Melancholia was not in Steve Sanders' nature.
Whereas Dylan was often surrounded by gloom, Steve personified cheer. Even in his more questionable moments, Steve was known to find the silver lining; or rather a gold lining that would spin his despair into a money-making venture.
It was, therefore, unsettling for Brandon to be accompanied by a Steve who had barely spoken two words since they had arrived in Tartu.
On a night out when even willing women couldn't draw Steve's eye, Brandon sat him down.
"Out with it," said Brandon.
"Out with what?" asked Steve.
"You've turned down a redhead and a blonde," said Brandon. "Something's bothering you. Out with it. Is it about Clare?"
"Clare." Steve scoffed. "I don't ever want to hear that fucking name again."
Brandon was startled. "So it is about Clare."
"Tell me, Brando, am I really so repulsively immature that someone could hate me enough to completely blow up my life without thinking twice?"
"Woah, slow down there, Big Guy. What happened?"
First, Steve asked for confirmation that Brandon had never told anyone about their secret Brandon had sworn to conceal eight years before.
"I swore, didn't I?" asked Brandon. "Never told a soul."
"Can you make room for a second thing you'll never tell anyone?"
"If you're dying, this is a really shitty way for you to tell me."
"I'm not dying, but getting slammed by a monster truck sure makes it feel like I am."
"Steve."
"What would you do, Brando? If hypothetically your ex-girlfriend told you she got rid of it?"
"Got rid of what?"
Steve jerked his head to indicate that Brandon could figure it out on his own.
"Wait." Brandon gawked. "Fuck. Was Clare -"
"Pregnant, yeah," said Steve. "Pregnant with my kid and instead of call Kelly or Donna to drag my ass out to Paris so I could be there for Clare's decision, she left me one measly voicemail she knew I would ignore and then got rid of my kid while I was on the other side of the fucking ocean, and a whole damn country."
"Damn," said Brandon. "That's rough."
"You think?" Acid dripped from Steve's words. "Worst part, Brando? Clare's body. Her decision, right? So I can't even be mad about it, can I?"
"How'd you find out?" Brandon asked rather than respond to Steve's question.
"Clare told me," said Steve. "And she'd been drinking when she did so who knows if she would've ever told me if she hadn't."
"Would you have wanted it?" Brandon ventured.
"I don't know," said Steve. "At the time? Probably not. Now, with being around Bren and Dylan and their excitement for their own kid? Maybe. It would've been nice to at least be consulted from the girl I thought loved me. We could've talked about it, maybe put the kid up for adoption and then I could find him years later when my life was more solid."
"Not everyone ends up with an adoptive mother like yours, Steve."
"I know. I just – I hate that the whole time Jody tried to convince me she was having my kid, Clare actually was. Or had been. One of those."
Pounding at the bartop, Steve shot an apologetic glance towards the bartender.
"I thought coming here, having that distraction would help, but it hasn't. God, Brando, I'm torn between never seeing her again and wanting to know everything. Did she grow at all? Did my kid kick at all? Have a heartbeat? Did Clare hear it? Would she have even gone through with it if I'd been around?"
"You can't think like that."
"How am I supposed to think? I should've known something was up when Kelly and Donna hadn't heard from her, but I figured it was just long-distance shit. Fuck, I'm an idiot."
"You're not an idiot."
"I'm the biggest idiot of them all."
"You want a distraction?"
"As many as you got."
"I knew a guy once who had to make a decision like that," Brandon said carefully. "He was young, in love, completely unprepared to raise a kid. But when his girl showed him the test, he had a strange kind of peace about it. Then she brought up abortion."
"What'd the guy do?"
"What could he do, except support her through whatever decision she made? He loved her. She was his entire world, and he didn't want anything to come between them. But he didn't have to wait for her decision. Nature made the decision for them, and she miscarried."
"I almost wish Clare had miscarried."
"No you don't."
"Okay, so I don't, but how can I forgive her for this? And it's not even something that can be up for forgiveness debate, is it? She thinks I'll hate her. Fuck, I wish I could hate her. I hate that I can't. Can we pound something here?" Steve zeroed in on the room's tawdry decor. "Why are we here, anyway?"
"You needed to go out."
"Not here. I mean, here here. In the country."
"I didn't know how to tell McKay," said Brandon. "One of Jack's old business partners was spotted hiding out in Estonia. My source thinks he knows where the guy's hiding and if I crack this story, the paper's considering sending me to the frontlines."
"The frontlines of what?"
"Kosovo."
"Kosov - Brandon, you can't go to Kosovo."
"Because you don't know where it is?"
"I don't, but that's not the point. You can't go to Kosovo because it'd be much longer than a weekend away from your sister, and we aren't even sure how she's handling this trip."
"With any luck, it won't be until after Bren gives birth and maybe by that time, she'll be okay without me around. Steve-o, this could make or break my career. Possibly the biggest byline of my life."
"You don't even know you're doing it, do you?" Steve scrutinized Brandon.
"Doing what?"
"Throwing yourself into work to avoid thinking about Kelly being back."
