A/N: Hey guys; this is my new story. I've been formulating this one in my mind for a while now and I'm uber excited about it. It's a Baley friendship centric. Final ships for those too have yet to be determined but I'm leaning towards Brucas and Naley. But don't hold me to that. I have a tendency to chance my mind. Anyway, this is full of angst and drama and I hope you like it. So enjoy and leave me lots and lots of love. Oh and I already have the next chapter written and it dives more into Haley's side of the story.
Drowning
34 C
She's had them since she was fifteen. Seemingly overnight they were there and people noticed. Her back noticed. All her pre-pubescent bras noticed. Coupled with her dimpled smile and radiant personality she was definitely something to be had. All the guys wanted her; and most of them did. All the girls wanted to be her; and all of them failed. They were the only good thing her mother ever gave her other than a bitchy attitude. God, did Brooke Davis love her breasts.
Winking at herself in the mirror, she adjusted her strapless dress so that her ample cleavage was showing just a bit more. Pushing her slightly curled raven hair off her exposed shoulders she misted a small amount of perfume on herself. The dress was red and satin and it felt divine against her creamy skin. The short length and bare back left little to the imagination but that was just what she was aiming for. She craved the attention, basked in its glory and never let guilt over it seep in for a second.
"If you adjust that dress any more babe, your breasts are going to need their own limo." Her beau of four years teased, walking into their bathroom as he strapped on his expensive watch. He came up behind her, slipping his hands around her petite waist, thumbing the fabric of her dress. His fingers made his way up to the top of her garb, dancing along her cleavage. "You know, we really shouldn't have to share a limo with the Martians do we?"
"You'll do good to keep your hands to yourself mister." She scolded, swatting at his hand and walking to her vanity. Taking a seat she began to touch up the makeup surrounding her hazel eyes. "The dress is a one of a kind, especially made for me and I refuse to have you ruin it with your roaming hands."
Giving him a pointed look, he threw his hands up in the air. "Baby, I would do no such thing."
"We're going to be late." She frowned, glancing at the clock. Throwing her makeup in her matching satin clutch, she got up and walked to him, straightening out his tie. Reaching up, she kissed him softly, unable to stop the slight fluttering in her stomach just hearing his sexy Australian accent. "Do you love me Andy?"
She had lost track of how many times she had asked him the very same question. She always felt vulnerable and stupid, but the words always stumbled out of her mouth. It was just something she prayed for that when the next time she asked, it would be different. Every time was the same though; his answer never deviated. It was always a lie and yet she would always smile and nod and kiss him happily, reciprocating the same answer. Only she meant every word.
"We're going to be late."
Now, he couldn't even lie to her.
X-x-X
"Mmm…"
Whatever it was, it smelt almost celestial. Like ambrosia for the gods, only she was positive it was coming from her kitchen. Letting her eyes flutter open, she didn't move her head; just allowed her cheek to rest on the expensive Egyptian cotton covering her bed. She smiled softly when her eyes rested on the small bursts of red scattered out in front of her. Before she could help it, her fingers were grazing the velvet texture of one of the petals and bringing it to her nose to smell.
Not even she could deny their gorgeous scent.
Pushing herself up, she wrapped the lone sheet around her naked body and stepped out of the bed. She padded over to the French doors, her eyes grazing over the city skyline before her. Years before, in high school, a rock band could not have forced her up until well after the sun had risen. Now, in her adult life, she relished the early mornings; the sunlight streaming in, the smell of coffee brewing, and the chance for yet another opportunity to live her life.
She smelt him before she he could even touched her. At thirty, he was six years her senior. He was successful and wealthy and handsome and everything she could possibly want from a man. He took care of her and was an excellent provider. They had met in college her sophomore year. The ambitious and bight eyed fashion designer she was then was fascinated by her business professor. The odds and ends of the rest of it was history. They fell in love.
Or at least she did.
Now, a room three doors down from their bedroom on the right was in shambles. Shortly after moving in, he had surprised her with it; a room completely devoted to her. It had lasted a few months before she stopped designing her own clothes and started wearing some one else's. That was two years ago. Luxurious fabrics with bold prints lie strewn across the floor. Drawings half finished lie scattered across her draft table. Her very dream rested abandoned in her heart.
