*I do not own Beverly Hills 90210 or any characters. For this chapter, we will go into a lengthy in depth dive into Dylan's character and touch on his background and struggles. It is lengthy, however I, as im sure others, have not watched the last seasons after 4 too much. I did watch them once years ago, but I was SO disappointed in how they'd unraveled all the characters by that point, especially Dylan's. After Shannen left it only got worse. When I rewatch the series, I can hardly make it through season 3 because of how they destroyed the dynamics of the show. This story is my attempt at fixing the mistakes the writers have already made with the series and his character, and trying to help Dylan find peace with the cards they dealt for him.

XX

Dylan sat at the corner table of his favorite cafe, his current reading material, the complete works of T.S. Eliot, lay flat on the table unopened. The cafe had a European feel, and the walls were lined with photos of live theatre performances, art installations from students at the college of Arts nearby, as well as bookshelves with his favorite classics. He didn't know what it was about this particular place that made him feel better. He had made a habit out of coming to this cafe whenever he felt himself getting overwhelmed with life, or when he needed simple comfort, an anchor to ground him. It happened far more often than it should, considering he didn't honestly have much going on. He was single. He had money. He didn't have much in the way of responsibility. So why did he always feel so weighed down, but also so empty at the same time?

Truth be told, Dylan had always considered himself the loner type. As far back as he can remember, he'd been on his own. His mother Iris left when he was 6. Yes it wasn't much of a choice for her, and yes they had reconnected when he was a teenager, but he will never get those years of abandonment back. They have a better relationship now, but the emotional damage of years past on his psyche is done.

His father, Jack McKay, was a difficult man. He often yelled at Dylan, sometimes resorting to actual physical blows. He was in no way a supportive parent, and he was often absent from his son's life. Dylan was convinced that if he hadn't been around, his father probably wouldn't have noticed either way. Jack McKay was also a known criminal. He had put Dylan through the wringer. He wasn't there for him as a kid, and when he was 16 years old, his father was arrested for tax evasion and things of the like. After Jack was released from prison, he and Dylan reconnected only briefly before he witnessed his father die in an explosion.

Dylan grieved him, despite everything they had been through together, he was still his father, and he took the loss especially difficult. Come to find out, years later, his father turned out to be alive and well. He was actually in witness protection courtesy of the FBI, with a whole new life. A whole new family. Dylan at that point was grown, he didn't need him anymore. He was happy Jack was alive but…the feeling of being abandoned by him yet again would never go away. It only further pushed the narrative in Dylan's that he was not wanted. "Man. No wonder I'm so screwed up," he thought to himself.

With everything that Dylan had been through in his life, it's no surprise that he was still alone. He was a runner. An escape artist. He would either physically run, traveling around the world to avoid his life, or he would use alcohol and drugs to drown everything out emotionally. He ran from everything. If something got too hard. If was something was going too well, he waited for the other shoe to drop. If something got too messy or complicated, too intense, he ran. It was his nature. It was in his nature to be that same scared 6 year old boy.

Dylan didn't have a real explanation for why he couldn't break free from his habit, he just knew he considered himself a weak man. A selfish man. He never stopped to think about what his running meant for others, he only knew that he had to go. He had to protect himself, because no one else was going to. No one had, not since her. But he couldn't have her, not anymore.

He'd gotten better in recent years. Dylan had been back in LA for 4 years now. The first two were bumpy. He had again fallen off the wagon, but he was the worse he'd ever been. He used drugs, mainly heroine, and alcohol heavily in the beginning. He wanted to get better, he did, but he felt as though his life was off of control. He needed them. He had to forget. Dylan couldn't face the damage that he had done to his own life. There was a time, a little over 4 years ago, when he had it all. Everything he had ever wanted, but of course in true McKay fashion, he ruined it. Things got overwhelming, and he ran. Like he always does.

Dylan thought about how he spent the first two years back in Beverly Hills, trying to get Kelly Taylor back. He really thought that was what he wanted at the time. He truly believed that he could be what Kelly needed now, and he'd convinced himself that she was what he needed too. Who he wanted. But that's the other thing about Dylan McKay, he's an excellent liar. Yes, he lies to others, but more than that, he lies to himself. He hides behind vague statements, and partial truths. He lies by omission, and gives misleading information in an attempt to mask that it's an actual lie. But in the end it's all the same, the untruths build until he is convinced. He's a master at hiding the truth, especially from himself.

Dylan did have a job, even though he didn't really need to work. It was just something that he loved to do, and he'd never been keen on the idea of simply living off of his father's money. He had recently started working for a publishing house, where he would read manuscripts and pass on any that he felt were worth it to his editor. Dylan didn't want to be an editor himself, he just enjoyed the reading aspect, and discovering new worlds written by talented writers. He'd done it anyway, so he may as well get paid for it. He'd always been passionate about romantic poetry, he loved writing himself as well. This career choice seemed a good way to keep himself busy, involved, and engaged with the art of literature.