"Kelly isn't back. She's just here for a visit, and then she'll be gone again." Brandon signaled for a glass. "Wouldn't matter either way."
"She broke up with Matt and flew out to see you, didn't she? Sounds to me like Kel wants you back."
"Or maybe she came out for Dylan."
"Maybe you're telling yourself shit to avoid facing that you miss her."
"She could've come out for him. Maybe she's pretending she didn't because of everything with Bren. How do I know Kel isn't in love with Dylan? You know they slept together in Mexico?"
"So?"
"So, I leave town and Kelly falls back in bed with Dylan. That's pretty telling."
"If you've forgiven Dylan, I don't see why you can't forgive Kel."
"I'm not sure I have forgiven Dylan. He's just always around, like an annoying brown recluse you can't shake off 'cause he knocked up your sister."
Brandon watched Steve tremble.
"I shouldn't've said that," said Brandon.
"Bren's knocked up," said Steve. "That's the fact of life. People get knocked up every day, maybe every minute, and I'm gonna see some of them. There's no use in me trying to make that phrase taboo."
"What are you gonna do about Clare?" asked Brandon. "It's obvious to everyone how you feel about her. Well, obvious to everyone but you and Clare."
"I could tell you how Kel looked at you the other day and how she didn't look at McKay, or -"
"Or you can play bodyguard while I meet up with this guy."
"Fuck yeah. World's greatest bodyguard." Steve swung his elbow closer to his chest as he showed off his muscles.
"Looks like you're feeling better." Brandon followed along with Steve's eyeline, which landed on a woman sitting across the room.
"I almost was, 'til I saw that chick over there who looks way too much like Clare."
"She doesn't look anything like Clare."
"Whatever you say, Brando."
It wasn't Brandon's first encounter with an anonymous source, but it was his first with an immense amount riding on it.
Journalists waited years, sometimes decades, for a shot at reporting from the frontlines, and Brandon had it in his grasp.
Provided he could crack the story, which had only been assigned to him since his geographical placement saved the paper money on flying out a more experienced journalist who could be better used elsewhere.
His source informed him of Tom Rose's whereabouts, who the source swore would lead Brandon to who he truly sought if Brandon could pull off a convincing charade.
To say Brandon was intimidated by the salt-and-pepper-haired Tom Rose would be a gross underestimation. That intimidation further increased when Tom recounted an anecdote of holding some poor kid over the side of an aerial tram car and Brandon had to laugh along to play the part of an overeager mobster-in-training.
Brandon realized he may have gotten in over his head when he learnt of Tom Rose's funding of armed conflicts. Tom's crisp speech on such matters eerily reminded Brandon of the late Anthony Marchette, who Brandon despised for the havoc he had wreaked upon Dylan's life.
It was no surprise, then, when Brandon learnt Anthony had also been a business partner of Tom's.
"You knew Tony?" asked Tom.
"Vaguely," said Brandon. "Knew his daughter. We took a class or two together."
"Ah, Toni. Lovely girl. Almost as pretty as her mother, dear Graciela. Shame what happened to Graciela's girl, but that's what happens when you get mixed in with the riff-raff."
"Riff-raff?"
"Dylan McKay. Jack McKay's boy. You know him?"
"Can't say I do," Brandon answered with as much conviction as possible, as he did, in fact, not know Jack McKay's boy.
He instead knew a man who fervently desired to never again be anything resembling Jack McKay's boy.
"Hothead like his father," said Tom. "Tony, Jack, and I go way back. With those two gone, it's just me running things now."
"Gone?" asked Brandon. He hoped his mask was as perfectly placed as he thought it was.
"Murder. Suicide," said Tom as if losing friends to such events were everyday occurrences void of emotional response. "You sure ask a lot of questions, kid."
"Want to accomplish as much as I can in this business." Brandon breezed through his answer.
"You remind me an awful lot of myself at your age." Tom laced his fingers under his chin. "Want some advice?"
"Can always use advice."
"You want to excel in this business, you have to be prepared to give up everything. Family. Friends. Relationships. You'll get used to it after the first kill. You got a woman?"
"No woman," Brandon answered.
"Then you're halfway there."
"Trust me, sir. I will give my all to the job."
Tom sent Brandon on an errand to prove his worth. Once Brandon had followed through, Tom revealed that the man Brandon was looking for was called Immo Rawlins.
It wasn't until Brandon had returned home and begun researching Immo Rawlins that he learnt of Immo's financing of a certain company's legal team in a certain lawsuit.
Australia's FreightCorp.
And suddenly, Brandon reached a level of loathing he had never before known possible.
"Earth to Walsh. Trying to destroy your laptop with your mind?"
"Just got a lot on my mind," said Brandon, attempting to prevent Dylan from finding out the ties his father's old business partner had to the rail line Brenda had taken.
It was undoubtedly a freak accident, small world kind of occurrence, one that had nothing to do with Dylan or his father, but Brandon knew Dylan wouldn't see it that way.
He would go ballistic, and that would upset Brenda.
No, Brandon decided, it was better for him to keep the information to himself.
"Have you talked to Steve?" he asked.