It wasn't something he asked, or demanded, or encouraged. But it wasn't something he questioned, or prodded about, or encouraged not to do. The duty of being his simply fell in the way of the duty of being herself. It wasn't an option but at the same time it was her choice. Her very own diploma was neatly tucked away in a drawer collecting dust; completely useless.
"What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?" he questioned, his hand running the length of her hair.
"The petals were really sweet." She smiled as he kissed her shoulder. "They're pretty."
"I thought you might like them." He winked, grabbing her robe off the bed and placing it around her. "Now, darling, I want you to come into the kitchen. My cooking skills have yet to fail me, and I'm sure I won't disappoint you in my latest concoction."
"Well lead the way sir." She giggled, latching on to extended hand. "Because whatever it is, I'll eat sight unseen because it smells delicious. And I'm totally starving."
"I begged for dessert last night." He flirted, nuzzling her neck as they entered the kitchen. "That dress was to die for."
"I hardly think that your business partners would have appreciated you having me for dessert on the table in front of them." She pointed out, sitting down at the table as he pulled out her chair.
"Well it may not be their bloody bowl of rice but that's only because their wives are dogs." He spit out, and she kinked up an eyebrow in surprise. "What?"
"You're sexy when you speak dirty Australian." She rasped, leaning over to kiss him passionately. "Mmm…how about dessert before breakfast?"
X-x-X
"How's my booger butt?"
"Brooke, stop calling her that."
"Just because she's your daughter doesn't mean anything Haley. She's still my goddaughter and she loves her nickname." Brooke pressed the phone further into the crook of her neck as she rummaged through a boutique rack. "So how is she?"
"Adjusting." Haley sighed, glancing over at her young daughter playing with her toys. "The move was rough and she had to change pre schools. She wasn't exactly thrilled about that."
"And how's her mommy?" Brooke prodded, curious to know how her best friend was really doing. "Sweetie, I know I'm 3000 miles away but just pretend I'm not in LA and that I'm right beside you in Tree Hill handing you a tissue."
"Some days are better than others." Haley admitted, clipping out another coupon from the paper in front of her. "And for your information, I haven't cried in over a week."
"I was thinking I'd come visit you two." Brooke announced, unsure of where it actually come from. She hadn't been thinking about it and she was positive that it was something Andy wouldn't exactly be thrilled about. "I miss you Hales and there's no reason for me not to be with you. The past few months have been horrible. I should've been there."
"Cookie, I'm fine." Haley assured her, wondering all the same if she really was. "This is for the best. It's rough now, but I know it'll get better. Now what about you? How's Andy?"
Brooke paused as she handed the clerk his credit card with her name on it. "Fantastic."
X-x-X
Asshole.
As if she wasn't well aware of the fact that all of his friends had wives, who in fact, did not look like dogs, but he had to practically throw it up in her face. Yes, she knew she was relatively young. Yes, she knew that she didn't exactly fit in. But did he really have to make it a point to make it so obvious that she was just his girlfriend. Trophy perhaps? She wasn't exactly sure but the foolish side of her heart didn't always overpower the sanity of her mind.
It wouldn't last.
She knew it. Down to the very pits of her stomach; she knew. Or maybe it would. Because she was young and she was pretty and she was a nice ornament decorating his arm. As a bonus, she actually was sophisticated and smart and quite worldly. Placing her brush down, her hand swept over the bare finger on her left hand. When did the world she dreamt of become such a distance blur?
Her hair wasn't doing right. The manicure she had gotten today didn't turn out like she had expected. She wiped at her eyes. The color of her eye shadow was all wrong. The dress; it hugged all her curves the wrong way. The heels were killing her feet. They were the wrong color anyway. Blowing out her breath, she pushed herself away from the vanity and began stripping herself of the garments on her. In an instant she was left in nothing more than her birthday suit and stepping in the shower.
He would probably be furious. She didn't give a damn. Pretending to be his ideal trophy wife around his partners was not something she was up to this evening. Allowing the hot water to run over her hair, forcing out the curls her dresser had spent hours perfecting; she wondered when her life became so utterly meaningless. When her days stopped being filled of doing things that fulfilled her and were replaced with doing things so mundane and ordinary.
Reaching for the soap, she lathered up her washcloth and started with her face. All the makeup and goop that helped her look flawless came off in a just a few quick scrubs. Good riddance, she thought as she rinsed it off and began on the rest of her body. Her breasts were next; her hands rubbing around the curvature of them as they rested on her chest. Lifting her arm up, her hand moved to the side and froze. Forcing her fingers to move, the lump in her throat suddenly felt a lot bigger than the lump she was feeling on her breast.