Dylan was also very involved as an Environmental Activist with a focus on decreasing pollution in the water. He was passionate about the ocean, he always had been. He grew up in the water. Swimming, surfing, jet skiing. It was his escape, his second home when his home life fell apart. He found peace there. Dylan hadn't been able to protect his true home. With her. So if he did nothing else, he would try to protect this one. He participated in dives to clean the water, funded several programs around the city, and helped to organize events and fundraisers in an attempt to raise awareness.

Dylan had been sober for several years now. His life finally wasn't falling apart anymore. In fact, from the outsiders perspective, his life was probably picture perfect. The elusive millionaire bachelor activist Dylan McKay. Involved, rich, intelligent, suave, status that allowed him invite to anywhere in the city, and to call a spade a spade, he was sexy. He could have his pick of women. His life should make him happy, it was enough to be fulfilling for anyone, and yet something was still missing. Dylan tried to think back to a time where he felt truly happy, and whole, full, and loved. He knew exactly when it was. But no. No he couldn't let his mind go there.

Dylan took a deep breath, and finally opened the book that lay flat on the table as the waitress brought him his black coffee. He sat and read for what seemed like hours, trying his hardest to kill time before he had to go back to his own house, and be alone some more.

Truthfully, he didn't have to live life this way. Dylan was what a lot of people considered good looking. He was tall, lean, dark wavy brown hair, intense brown eyes. He knew that if he wanted companionship, he could easily go out and search for it, and maybe he would meet someone that would pique his interest. But he didn't want that. Dylan didn't want to make anymore false promises to any woman when he knew that he wasn't the person that could give them what they wanted, what they probably deserved. There was only one woman he would ever promise himself to fully, but he'd destroyed any chance of that. And now, he just wasn't interested, the occasional hook-up is the only interaction he'd allowed himself.

Dylan took the last sip of coffee remaining in his mug, and closed his book. He'd killed as much time as he could here. Gathering his belongings, he moved toward the exit. As he stepped through the door to move outside, he felt something. A change in the air. It was a buzzing feeling inside his body, a soft vibration in his bones, a shift in the energy surrounding him. It felt foreign, but also intensely familiar, he just couldn't place it.

Dylan tried to push the feeling aside, but as he stepped out into the street and started to make his way toward his car, his eye caught something that made his breath catch in his throat. Across the street, as people walked by blocking his view, walking in front of his eye line, he noticed a petite brunette. Long dark tresses flowed down her back. The woman was facing away from him, but he could see from the short sleeve shirt she was wearing that her arms, her skin, was fair.

Dylan steadied himself with a deep shaky breath, and then started to walk toward the brunette. He'd made the decision unconsciously, legs moving as if gravity itself were pulling him to that spot. People were weaving in front of him as he pushed his way through, staring anxiously, willing her to turn around so he could see her face. As he moved through the crowd, getting closer to her, the buzz he felt in the atmosphere grew. His pulse was racing, heart beat quickening with a familiar flutter. Butterflies swarmed his stomach. He hasn't felt this since…

Flash

"Rimbaud, Baudelaire. They were bums to you know. They know you gotta live it before you can write it"

"You're the only guy I know who knows who Rimbaud and Baudelaire are."

"Who?" She lets out a beautiful laugh that makes his world seem lighter. God he's missed that sound.

XX

"I've seen that look before."

"It's the same one you have."

Flash

"I miss you, and I needed you. What we've got is more than just physical"

"I'm not here because of that. I never was. I'm here because I love you.

"I love you too"

Flash

"i'll never forget this night as long as I live."

"Mmm, me niether."

"Let's dance like this all night."

"Well, not all night." Dylan says flirty as he goes in for a fierce kiss and spins her."

Flash

"I loved you more than I ever thought I could love anybody, maybe that was the problem"

Dylan's mind is overrun with a montage of memories of her. Every moment they've shared together. He's overwhelmed with emotion, emotions he's tried hard to squash down for years. But this feeling, he knows it's her. And now he remembers. He remembers everything. The way she feels in his arms, the smell of her skin, the touch of her lips. How she consumes him. He can't think. He can't breathe. It's her. It has to be.

Hope fills him as he moves closer to her, attempting to cross the busy street, he struggles to keep his eyes on her. Turn around. Please, turn around. But she never does. Dylan makes his way across the street to where he saw the petite brunette that reminded him so much of the love of his life. But by the time he gets there, she's already gone.

Dylan sighs and drops his head. Was it real? Could it have really been her? He hasn't seen her in years. But he would recognize her anywhere. He would recognize that feeling anywhere. The way the air around him erupts into electricity when she's near him. The shape of her face. The curve of her body. He's memorized every inch of her. It was her, it had to be. He walked down the sidewalk frantically, trying to get another glimpse of her, but it was too late. She was gone. Dylan felt empty inside again. As empty as he'd felt the last time he'd said goodbye to Brenda Walsh.

*Eek. Now that we know a little more about our character's current lives, let's get into the good stuff! Was it Brenda? Dylan's imagination running wild? What do you think?!

Hopefully you'll start to enjoy the direction more once the story really starts unfolding. Also, sorry if not all the details of Dylan's past are 100% accurate to canon episodes. I did do extensive research and remembered quite a bit, BUT i haven't watched seasons 5-10 in forever because I really can't stomach them. :)