"Not since you've been back," said Dylan. "Think he's planning to stop in for dinner, though. How'd it go in Tartu?"
"As well as can be expected," said Brandon. "How'd it go here?"
"You know. As well as can be expected." Dylan cracked open a can of soda pop and gulped it down. "There was a bit of a hiccup, but we got through it alright. Bren decided she wants our moms to come out."
"Then I should call Mom up?"
"Already did. She thinks she can get a week off at the end of the month."
"A week off? Mom's working?"
"Yeah, after Bren's accident, Cindy decided to get a job at her local hospital and start attending nursing school. Didn't she tell you?"
"I guess I haven't talked to her in a bit. You said Iris is also coming?"
"If I can get a hold of her. Her roommate says Iris is at some retreat or other. Color me surprised."
"Roommate?"
"I think they're more than roommates, but I'll play along 'til Iris decides to tell me."
"Speaking of deciding to tell you." Brandon stretched out his arms. "Paper's thinking of sending me over to Kosovo."
"Kosovo? Brandon, there's a whole fucking war going on in Kosovo. NATO is meeting in Washington to discuss it."
"I know."
"Bren will never be okay with that."
"Bren will understand journalists belong right at the heart of everything."
"Sure, man. 'Cause Bren can totally understand that kind of thing right now."
"If it becomes a sure thing, you can help me tell her."
"Oh no. No. You're on your own with that one, B. I have no plans to upset my girl any time soon."
"Still not your girl."
"We're getting there. Slowly, but surely."
"Would you give up your family to keep them safe?"
Dylan stiffened.
"That's kind of out of left-field," he said.
"But would you?"
"If I thought they'd be safer without me around? My inclination would absolutely be to let them go, but I would never be able to go through with it and Bren would never let me. She knows as well as I do that we're stronger together. When my strength falters - as it frequently does - I can borrow hers. And when her strength needs a boost, she can have mine." The lovelorn, wistful look adorning Dylan's features dissipated. "What have you gotten yourself into, Walsh? Do I need to be concerned that it'll affect Bren?"
"The kind of journalism I want to do can get dangerous, D. They could send me to all kinds of places. I could meet all kinds of people. Go undercover to expose the seedy underbelly of the wealthy."
"Just be careful, B. We wouldn't want to lose you."
"I'll try." Brandon lightened the mood with a change of subject. "Did my niece kick for you yet?"
"No, and I swear she's doing this on purpose," said Dylan.
"Bit of advice?" said Brandon. "Val and I weren't doing anything but standing near Bren when we felt her. Maybe try letting her come to you."
"You're not just talking about my daughter, are you?"
"Maybe. Maybe not."
It was the biggest secret he had ever kept from Brenda in his life, but Brandon told himself that Brenda was better off not knowing.
"Steve told me you're working on a pretty massive story." A curtain of blonde stopped Brandon in the supermarket with his cart full of groceries. "Anything I can do to help?"
"Kel," Brandon said as he swallowed down the ice pick in his chest. "I thought you'd left."
"Not for another week. I'm picking up some things for Donna and I. Bren thinks she'll drop by later."
"Are you and my sister friends again?"
"I don't know about friends," said Kelly. "I don't know how Bren felt about me before the crash and I don't want to force anything on her now that might be the opposite of then. We're just bonding as two people who both know what it's like to try to live with amnesia. I wish hers had been as short-lived as mine."
"You and me both."
Kelly stepped slightly closer and brushed a tendril off of Brandon's forehead.
"You are being careful, aren't you?" she asked.
"You know me, Kel. I'm always careful." Brandon gave her the look he knew frequently caused women of any age to swoon.
"I just - I don't want anything to happen to you, Bran. Especially not for a story."
It's almost like she knows, thought Brandon.
"Sometimes to get the story, you have to be prepared to give everything," he said.
"Bren gave everything for her job, and now a huge chunk of her life is missing," Kelly told him.
"It's not the same."
"Isn't it?" Kelly rested her hand against Brandon's jaw. "You don't have to become a workaholic like our fathers."
"Is that the real reason you decided to not marry me?" Brandon's tone lowered with each word. "You thought you were marrying a potential workaholic?"
"It was a mutual decision, Brandon. You didn't want to marry me, either."
"If you can acknowledge it was mutual, then why did you blame it on Valerie?"
Kelly dropped her hand.
"I guess because I wanted to find an excuse that didn't make it seem like I'd chosen to make one of the biggest mistakes of my life," she admitted. "Brandon, I - I still -"
"Brandon?" came a voice that approached them from behind.
"Alina, hi." Brandon greeted Alina with a warm smile.
"So you're Alina," said Kelly with what Brandon thought may have been a bit of an elitist tone.
"You have heard of me?" asked Alina.
"Bren told me how you've been helping her," said Kelly. "Thanks," she added with some hesitation.
"It is my job," said Alina. "Brandon, the girls at the clinic have missed you," she added.
"Tell them hello for me," said Brandon. "Maybe I'll try to coax Dylan into letting me take Bren to her next appointment, but I can't promise he'll go for it."
"Ah, Dylan," said Alina. "The way he is with Brenda, it is sweet. He is, how do you say, dote?"