The soap dropped to the floor of the shower and her hand clutched the top of the shower door for support. As much as she told herself to move her hand away from the lump the more it stayed. Tears prickled the back of her eyes as she stared down at the swirling waters around her feet. The world had seemingly stopped for the moment. Her legs went weak, her hand removed itself from her breast and reached out for the other wall to bear her weight.
Vaguely, she felt the water go cold. Her whole body appeared to go numb. After what seemed like a small eternity, she let her petite frame sink to the floor, her hands grasping and the tears flowing. So many thoughts, too many, flew threw her mind so fast that she didn't have time to process any of them. She tried to tell herself not to panic, to think rational but they fell on deaf ears. Before she could stop herself she was on her hands and knees retching into the drain.
This wasn't happening.
X-x-X
July 22nd, 1983
The day she was born. Nothing magical transpired; nobody important died or did anything great. After torturing her mother with eighteen hours of labor, the doctors finally had to go in and get her because Brooke Davis was not ready to make her entrance. She was born three minutes before midnight at Tree Hill Memorial hospital. Three minutes away from being a born under a different star and a different horoscope.
Cancer.
The sign Cancer is symbolized by the Crab. Your sign's element is Water. Cancer is ruled by the Moon.You are emotional, intuitive, sympathetic and moody. You enjoy shopping and visiting with friends. Cancer is sentimental, sensitive, and needs to have a sense of security. Cancer may be interested in politics even if it's only on the local level. You tend to over protect what is yours. Cancer is intensely romantic and has a vivid imagination. Your home and family are very important to you. You can be cruel, grasping, weak, possessive, domineering, timid, and lazy and tend toward brooding and cynicism.
The irony of it all didn't escape her. God; well she never really believed in him but if she had she was sure that he had one sick sense of humor. Now as she sat in a comfortable leather chair, fiddling with her fingers, and waiting for probably the most important news in her entire life she was waiting for punch line. After so many years of living a life she didn't truly desire, any chance of living at all was about to be snatched away from her grasp.
"Okay." Brooke turned around and her chair as the doctor slipped into the office, shutting the door quietly behind her. Her eyes followed the vivacious red head as she stepped to her desk and took a seat; opening a yellow folder and spreading its contents out in front of her. The young doctor let out a small sigh and clasped her hands in front of her on the desk, looking Brooke directly in the eye. "Brooke."
She didn't even have to say it. "Rach, it's okay." Brooke nodded, chocking back the few tears threatening to fall. Her doctor, Rachel Gatina, an old and dear friend, looked as if she was struggling to do the same. "What do we do now?"
Her voice sounded foreign and strange to her. It was hoarse and far more raspy than usual. But it was taking everything in her not to cry, not to break down, and not completely scream until it all just went away. She was so young. She had been healthy her entire life. Her breasts; they were perfect. She was perfect. Only now, a horrible and evasive thing was invading her body trying desperately to rid her of it all.
Rachel had spent so many hours training how to do this. She had spent countless times actually putting it into practice. But seeing someone, not much younger than herself, someone so full of life, and that person actually being someone she truly cared about, left her utterly speechless. She didn't want to be the one to crush her; she didn't want to be this person at all. She just wanted to be the friend to the broken woman in front of her.
Brooke listened earnestly as she was told the various options and plans of treatment. Glancing to her right, her heart simply ached more at the way he was looking than the way she felt at the moment. She was literally dying at that very moment and all Andy could do was look on stoically, nodding his head when appropriate. And even though, when she reached for his hand, he curled his fingers around hers, she felt no warmth from his contact.
"I have to tell you Brooke that our personal relationship can't cloud this too much." Rachel continued, brushing some of her locks out of her face. "I'm going to tell you what I would recommend to anyone in this situation and I think that it would be what's best for you in the long run."
Brooke knew Rachel meant well. The two had met a few years back, fighting over a particular garment they had both eyed in an expensive boutique downtown. They had both ended up with black eyes and half a dress but they had bonded. They had fought more times than she could count, and way more times than they had gotten along but it was a friendship and a bond that both desperately clung to. Now, Brooke needed her more than ever.
As Rachel said her next words, Brooke couldn't help but stare at the man next to her. The man she knew she had just lost for good.
"I think you should have a double mastectomy."