure out how to get one damn fish," said Dylan, struggling with his line.
"Aren't men supposed to be good at fishing?" asked Val cheekily.
"Aren't women supposed to be good at baking?" Dylan retorted.
"I'm still a better driver than you," said Val.
"Only because you haven't had your license revoked."
"Yet."
Accustomed to their banter, Brenda merely lifted her eyes to the heavens, set down her fishing rod, and walked over to Dylan.
"Hold it like this," she said, slipping her arms around Dylan's to direct his movement.
They stood so close that Dylan could feel the curve of Brenda's stomach press into his back.
"Like this?" he asked, purposely doing the opposite of how Brenda had shown him to get Brenda to stay longer in that position.
"No, like this." She showed him again. Her breaths caressed the side of his neck.
"Oh, like this." Dylan cast the line, angling his head until his face practically touched Brenda's.
"Exactly like that," she smiled the special smile he had only ever seen aimed at him.
Then, before Dylan could even consider trying to give Brenda a small peck on any part of her face, she withdrew and returned back to her spot.
"Straight outta my playbook," Val muttered to Dylan.
"What can I say?" asked Dylan. "I'm just horrible at fishing."
"But you like it, don't you?" asked Val.
"Yeah, quite a lot. It's peaceful. Serene."
Not to mention watching Brenda fish turned Dylan on.
Then again, watching Brenda do anything turned Dylan on.
"And you wasted all that time chasing a woman who'll only deal with a fish once it's been cooked," said Val. "But you must've had loads more in common, right? Terrible childhoods and all that?"
"Val, c'mon."
"I mean, if sharing kindergarten teachers and growing up in terrible families are all it takes to be soulmates, then Kel might wanna reconsider if Steve isn't hers."
"You saying you want Kelly and Steve together now?" asked Dylan, comprehending Val's meaning.
"Not on your life," said Val. "I'm Team Steve-get-your-head-outta-your-ass-and-tell-Clare-your-feelings all the way."
"Is there a Team Val-get-it-together-and-let-Silver-back-in-before-he-gives-up? 'Cause I'd be on that."
"Go back to your fishing."
Brenda brought forth a whole catch. Valerie managed three. Dylan got one.
It was a tiny baby fish, so he had to gently ease it back into the water.
They met up with Brandon to look at more properties, Brenda telling Dylan along the way the reason why she and Brandon had moved where they had.
"In many ways, I was lucky," said Brenda. "It could've been a whole lot worse. Oftentimes with my kind of condition, people lose the ability to speak. I didn't. I was more reserved in the beginning and less willing to talk to anyone who wasn't Brandon, but it didn't take long until I was piecing together whole sentences. Bran says our grandmother researched facilities to see which ones would be best for my situation. That's how we found Alina, and Alina's the reason we came out here."
"I could see Brandon living in a country this cold," said Dylan. "Wouldn't've pictured you here."
"That's probably why I won't be staying forever," said Brenda. "I like to have more than a few months of warmth."
"Wouldn't've pictured you in any icicle-covered country," said Val. "Kinda makes it hard to surf, no?"
"There's more to me than my hobbies and passions, Val," said Dylan.
"Glad you've finally started to remember that, Dyl."
"I've decided you two shouldn't date," said Brenda. "Do you ever stop rowing?"
"Dylan rows?" asked Val.
"She means bickering," said Dylan.
"And we weren't gonna date," he and Valerie added in unison.
That didn't help, as it resulted in Brenda thinking that Dylan and Valerie were in sync.
Dylan couldn't have been happier for Brandon's car to pull into the drive.
They left for Steve's with Brenda excitedly chatting about the plans she had for the new house, which Dylan had snatched the paperwork for as soon as he saw the effect it had on Brenda.
"If it's a rental, can we paint the walls?" she asked.
"Landlord said it was fine to put in a mural," said Dylan.
"How'd you know I was thinking about a mural?"
"'Cause I know you," he said. "Can't be an ocean-themed nursery without a mural."
He figured he could relocate their family to Italy within a year or two.
Certainly before their kid's third birthday.
Steve had a few more items for Brenda than Dylan had expected.