"Doting," said Brandon. "He dotes on her."
"Yes, they are very cute," said Alina. "They are…soulmated?"
"Soulmates," said Kelly. "They're soulmates."
Brandon was flabbergasted to hear such words come from Kelly's mouth.
"Well, they are," she told Brandon. "For Bren to still get close to Dylan like that even not knowing him, they've got to be soulmates, or something like it. I can be a grownup and admit it."
"Next, you'll be braiding Val's hair and saying her and David are fated to be together," Brandon joked.
"We did go to Vegas together," Kelly reminded him. "And maybe I would be okay if David and Donna never got back together. They really did a number on each other last time. Maybe certain things should just stay in the past."
"What do they teach you in these therapy sessions?" asked Brandon. "I'm almost tempted to get Val into one."
"Valerie could probably benefit from one," said Kelly.
It was then Brandon realized he hadn't yet introduced Kelly to Alina.
"Alina, this is my…my…." He hadn't thought to put a label on what Kelly had become to him. "My fr -"
"Kelly," said Kelly as she shook Alina's hand. "I'm his Kelly. And if you have some time, I'd love to sit down and chat psychology with you."
"Kel studied it," said Brandon.
"I'm thinking of going back to school for child psychology," said Kelly.
Brandon lifted an eyebrow. "Are you now?"
"Why? You don't think I could do it?" Kelly challenged him.
"I think you could do anything you set your mind to, but you seemed to be pretty set on the shop."
"Don and I have talked it over and I think she's willing to step out on her own. That's why I agreed to open the store with her, Brandon."
"I didn't know that."
"You didn't ask."
Alina began to shift uncomfortably. "If you would like for a chat, I can give you my card," she said.
"Yes, please," said Kelly.
"I, ah, better get to the checkout," said Brandon as he gestured to the groceries in his cart.
"I'll see you later, yeah?" asked Kelly, as Alina asked the same in a more formal English.
"Yeah," Brandon chuckled nervously, as he scraped his hand along his neck and wondered what the hell was going on.
He wondered most of all whether Kelly was truly as over Dylan as she seemed, or whether Kelly had taken a leaf from the Brenda Walsh school of acting.
Perhaps Kelly simply desired a return of their close friendship.
He could do friends.
Maybe.
xx
He had lost control of his hands.
They constantly sought her touch, her hair, her love.
He didn't want to move, unwilling to adjust the position they had unwittingly gravitated towards.
Brenda slept on her side, facing Dylan as their clasped hands rested between them.
Dylan couldn't fathom how it was possible to feel more in love than he did simply by looking at Brenda lightly snoring beside him.
Brenda would never admit she snored, but she did, and the sound comforted Dylan.
Since they had begun sharing their bed, Brenda hadn't screamed once.
Dylan questioned if his own screams had also ceased.
"You're staring," Brenda murmured without opening her eyes.
"Damn right, I'm staring," Dylan answered as he combed his hand through Brenda's hair. "I swear your radiance increases by the day."
"And I swear no one on earth blandishes people more than you do, not even my brother with those eyes of his that make the girls at the clinic fall all over themselves just to stand beside him." Brenda opened her eyes as she stretched out. "Hi."
"Hey, yourself." Dylan granted Brenda a lopsided smile. "What time did we fall asleep?"
"Mm, probably about midnight. I missed the rest of the movie."
"We have our whole lives to watch it together again." Lifting off the covers, Dylan exposed his bare chest.
"God, you're beautiful," said Brenda. It was her turn to stare as she wondered aloud if she was carrying a mini-Dylan.
Dylan told her he hoped she was carrying a miniature version of her.
"No therapy or training today, Bren," he added. "Day's all yours. What'd you have in mind?"
"Well, I wanted a shower, but I can't find my fucking razor." Brenda glowered at the ceiling. "I must've misplaced it. I'll have to go down to the shop to buy another."
"You didn't misplace it. I hid it."
"You hid my razor?"
"Sí."
"Why did you hide my razor?"
"Because you've nicked yourself twice." Dylan's hand roamed over the nicks in question on Brenda's upper thighs. "A little too close to her for my liking."
"So I had trouble seeing down there and nicked myself a bit. No big deal. You're paranoid."
"After everything you and our daughter have been through? Of course I'm paranoid. Leave the blood draws to the professionals. You don't need to shave, anyway."
"What if I want to shave?"
"Then I can see your upper thighs better than you can."
"You're offering to shave me?"
"If it'll keep you from nicking yourself."
"Isn't that a little too intimate?"
"Pretty sure sharing a bed with the woman growing my kid is already plenty intimate," Dylan teased. "Not to mention everything we had to do to get her in you."
"Yeah, but," Brenda slipped out of their bed and Dylan immediately felt the loss, "you probably have a vivid recollection of how it was when we were intimate like that. I don't."
"I know," said Dylan.
He told Brenda that it was her decision, but he wouldn't be revealing the location of her missing razor if she insisted on shaving herself.
"That's got to be some kind of blackmail," Brenda protested.
