a/n: This is a reposting, guys. It's up for good this time, as I've had a few people message me about it. Thanks for reading.

Nathan Scott was running frantically around his apartment doing some last minute packing for his flight. He was leaving in a few short hours for Florida; from there, he was leaving for a 10 day cruise. The vacation felt long overdue.

Basketball season had just ended, and as much as he loved playing the game he was thoroughly exhausted. He'd played hard all season; now it was time for a breather. He was in the middle of zipping his suitcase when Garth Brooks, More Than a Memory filled the air.

Nathan groaned. He tossed the clothes on his unmade bed aside looking for the stereo remote, but he couldn't seem to find it fast enough. Where the hell had he last seen it? He didn't know how the hell this song kept ending up on his stereo. It was the only song that made him think of his long gone wife. He hated the words; he hated the music; he hated everything the stupid song represented. He didn't even listen to country music, but no matter which station he put his radio on, this song seemed to end up on the playlist.

"Jackpot," Nathan said, when the remote finally appeared beneath a pair of New York Knicks boxers. He hit a button and immediately all surround sound stopped. Another button and the big screen television on his bedroom wall flickered on. He turned the television to one of his favorite news channels. It was just about the only thing he ever watched on television.

Nathan resumed his unorganized packing as he stuffed things into the top compartment on his suitcase, but he was interrupted a few minutes later when he heard his name. He grabbed his remote, and standing at the foot of his bed he focused all of his attention on the television.

"…NBA sensation Nathan Scott still hasn't signed a contract for next season. There's a bidding war for this talented player that is practically unprecedented…"

Nathan stood there grinning from ear to ear.

"…Mr. Scott has always said that he wouldn't sign for longer than one season at a time, not wanting to tie himself to one location for too long. Between the L.A. Lakers and the Charlotte Bobcats, Nathan has his choice of coasts. One has to wonder, what is Nathan Scott holding out for?"

"That's right, baby," Nathan said to himself. "Nathan Scott is playin' the game." He threw the remote back down on the bed and then, reaching into his nightstand drawer, he threw a box of condoms into his suitcase.

"In other news, Haley James Scott, no relation to Nathan Scott…"

That's what they think, Nathan thought to himself, searching for the remote again. He wanted the television off, and he wanted it off now. He didn't care what the hell Haley was up to. He was still desperately searching for it when the journalist's announcement stopped him in his tracks. His heartbeat accelerated with each word the woman spoke.

"…has been in a major car accident. After meeting an unknown man for lunch, Ms. Scott was leaving a restaurant when the paparazzi spotted her." Nathan moved slowly back to the foot of his bed, and breath caught in his throat he slowly sat down. "Apparently they were tailing her, and when she had to slam on her breaks to avoid hitting a pedestrian, the paparazzi rear-ended her, causing her car to slam into a nearby telephone pole. Her manager…"

Nathan's jaw began to tick when Peyton's face filled the screen. "At one-thirty this afternoon, my client and friend, Haley James Scott was in a horrific car accident after being relentlessly pursued by the paparazzi. She slammed on her breaks to miss a little boy who had wandered into the road and away from his mother. She was able to avoid hitting him. Unfortunately, she was unable to escape being hit. The car that was chasing her—at a dangerously high speed, I've been informed—rear-ended her and forced the front of her car into a telephone pole. The doctors have informed me that Ms. Scott is in critical condition." Nathan watched as Peyton, always one able to bury her emotions, choked up before the cameras. "They're unable to assure us at this time of whether or not she'll make it. Your prayers are very much needed and appreciated." She cleared her throat. "I won't be answering any questions at all regarding this matter. I will, however, keep you posted as the doctors keep me posted." Nathan watched her walk away from the camera and reached a hand out to his television. He had an insane urge to yell at Peyton to turn back around and give him more information.

Nathan slowly stood and forced himself to breathe in and out for several minutes, blinking the entire time, as if trying to push what he'd just heard out of his mind. He barely made it to the bathroom before he lost the contents of his stomach.

When he was done, he went into his bedroom to finish his packing. He had a flight to catch.

Nathan Scott strolled right past security and into the Intensive Care Unit of Cedars-Sinai Medical Center as if he owned the place. His ruse worked, as no one stopped him with any questions on the way in. He was stalking purposefully towards the nurse's station, when a blonde head in a room off the hallway caught his attention. He stopped in his tracks and turned around walking into what he assumed was the family room with a small refrigerator and coffee pot. "Where is she, Peyton?"

Peyton's head snapped up. "How in the hell did you get in here?" she demanded.

"Where is she?" Nathan thundered.

Peyton reached into her pocket and pulled out her cell phone. "If you don't leave, I'm calling security," she told him.

Nathan met her stare head on. "And I'll call the press," he said softly.

"And tell them what?" Peyton shot back.

"Everything," he threatened.

Peyton swallowed past the lump in her throat. "You wouldn't do that to Haley," she said, and then laughed bitterly. "Or to yourself."

"Don't try me, Peyton. Where is my wife?" he asked again, trying to reign in his temper.

"Oh, you mean the one you abandoned?"

"You're pissing me off, Peyton," he said, his voice rising again.

"Yeah? Welcome to my world," she threw back. Peyton tossed her coffee stirrer into the trash can and walked out of the small room, with Nathan hot on her heels. She turned around and he almost ran smack into her. "You need to prepare yourself, Nathan. It's not good."

"Peyton—"

She shook her head and softly placed a hand on his arm. "Prepare yourself," she warned him again, looking into his eyes as she desperately tried to convey in any way she could how serious this was.

Peyton could have said it a million times, but nothing could have equipped Nathan for what he saw when he walked into Haley's hospital room.

"Oh, my God," he whispered. Peyton didn't say a word when Nathan's body began to shake, only placed a hand on his arm when she saw a tear slide down his cheek. He shook her arm off as he practically sprinted from the room. He stopped when he reached the other side of the hallway, and had to fight the tears from falling. He didn't know how long he was there before Peyton appeared at his side.

"Nathan?" she said. "You OK?" she asked tenderly.

His head snapped up. "Are you kidding? I can't even look at my wife, Peyton."

"Stop calling her that," Peyton said.

"She is my wife," he reminded her.

"Only because you wouldn't sign the divorce papers," she shot back.

Nathan sighed deeply. "Do you really want to do this right now?" he asked.

"No," Peyton said, her voice cracking. "No, Nathan, I don't. I really need a friend right now." She felt Nathan put an arm around her shoulders and give her a reassuring squeeze. "Haley's like a sister to me" she said brokenly.

"I know, Peyt," Nathan said softly.

"It's like looking at my Mom," she admitted.

"Hey!" Nathan scolded gently. She lifted her eyes to his. "This is not gonna end the same way, Peyton," he promised.

"How do you know?" she asked.

"Because it can't," Nathan said forcefully.