Title: Searching For Life

Disclaimer: Don't own Beverly Hills, 90210

Summary: Six years after the season finale, the people from Beverly Hills are leading very different lives. Dylan and Kelly left Beverly Hills for New York, where all of their problems seemed to evaporate. Now, six years later, those old problems are resurfacing for the worst, which causes Dylan to leave his new home, trying to find what happened to his life.

Prologue

The music pounded in the ears, the bass deafening; at the bar in the dim lights, groups of people had trails of cocaine and were sharing bills around. From the balcony above the dim blue lights, the alcohol, the dancing people, and the over-excited patrons, a man stood, leaning against the railing, in one hand a small glass of scotch, not drinking, just holding, almost as though he were smelling the pungent liquor.

From the bar below, any patrons looking up saw a man who really didn't care about the drugs, the probable deaths from overdoses, or the fact that the vodka was in short supply. Truth be known, he was bored; bored of this life, bored of New York, bored of waiting for his girlfriend.

Six years they'd been together; six years they'd managed to maintain a strong relationship; the move from Hollywood to the Big Apple one of the main contributors to their renewed bond. Yet still the same old issues were resurfacing, none more so than the drugs.

He tilted his head to see her blonde head against the bar counter, snapping up, and her hand instantly wiping her nose. He sighed; finally taking a sip of his scotch, leaving his position at the rail and heading into his office, the one room within the entire building were the heavy bass was non-existent. His office was his sanctuary, the one room he could escape.

He used to be like her, fixing his problems by escaping with drugs and alcohol, but then he got clean, got healthy and smiled, took a different perspective of life.

His bottom drawer he always kept closed and locked, only he knew of its contents, only he knew of the key. Sometimes he wondered why he kept his old yearbooks in a tightly secured drawer, sometimes he laughed about it. But it was his way of holding onto that small beam of hope that existed of life being fun-filled, an adventure.

That was high school.

He smiled at the pictures, one of him, Steve and Brandon; he missed them, but he would never admit it. Then there was one of his girlfriend and Brenda, how close they used to be. Then Brenda got the opportunity of her lifetime in London and they'd barely spoken since.

"What are you doing alone in here?" Her voice stunned him out of his pleasant silence, into hiding away the books, clicking the lock and hiding the key, all of which she giggled at weakly. "What are you hiding?" She walked over to him as he pocketed the key.

It was in these moments that he silently laughed at himself; why was he being so childish, looking at all his year books in secret? Were they all that bad? Sure his hair was almost as big as his ego, but then again whose wasn't? At least it wasn't a great ball of fluff like Andrea's was.

"You're missing out on all the fun." She smiled, walking not quite straight towards him.

"You're having enough fun for the two of us." He commented as she curled her arms around his neck, giving him a quick kiss. "Come on, I haven't seen you have fun in this place for ages." She moaned, swaying against him.

"Yeah well some one has to keep a level and straight head." He commented, escaping her grasp, retaking his seat at his desk and opening up the accounts book, becoming frustrated that the pounding beat was entering his escape.

"What's that supposed to mean?" She asked tilting her head, becoming serious.

"Nothing. You go back downstairs, have fun with your money, whilst I go over the books." He pointed her in the direction of the door.

"What's wrong with you?" She asked, becoming angry, the last thing he needed.

"Nothing's wrong."

"We bought this club together, to have fun, and I've only seen you have fun in it for the first month, ever since you've been a bore." She slapped her hand against his desk.

"You know what, Kel, you're absolutely right. I did have fun, then I realized that the books weren't going to do themselves. One of us has to be responsible." He stood, taking her by the waist and showing her to the door.

"You're not getting rid of me that easily." She responded to his body movements, making it as hard as possible for him to escort her out.

"Currently Kel, you're going to have a lot more fun downstairs with your lines than you are up here with me." Somehow he got her to the door, heaving her out, then clicking the door shut.

"Dylan!" She shouted once outside, earning a few heads to look upward, seeing her pounding against the door. "Dylan let me in!"

At first he thought he could handle her noise, but he couldn't. Instead grabbing the few things he had with him, including the year books from the drawer, and heading out the fire escape.

When Kelly suddenly remembered the existence of door handles she found the office empty. She stamped her foot in frustration, not noticing the fire escape door not closed completely, and headed downstairs out into the night.

"Dylan!" She screamed as she saw him walk out of an alley, his small back-pack over his shoulder, striding away from her not looking back.

Frustrated she ran after him, as she caught up with him her feet were in pain from running in her Jimmy Choo 4 inch heels.

"Where are you going?" She asked him as he continued to walk, not taking notice of her stumbling self.

"Home." He said simply.

"What, what about me, I'm just supposed to close up for myself?" She asked, aghast that she would have to speak with some of the employees.

"Yes." He said simply.

"I never close, you always do." She said, panic overcoming her as they turned a street corner.

"I know." He again said simply.

She stopped trotting beside him, just watching him stride away. "Dylan!" She screamed again. "What are you doing?" She shouted as he clicked the unlock button for his car, the orange lights flashing.

As he reached the driver's seat, he threw his backpack onto the passenger seat, before finally looking at her. "You know I thought I could do this, us again. But I just can't."

"Wait you cannot break-up with me." She shouted approaching his car.

He shrugged. "Oops. Bad decision by me, but I'm sticking with it." He commented sarcastically, taking a seat in his car and driving off as she continued to shout his name, well after her voice had become hoarse.

It was strange; all his time in New York he had considered himself to be happy. His life with Kelly was pure sailing and neither of them found their life paths returning to temptation, until recently at least. But now, in his apartment, he found himself skipping and singing songs he hadn't listened too in years as he grabbed a piece of bread, tossing pieces of it into his mouth, and grabbing the basic essentials, a change of clothes, his toothbrush and passport, before skipping out the door.

He didn't know where he was going, but he knew that a visit to D.C was in the works, given how many times Brandon had come to New York, and he or Kelly were yet to return the favour. He didn't know why he was dancing like Gene Kelly or Fred Astaire down the hallway to the elevator, just that he was, and he was tempted to break into a really bad rendition of 'Singin in the Rain' just like Kelly had made so famous in the same movie; but he thought better of it.

And for the first time he could remember, the music that was playing in the elevator didn't annoy him. Usually the sound of the operatic vocals and tune annoyed him because it was a complete paradox to all the people who resided within this apartment building.

As he walked out the door onto the street, he winked at Brian the door manager, who took the acknowledgement of existence from Dylan almost as though he was the timid and shy teenage girl who'd just been looked at by her crush.

Once outside the door, he stopped, dropped his things, looked up at the sky and spread his arms wide and high, being incredibly tempted to start screaming, before remembering that that was only possible in Los Angeles.

"Hey Moses you want a lift or not?" He heard a voice shout at him, the voice of a frustrated taxi driver on the street beside him.

Everything seemed so clean and bright as he was driven to JFK; it was all new, like he'd been living in this city for so long that he had been unable to truly appreciate its beauty. It was a completely surreal dream that he both wanted to wake up from, and never wake up at all.