He could see Brenda weighing her options, likely crafting a mental pro and con list the Walshes were infamous for, before digging into her drawers to toss Dylan his boxers.
"Put those on," she commanded.
Dylan granted her a cocky shake of his head and pulled on his boxers.
Droplets of warm water pelted down. Dylan grazed the razor over Brenda's upper thighs, his arm grasping her fabric-clad waist.
He had hoped Brenda would opt for a bikini, which she nearly had.
A swimsuit would suit…for now.
"Isn't that better?" he murmured into her ear. "No nicks."
"Can you wash my back?" she asked. "I got a bad arm cramp last time I tried to wash it."
"What my lady wishes, I shall do," said Dylan.
Brenda turned in his arms and traced her finger over his lips.
Dylan prayed he wouldn't frighten Brenda with an uncontrolled reaction by his lower half.
"I think I might love you," said Brenda as she gazed into Dylan's eyes.
"I think you'd make me the happiest guy to have ever existed if you did," Dylan managed to answer through the giant iceberg clogging his throat.
"But I don't know how to know for sure."
"You don't have to know for sure."
"Maybe I should experiment a bit to figure it out."
"Experiment?" Dylan stood in a boxing ring, sucker punched by a world champion. "Experiment how?"
"Idunno," said Brenda. "Maybe see if I can like anyone else."
The sucker punch transformed into a battering of Dylan's joints and limbs.
"You mean, see other people," he said in a voice that sounded like an old record player on its last leg.
"Is that what it's called?"
"It is when you're in a relationship and you break up to date others."
"But we're not in a relationship. We're close friends. Maybe even best friends."
"We're a bit more than best friends, babe." Dylan held up the razor.
"I need to be sure I don't just think I love you because she's pulling me toward you or something," said Brenda.
"Is that what you think? That anything you're feeling for me is because of her?"
"It might be."
"If she is pulling you toward me, we have one incredibly intelligent kid." Dylan lifted the edge of Brenda's swimsuit to wash her back. "Did you have anyone in mind?" He forced his voice to not sound like Brenda had taken a jewel-hilted knife to his gut and slashed it to pieces.
"No, but I'd of course introduce you to anyone who I did end up dating," said Brenda. "Since -"
"Since anyone around you would be around her too," said Dylan, "in and out of the womb."
"That's exactly what I was going to say," said Brenda, amazed.
"I figured as much," he said. "Gives me the chance to make sure he's a decent guy."
"Are you a decent guy?"
"No. But I'm trying."
"At least you're honest."
"It's this new thing I'm trying out."
"I like it. You should make it a permanent trait."
"I will," said Dylan, before it dawned on him what Brenda had said. "Dating? As in, plural dates?"
"With this belly, I'd be lucky to even get one," said Brenda.
"If you do get one, I reserve the right to take you on a few of our own."
"Doesn't that kind of defeat the purpose?"
"You think you might love me. It only makes sense that I help you figure out if you do, or if you can."
Brenda tucked her arms around Dylan's neck.
"Well, do you love me?" she asked.
"You mean, you don't know?" he questioned.
"I know Brandon loves Kelly, Steve loves Clare, and David loves Val too much that he went and screwed it all up again," she said. "But I'm only just now starting to believe that you don't love Val."
"Maybe you have to be secure in how I feel about you before you can know how you feel about me." Dylan held Brenda as close as he could. "We could start by removing our clothing," he half-joked. "You think I'm beautiful with a bare chest, just wait until you see how I look when the rest of me is fully bare."
"Good try," she said.
"I thought so," he said. "You'd have a queue of guys out the door waiting for a date with you, but I'd worry about the ones willing to date a girl carrying another man's kid."
"Who's been carrying that kid while said man was with other women, no?" asked Brenda.
"Point taken. Just so you and he know that you're stuck with me."
"We're not talking about a marriage," she said. "Just dating. Maybe dinner."
"Sans dancing."
"Dylan."
"Hey, for all I know, you dance with the guy and he'll feel her kick before I do."
"Why are you so stuck on this?"
"I missed seventeen weeks of her life, Bren. I need to know she isn't angry at me for it and until she gives me one little kick, it's gonna seem like she is."
"Just keep writing. I'll read it to her, and she'll react to prove to you she isn't mad."
"I doubt many guys would be willing to shave you like this," Dylan couldn't help adding.
"Good," said Brenda. "Then maybe that means they won't hide my razor."
Dylan almost begged Brenda to not fall for anyone else, but kept the words from streaming out of his mouth.
She was right. Whilst Brenda had been alone, pregnant, and in recovery from the fucking train, Dylan had entertained hordes of women.
Right or not, the contents of Dylan's stomach still ended up in the toilet following their shower.
Sick. He was sick.
Literally sick.
The fucking flu. He'd picked up the fucking flu, probably from someone in the shop.
David. He'd blame it on David.
David didn't have the flu, but that was beside the point.
The only nice thing about being sick was the care Brenda showed.
"Your fever went down." She glanced at the thermometer she had removed from underneath Dylan's tongue. "That's good. You had me worried for a bit."
"If I have a fever, it's because you're around," he said.
"You're relentless."