"Care package from Donna," said Steve. "She's pissed that we've been so secretive, so she demanded I bring it back with me. Donna ensured everything could go through Customs before putting it together."
"Anything in there Bren can't eat?"
"She can eat it all. I already removed anything she can't and claimed it for the Sanders-Silver pantry. Bad news on the dress front, though. Don couldn't find out who got it."
"Dammit!" exclaimed Dylan.
He'd have to think of another way to invoke the memory of their spring dance.
Dylan watched Brenda stare down as if in a daze at the faded black letters that labelled her box.
"Bren?" he asked.
"It's like I know this box," said Brenda, "but I don't know it, at the same time."
"Like déjà vu?" asked Val.
"Not really," said Brenda. "Like I can picture standing there, packing things into it, but it's all fuzzy and distorted, like seeing it through a kaleidoscope."
They all congregated around the box as Valerie confessed that she had opened Brenda's box before.
"Did you read my diary, too?" asked Brenda.
"Not your diary," said Val, emphasizing the second word.
"Good," said Brenda. "Because Brandon read it when we were kids, and I was mad at him for weeks about it afterwards."
"Oh yeah!" said Val. "That's how Owen found out you had a crush on his best friend."
"Brandon read Brenda's diary and told their cousin its contents?" asked Dylan for clarification.
He and Steve exchanged mischievous smiles upon Valerie's confirmation.
Leverage on Brandon. Excellent.
"Do we have any of my diaries?" asked Brenda. "It might help me to read them."
Of all the things Dylan had thought of to help Brenda, getting her diaries shipped over hadn't once occurred to him.
"I think you had them in our flat," he said.
"That's unfortunate," said Brenda. "I think Brandon said he had everything boxed up that was in there."
"I wanna say he had your friends over there store your stuff until he thought you might be ready for it," said Val.
Dylan would contact the London crew as soon as he got home.
"Oh God," Brenda groaned.
Two men and one woman immediately stood at attention.
Brenda realized her mistake.
"Okay, maybe I should've done something besides groan, but don't tell me I actually wore this?" she asked, withdrawing a heap of fabric from the box.
A heap of fabric that, when unfolded, became a fucking panda dress.
"You and Kelly," said Val. "Shoulda listened to me when I tried to tell you to get something more colorful. It was a spring dance, not a glam night in Hollywood. You might as well have been a beautifully dressed newspaper."
"I thought they both looked hot in it," said Steve. "McKay?"
"You already know the moment I thought Bren looked best in," said Dylan in a tone slightly above a mumble. He refused to remove his stare from the dress, lest it evaporate or journey over to Taiwan to join its copy.
Valerie got a kick out of a framed photo of Dylan.
"Egotistical much?" she said.
"Like you've never gifted anyone with a photo of yourself," said Dylan.
That shut Val right up.
"Obviously you'd give a photo of yourself," said Steve. "That way, if any guys come over intent on taking your girl, your face will intimidate them into leaving."
That was not why Dylan had given Brenda the photo.
Dylan removed picture after picture, poems he had forgotten he'd written, love notes he fully recalled slipping into Brenda's locker. A pink lei. Stuffed animals they could rehome in the nursery. A ticket stub for Love Letters. A copy of Love Letters, the play Brenda had purchased in the bookshop before Dylan had chased her down.
Digging further into the box, Brenda released an expression of wonderment before withdrawing another, much smaller item.
Something shiny that caught the last light of day, as a prism does a rainbow.
Hanging on a chain.
Half of a teenage boy's ardent heart.
-x
Considering Donna's immense love for Brandon, she would've firmly been on Team BK if the writers hadn't pushed the DK shit so hard. Idc idc.
Lethe now has a trailer, up at WISH UPON A DREAM on YouTube and WISHUPONAMILLIONDREAMS on Instagram (inspired by the iconic She's the Man trailer.)
(Shout-out to KJ to express my continued gratitude and appreciation. I love the Steve and Clare banter, so thank you! Val and Dylan I do enjoy in the romantic sense - the only Dylan pairing I enjoy outside of BD - but they also have a wonderful possibility for platonic arguing besties who have gone through the same shit in life, done the same shit, and treated people the same shitty way so that they can help each other to grow.)
Thanks a million! x