This starts just after 6x03. There has been the odd small alteration to what took place in the first few episodes, but nothing major.
This is my first attempt at OTH fanfiction, and any suggestions for the story, or constructive criticism for improvement in my writing would be very much appreciated.
Hope you enjoy.
Much Love.
She had never needed saving.
Never needed another person to pick her up when she fell.
To bring her back when she was lost.
She'd had no-one to save her from the destructive force within herself that seemed to rear it's ugly head at the mere mention of her absent parents. And yet she had managed to become the best version of herself that she could be.
She'd had no-one to save her from her first broken heart and best friend's betrayal. And yet she pulled through, forgiving both and allowing herself to again, fall for a boy that destiny, fate, and what other meddling entities that existed, had somehow decided was not her's to fall for.
For a while she had been certain that she did need someone. Anyone. But the dissapointment and hurt of life, made her realise she was confusing what she thought was need with desire.
She wanted someone to pick her up when she fell. But she didn't need them to.
She wanted someone to look at her the way Nathan looked at Haley. But she didn't need them to.
She wanted her knight in shining armour. But she didn't need him.
She wanted someone to save her. But she didn't need them to.
She could do it perfectly fine by herself.
Until now.
For the first time in her twenty two years of life, Brooke Penelope Davis needed saving.
Because she was drowning.
Struggling, through a muddled flood of emotions that had been threatening to pull her under since the departure of Angie.
The sting of loss burned with an intensity that she had long since forgotten. Before that day, she could never have imagined that it was possible to hurt that much, all because of one little girl. Maybe it was because somewhere deep inside her, she had always known that she wasn't her little girl. Angie wasn't hers to hold, to cuddle...to love.
The robbery had been the final straw. The push over the edge into a swirling abyss of darkness that was her life.
She had been violated. Physically and emotionally.
She was no longer herself. The very thing's that had once defined her as a person, not only to the outside world but to herself, were tainted by the abusive touch of a world that just didn't seem to care.
Her thoughts were no longer her own. They were occupied by the ever present image of those wild eyes, burning through her.
The dimpled smile that could captivate not only her closest friends, but entire strangers in one breath taking second, was a rarity now.
Her compassion was fading out into a vague memory. In the midst of her friend's grief, she couldn't bring herself to feel sympathy. She felt nothing but coldness in the face of their sorrow.
She had never been one to back down. Her strength and courage, something to admire in someone so young in years. But she wasn't so sure she wanted to fight anymore.
It was never supposed to be this hard.
Life wasn't supposed to be like this.
It was like hearbreak. As if her heart was slowly crumbling within her and she had to force herself through the motions of daily life, brimming with a despair that her friends, at times, seemed all too oblivious to.
It felt as though she had been abandoned, betrayed by a force beyond her control. Almost as if some higher entity that she didn't quite believe in, was intent on breaking her.
And it didn't matter that she had overcome an empty childhood to become one of America's top fashion designers.
It didn't matter that Angie's leaving was always a given thing, an inevitable in a world full of surprises.
It didn't matter that there was nothing but sincerity behind her friend's concerned glances.
Because in the end, it still hurt.
Nathan's attempt at reaching out to his life-long friend had been fruitless. She had lost count of the number of times that her hand had trembled over the phone, in hopes that she could convince herself to call him. To take him up on his offer of help and support.
But she just couldn't do it.
Because if she did, she would be aknowledging the fact that she needed help. It would be admitting that she was in dire need of saving.
From life, from her mother and probably most importantly...from herself.
If there was one thing that Brooke didn't do, it was ask for help. In her confused and muddled state, she saw it as nothing but a show of weakness
And Brooke Davis wasn't weak.
It had been just three days since Q's funeral, and Brooke had gone into complete avoidance mode.
Peyton had moved out, and all Brooke had offered was a weak congratulations, hoping that the break in her voice had not alerted her best friend to the fact that inside she was pleading with her not to leave. But knowing someone as intimately as they did each other, meant that you could often read their feelings better than you could your own.
She knew Brooke was lying. She knew she was hurting.
Peyton had attempted only once to tempt the truth from her best friend, but the dullness that resided in Brooke's eyes had halted her. The spark was gone, the life that she had not so long ago emanated in radiant waves, had diminished, and it scared her.
So the conversation only went so far as Peyton asking her if 'there is something else going on' before Brooke had bolted, leaving only a fragile exclaimation of 'I'm fine' in her wake.
In a move that many would have deemed selfish, Peyton had allowed herself to be swept away by the excitement and passion of a rekindled love, and in the process had pushed Brooke to the back of her mind. Forgetting the number of times that the roles had been reversed; the times that Brooke had saved her.
In the rare moment that she had time to reflect without the presence of Lucas, either physically or mentally, Peyton had aknowledged the fact that she had let her best friend down. Maybe not on purpose, but still.
She had allowed life to get in the way of a relationship that meant more to her than she thought anyone would ever realise.
She had been selfish. Life had been selfish.
If you had asked Brooke Davis to name the one person she would have thought to be her shining light through the swirling darkness that was her life at present, she probably would have named Peyton. Maybe Lucas and quite possibly Haley or Nathan.
How wrong she would have been.
Never would she imagine that her light would come in the form of an angelic faced five year old boy.
Jamie had been the only one that had successfully managed to bring her out of her stupor, and it had been done inadvertently through an innocent admission on his behalf. She had avoided many a call and visits from her friend's, citing work or mother issues as excuses for the lack of time she had for them amd her godson.
But on the seventh day of her avoidance of her friends, young James Lucas Scott had taken matters into his own hands.
While under the care of his Nanny Deb, he had innocently expressed his desire to see his Aunt Brooke. With his entrancing blue eyes, she had been hard pressed to deny him, and despite her attempts at explaining his godmother's recent absence in terms of which he could understand, he had held firm.
Thus, with perfect timing, Deb had pulled up outside Clothes Over Bro's just as Brooke was shutting up.
Preoccupied with the nervous trembling of her hands as she locked up her store, all the while casting anxious glances to her left, Brooke had not seen them until she turned around.
It only took a second.
As soon as her eyes met his, he had ripped his hand from his grandmother's grasp, and leapt towards her.
In an instant, she had dropped the various necessities she had and opened her arms.
She had stood once again, cradling him against her, clinging to him with a desperation so heartbreaking, that the older woman had to turn away, afraid that the emotions welling within her would escape.
Despite the protesting ache of her muscles and the throbbing of her ribs, she held him against her in an embrace she wasn't quite sure she could break. The past week had been a dragging blur of daily life, and she had felt an ache that had nothing to do with the fading bruises that adorned her body, grow within her.
She missed them. All of them.
She was unaware of how long she stood there, stroking the soft head of blonde hair that rested against her shoulder, but after a while, he pulled back just far enough to see her face. In a gesture that caused the escape of welling tears, Jamie had reached his hands out and cupped her cheeks, his voice revealing an innocent sincerity that Brooke hadn't seen in a long time.
"I missed you, Aunt Brooke"
In that exact moment, the darkness that surrounded her, lightened.
There was no doubt that Jamie was to be her saving grace. A light that fought through the swirling blackness that was engulfing her. He would be the one to start her on the road to finding herself again. To finding who she was and what she would be.
But unbeknowst to Brooke, he would not be her only salvation.
That would come in the form of a teenage girl from Charlotte, and the life she was about to bring into the world.