"You're gorgeous."
"You're delirious."
"Uh-uh," said Dylan. "You outshine the entirety of Hollywood, the British film industry, Bollywood, and every other film industry known to man."
"I think your fever is blurring your vision. I'm giving Violet Beauregarde a run for her money."
"You're nowhere near the size of a giant blueberry."
"Well, I feel like a giant blueberry."
"Blueberries are a superfood that's an excellent source of vitamin C. I bet if you get kissed by a blueberry, you get over the flu faster than Zeus throws lightning bolts."
"Like I said. Charmer." Brenda handed Dylan a box of saltine crackers. "How are you feeling?"
"About the same as the last time you asked, ten minutes ago."
Dylan inquired about the antenatal class they had scheduled for that evening, and was disappointed to learn that Brenda would still be attending with Valerie in the place where Dylan should have been.
"It's just one class," said Brenda. "You'll make up for it in the others."
"I fully blame this flu on Silver."
"You've said that."
"Well, I'm saying it again."
"You really ought to talk to him."
"Bren, Silver's the reason you were stuck behind that frickin' door."
"That's not fair. It wasn't David's fault I couldn't open the door."
"Maybe not, but it was Silver's fault for assuming I had hooked up with Val and causing you to run off. Walk off," said Dylan before Brenda could correct him.
"Well, can you blame him?" asked Brenda. "You're both mega hot, single people who used to date and you were both in the living room."
"We didn't date. I'm quite willing to lose the singlehood."
"You're gonna lose your voice if you don't rest it."
"Then you'll be able to do all the talking for me. I like that better, anyway."
"See, you say that now, but if I actually did all the talking for you, you'd want your voice back."
"I wouldn't be so sure about that." Dylan threw Brenda's knuckle against his forehead. "I could feel a bit better if you skipped the class and stayed in bed with me."
"You know I can't skip the class."
"Can't blame a guy for trying though, right?" Dylan rolled over into Brenda.
"I like this," she said, scraping her hand over his back. "Taking care of you. Having you rely on me. It's a nice change."
"That's what we do, Bren. Take care of each other," said Dylan, adding, "usually. Together, in sickness and in health. Tell Val I want copious notes."
"Tell her yourself," said Valerie from the doorway.
"How long have you been standing there?" asked Brenda.
"Enough to know how ridiculously cute you guys are," said Val. "And how terrible of a patient Dylan is."
"I think he's a very good patient," Brenda defended. "Even if he keeps trying to flirt with his carer."
"I think you'd make one hell of a sexy nurse," Dylan told her. "Val, I want -"
"Copious notes. Yeah, I heard," said Val. "You want me to record the class, too?"
"Could you?" asked Dylan.
"That won't be necessary," said Brenda.
"It's necessary if Val doodles more than she note takes."
"Val, doodle less than you note take." Brenda leant over to plant a speedy kiss to Dylan's cheek.
Speedy to the point that Dylan almost thought he had dreamt it.
"You could do my lips next," he suggested.
"And taste vomit? No thanks," Brenda shuddered. "I got enough of that in the first two trimesters."
"Ready, babe?" asked Val.
"In a rush, Val?" asked Dylan.
"Clare told us she thinks Kai's friend will be instructing," said Brenda as she slipped into her shoes. "Val's got a bit of a crush."
"Val has a crush?" Dylan's hand skimmed over Brenda's legs as he buckled her shoes. "Is it Ivan?"
Dylan had met Ivan Freberg when Dylan had gone in to support Brenda during a meeting with Clare's research team.
"Don't get me wrong; Ivan's cute, but it's not Ivan," said Val.
"Sofia?" Dylan guessed.
"The bride-to-be? She's fucking stunning, but not my type," said Val. "If you ignore the fact that her fiancée could literally whoop my ass if I even tried to make a move."
"Don't tell me it's Luca," Dylan groaned.
"I like Luca," said Brenda.
"And he likes you, Bren. A lot. That's the problem," said Dylan. "If Luca's instructing, then I insist on coming along."
"Don't be silly." Brenda pressed down on Dylan's shoulders until he returned to a resting position. "You'll stay in bed. Brandon will be here, and Steve's planning to come on over, too. You're too sick to be around a bunch of expectant parents."
"What's Luca doing instructing an antenatal class, anyway?" Dylan groused. "What does he know about antenatal?"
"Considering he's a pediatrician, I'd assume rather a lot," Brenda calmly replied.
"I'd rather have Ivan instruct."
"Ivan's a cognitive psychologist."
"And therefore much better to have on hand."
"But not to instruct an antenatal class."
"Don't worry, Dyl. One look at these legs and Luca will forget all about Bren." Valerie raised her leg above her head for emphasis in a move indicative of a trained gymnast.
"I don't know if I should be insulted by that," said Brenda.
"I'm pacifying your baby daddy," said Val.
"Now it's my turn to be insulted," said Dylan.
He tried to not let his feverish dreams become inundated by Luca König and his impossibly blue eyes swooping in on Dylan's family, but his dreams took on a mind of their own.
Dylan told himself that the sooner Brenda got other people out of her system, the sooner she would be ready to make a life with him.
He hoped so, anyway.
"No," said Dylan when he opened one eye and saw who stood in the doorway.
"Can we talk?" asked David. "I brought soup." He held up the cup as a peace treaty.
"You also gave me this flu," said Dylan, "and made me miss mine and Bren's first antenatal class."
"I couldn't've possibly given you the flu." David sat on a chair and set a paper bag on the bed.
"Who let you in?" asked Dylan as he grabbed for the soup.
"Brandon."
"That's because B doesn't know what you did."
"Val wasn't wearing any pants, and she was standing between your legs. What would you have thought in my situation?"
"Maybe that my friend wouldn't make a play for the girl I like when he's clearly got his eyes set on another who, you know, is carrying his kid, and is his greatest love."
"Alright, I'm sorry, but can you at least admit you don't have the best history when it comes to these things?"
"And you weren't drunk at all."
"But you still told the girls I was. Thanks."
"Maybe I was trying to help you keep your dignity, what little of it you have left."
"I just don't understand why Val keeps giving everyone else a chance, but doesn't bother to with me."
"Isn't it obvious?" said Dylan. "You probably scare the shit out of her."
"Are you saying I'm scary?"
"To Val? Yeah. You can break her more than anyone else can, and that fucking terrifies her."
"We still talking about me and Val?"
"Bren's talking about dating other people."
"Shit. Wow. I thought you guys were getting closer."
"We are getting closer, and that petrifies her."
"So we're both screwed."
"Pretty much."
Dylan and David lapsed into a silence, until Steve popped his head in with an assortment of pastries.
"You know I can't eat those," said Dylan.
"I know." Steve popped a ball of frosted dough into his mouth.
"Next time you talk to Clare, can you ask her to ask Kai to ask Luca to stay away from Bren?" asked Dylan. "But don't tell Clare I asked you that, and don't let it get back to Bren."
"I'm not talking to Clare," said a grim-faced Steve.
"You guys have a fight?" asked Dylan.
"Something like that," said Steve.
"Wanna talk about it?" asked David.
"Fuck no," said Steve. "Who's up for a movie marathon? Action only, of course. Romance, strictly forbidden. Brandon's making the popcorn."
"I can't have popcorn, either," said Dylan.
"Which is why it's perfect," said Steve. "We get all the treats, and you get to watch us eat them."
"I suddenly know how Bren feels when I eat seafood," said Dylan.
"Gives her another excuse to not kiss you," said Steve.
Dylan snatched a pastry off of Steve's napkin and threw it at Steve.
"Hey! No fair!" said Steve as he ducked. "I wasn't ready."
David wiped cream out of his hair with a scowl.
A solemn Brandon appeared.
"B? What's wrong?" asked Dylan.
"D, we've got a problem," said Brandon.
Dylan jerked up when he saw the unwanted visitor who stood behind Brandon.
"So, just to clarify," boomed the grating voice of Jim Walsh, "you invited my wife and my nephew out here, excluded me, and I come in to find that you're living with my daughter and my son?"
"Brenda didn't want you around," Dylan answered. "I was heeding her wishes, until such time as she changed her mind."
"My daughter is in no mindset to know what is good for her," said Jim, "otherwise you wouldn't be living with her."
"My relationship with Brenda is between us, Jim."
"Is that why you left her in London?" asked Jim. "Is that why when my daughter was injured on a train, you were nowhere to be found? In fact, I believe I heard you had returned to Beverly Hills while Brenda was on tour. You think you can waltz back into her life simply because she doesn't know how you hurt her?"
Brandon cut off his father, but before Brandon could speak himself, a more mellifluous voice permeated the air that filled Dylan with an instant comfort.
"I know exactly how he hurt me. Dylan has told me everything. He is sick with the flu, needs his rest, and I would like you to leave my house right this instant."
Jim pivoted at a ninety degree angle to see a fuming Brenda, standing with an equally upset Valerie.
"Back from class already, mi amor?" asked Dylan.
"It wasn't that long," said Brenda. "What the hell is he doing here?"
Jim gawked at Brenda's protruding stomach. "I think the better question is, were you planning to tell your mother and I about - about this?"
"You mean, my child?" said Brenda. "With Dylan? Why would I tell you anything? I don't know you, and the last time I saw you, you made an orderly cry."
"Emotions were running high that day," said Jim. "Brenda, whether or not you know me, I am your father. I raised you, I fed you, I clothed you, I paid for your schooling and all your tap lessons. I think you can show me a little respect."
"The same respect you're showing Dylan now?" asked Brenda drily.
"Maybe I should go over to Steve's," said Dylan.
"You aren't going anywhere," said Brenda. "But he is." She scowled at Jim. "I don't know why you are here, but you are not welcome in my home."
"This boy is a drug addict," said Jim. "An alcoholic who wastes away his fortune without checking scammers' backgrounds. He is not fit to be a father."
"According to you, I'm not fit to be a mother," said Brenda.
"I never said that," said Jim. "I didn't have any idea you were pregnant."
"And while I have been pregnant, you have said numerous times that I need to be fixed."
"Sweetheart, it is not natural for you to -"
"You heard her, Jim." Dylan moved to sit up against the headboard. "Brenda would like you to leave."
"You would keep me from my daughter and grandchild?" asked Jim. "I knew you were bad news from the moment you darkened my door, but this takes the cake."
"It's Bren's decision," said Dylan. "Bren?"
"Jim, she wants you to go," said Valerie. "Did Cindy send you out here?"
"Cindy doesn't know I'm here," said Jim. "I overheard her talking about her flight plans and arranged a flight for myself to the address she had written down. Valerie, don't tell me you, too, have fallen for Dylan's loom of lies all over again."
"And what, exactly, is Dylan's lie?" asked Brenda.
"That he cares for you," said Jim. "This imprudent, reckless boy has never truly cared for you. Had he been on the train with you instead of doing God only knows what in Beverly Hills, perhaps Shane would have lived."
"Out," said Brenda. "Get out!"
"Get out," Brandon echoed with greater emphasis.
Dylan leapt out of bed to gather Brenda to him. "Bren, please don't upset yourself," he worried.
"I want him to get the fuck out of our home," she said. Her stature quavered uncontrollably. "How dare he wish that you had been on the train in Shane's place?"
Dylan didn't tell her that he daily wished the same.
Dylan shielded Brenda's head and stomach as he told Jim to leave, then inwardly pleaded with the deities that the tension wouldn't cause Brenda to cramp.
"My daughter does not have all of her mental faculties and you have addictions, with a proclivity to taking off on a whim," said Jim. "If you think I will let you raise my grandchild -"
"Brenda is improving every day and I am fighting my addictions," said Dylan. "It's an ongoing battle, one I will continue to fight. We are no longer kids for you to control. We are both in our twenties. This is our life to figure out, not yours. I will ask you one more time to leave, and then I am notifying the authorities."
"Already done." Brandon pointed to his mobile.
"My own son is turning his back on his father?" asked Jim in disbelief.
"My own father is threatening to take away my niece from my little sister," said Brandon. "You either get out now, or I'll have the cops throw you out. Steve?"
Steve appeared more eager to toss out Jim than Dylan had expected.
"After everything I have done for all of you," said Jim. "My wife and I opened up our home to you, Steve."
"Brandon opened up his home to me," said Steve. "It just happened to be yours."
"Valerie, I have known you since you were an infant," said Jim. "Your father and I were close friends."
"You couldn't've been that close," said Val.
David moved to step behind Val who, just for a second, allowed David's hand to rest on her shoulder before she pushed it off.
"Here's how it's gonna be," said Brenda. "You either learn to respect Dylan and his place in my life, or all of them," she pointed to everyone in the room, "will make their choice. And it'll be Dylan, every time." She winced, and it caused Dylan's organs to plummet.
"Cramp?" he asked.
"No, but I think I need to rest," she said, leaning into him. "My head is swimming. All the colors are coming together. And the - the ceiling -"
"Is crashing," said Dylan as he threw a look of utter abhorrence at Jim.
"Take her to mine." David threw Dylan his keys.
"We'll deal with Jim," said Steve.
"Val?" asked Dylan. "Bren's in no condition to drive and my vision might blur on the road."
"C'mon." Val latched onto one side of Brenda as Dylan held the other.
"You'll regret this," Jim called out from behind them.
"What I regret, Jim," said Dylan as he turned, "is allowing you to make a decision for a seventeen-year-old boy that led to him making the second biggest mistake of his life and giving up on the girl of his dreams."
"What is he talking about?" asked Brandon. "James, what did you do?"
Dylan and Val led Brenda away to leave Jim to explain his previous threat.
Or to fabricate and turn the blame on Dylan.
Whichever.
Dylan didn't care which route Jim took.
All Dylan cared about was helping get Brenda to a place where the ceiling would no longer crash on her, and where his family could be swathed in peace.
He was sick of the obstacles that kept snaking between them.
Whether that was Luca König, Jim Walsh, a fucking FreightCorp train, or Dylan's own plethora of insecurities that he vowed to never again allow to control him.
-x
Source: Google
(Shout-out to KJ to express my continued gratitude and appreciation. I love that you're rereading already, and that you told me you are. It seemed to be yet another instance where the writers wrote shit, then didn't want to deal with it afterwards. Yes, Josh drugged Val, but Noah still slept with her and he is still a rapist for it. Val shouldn't've been nearly as friendly with him as she was. I think after David broke up with her again, Val just didn't care about anything.
Regarding Steve and Clare, I didn't have a clue this was the turn Steve's story would take, but it does make sense to me for why Clare completely disappeared off the map when she was so close with Donna [and, by default, Kelly; I never bought that they would have been close otherwise.] It always bugged me that storylines like that went to supportive characters like Susan, whilst barely touching the main characters, despite being discussed by the main characters as an option when Andrea and Kelly got pregnant. Poor Val, indeed! Val could've used a friend like Clare, so I'm glad you enjoy their dynamic as much as I enjoy writing it.)
Thanks a million! x
And Jason Priestley's eyes really are that blue.