This is my very brief version of each of the character's reactions following the end of 4x14...as yet, I haven't seen 4x15 so have no idea as to what will happen next in the show. However, for the purposes of this story, Peyton punches Brooke at the party, and all of the accounts end at this moment in time. I plan to use this as a prologue to a full length story focusing on Brooke, but who knows how that will turn out so I wanted to post this first anyway. Oh, and just as a warning, I love Brooke and Lucas as a couple, so these two may have some thoughts that Leyton fans might not agree with...

Haley

For a second, there is complete silence. And then, as the whispers grow louder, the image on the screen before me begins to register. Nathan. And Brooke. Nathan and Brooke. Together. I glance at her, not ready to look at my husband yet. She looks as stunned as I feel, her face pale as water drips from her wet hair onto the carpet. For a second, I succeed in blocking out the images as I wonder why she is so wet. I know it's not raining outside. And then I remember, Nathan told me he had rigged the sprinkler system to come on, hoping to surprise whichever of the guys happened to be outside at the time. Obviously it got Brooke instead. I shake my head imperceptibly, realising the state of Brooke's hair really isn't something I should be pondering right now, and as I do so my eyes catch on the damp spots on Nathan's shirt. Oh great. I have to get out of there, and so I push my way to the door, mumbling apologies to the people I bump into on the way, people who look at me with expressions of curiosity mixed with pity. It's the second of these that gets to me; I know, from Nathan's hair and obvious youthfulness, that the film was made before he and I were together, and I want to scream this at these people who are staring at me as I pass. Don't pity me I shout inside my head. Pity Peyton, it was her he cheated on! I want to scream these words aloud, but I don't. After all, I've already bitch-slapped Rachel tonight, any more anger and people will start to think these damn hormones have sent me crazy. Maybe they'd be right.

Finally I make it outside, and walk a few houses down the street before sitting down on the kerb. The shock has subsided now, and I'm not entirely sure how I feel, or even how I should feel. Anger I think, and disgust, but mostly I'm just tired of the jealousy that settles in the pit of my stomach every time I think of Nathan with another girl. Already I feel uncomfortable with Peyton whenever the subject of sex comes up because I know about her history with Nathan, but now Brooke too? Will this ever end, or has he screwed his way through every girl in the school? Bevin? Theresa? I sigh, knowing that I can't live like this, constantly wondering who else has seen my husband naked. If we were older, then maybe things would be different, but he married me at sixteen. Sixteen. At that age I was a virgin. So was Luke. I'm pretty sure Peyton had only slept with Nathan. And Brooke…well, that's where my argument falls apart. She was a self-confessed slut before she started dating Lucas. And yet I can't find it in myself to be mad at her. Or even at him, really, now the first flush of anger has begun to fade. Sighing, I pick myself up and start to head back inside, even smiling wryly as I contemplate the carnage that has no doubt ensued in my absence. I know I'll forgive him, maybe I already even have. But that doesn't stop it from hurting.

Nathan

I hear Brooke's horrified gasp and my eyes meet hers. I can't see my own face, but I know that if I could I would see the exact same mixture of horror, shame, and guilt that I can see on hers. Somewhere far below the emotions bubbling up on the surface of my mind a voice is shouting at me to turn the tape off, but my feet remain rooted to the floor. My eyes search for Haley's but she is watching Brooke, and I know from the stiff way she holds herself that she can't bring herself to look at me. Sighing, my eyes continue to roam the room, looking for a face that is showing neither excitement at the unfolding drama, nor hostility, but I can't find one until I lock gazes with my brother. I almost sigh in relief. Lucas. He won't be angry, sure he'll think I was a jackass, but that's hardly anything new. Everyone knows I was an ass before I met Haley. But then I stop; realising that the look Lucas is giving me is far from understanding. He looks…jealous. I pause to think about this for a second, anything is better then contemplating the situation before me, and it occurs to me that maybe my big brother isn't as over Brooke as he claims to be. I make a mental note to ask him about this later, although obviously not in the earshot of Peyton.

And then it hits me. Peyton. The girl I was dating when I slept with Brooke. The girl who is my brother's girlfriend and one of my best friends, Brooke's best friend, come to that. Or former best friend, I suppose, after all the Lucas drama. I groan inwardly, comprehending for the first time that this whole thing is going to extend much further than just Haley and I. Haley. I'm suddenly aware that she is no longer in the room and my heart aches. But then I hear a shout of anger from my right, and a yelp of fear from my left, and I force Haley from my mind for long enough to register the curly blonde forcing her way through the crowd and catching the scared-looking brunette with a fist. Chaos breaks out around me, and any grasp I had of the situation is gone.

Peyton

The first emotion that I'm aware of is of respite. Having burst into the room expecting to see myself appearing in a more pornographic version of a home movie, I actually breathe a sigh of relief as I realise that the girl Nathan is screwing isn't me. I don't understand how anyone made the mistake. This girl has dark hair and is pretty in a completely different way to me. I even smirk as I notice the size of the girl's breasts: definitely not me. And then I finally notice that the room is deathly silent, and I can feel people staring at me. My ears pick up a whispered conversation from the doorway. Oh my God, Nathan cheated on Haley? One girl whispers, and I feel a pang of sympathy for my friend. But no, the other girl answers, Peyton. I nod, understanding now why I am being watched, but I don't really feel anything. I have no interest in Nathan now, and I already knew he was a dick while we were together, so why is everyone so excited? I look back at the screen, hoping it will provide me with the answer, and it does. The girl is Brooke. My best friend, or at least, she was at the time. And the guy she's fucking was my boyfriend.

Bile rises in my throat as it dawns on me what this means. Brooke, the girl who had been with me through everything, had betrayed me. I feel weak and confused, my brain unable to process something so huge. I search the crowd for something to stabilise me, and my eyes catch Lucas's. For a split second, I get lost in his eyes, and I feel safe again, but then my brain begins working overtime, clicking things into place at a rate of knots. I remember last year, refusing to get involved with Lucas because our cheating had broken Brooke's heart. I remember Brooke slapping me on Haley and Nathan's wedding day because I told her I was in love with Lucas. I remember her telling me she couldn't be friends with someone who would try to steal her boyfriend. And I look back at the screen and watch as the girl who said all these things screws the guy who was my boyfriend. Anger courses through my body as I realise the extent of her hypocrisy, and I can no longer control myself. Screaming, I launch myself through the crowd, and the last conscious thought I have before the red mist settles in is of how glad I am that Derek taught me how to throw a decent punch.

Lucas

Nathan and Brooke. I can tell from the stunned silence around me that people are struggling to process the scene before them, checking the screen over and over to make sure they haven't made a mistake. But I know they haven't. I know the body of the girl in the movie better than I know my own. The body that, as I watch, my brother pushes back onto the bed and climbs on top of. I screw my eyes shut for a split second, praying that the images will disappear, but it's no use, and as I open them again I catch Nathan's eye. He looks lost, searching among the hostile crowd for a friendly face. But that can't be me, I'm too…I'm not sure what I am. I know if I want to be a writer I should be able to name emotions, and I also know that, in any other person I would label this feeling of disgust mixed with anger as jealousy. But that can't be right. Brooke and I are just friends, barely even that. So then why do I feel like killing my own brother for daring to touch Brooke in the way his on-screen image is doing? I refuse to believe that I could be jealous; I love Peyton, I'm sure of it.

Peyton. I stop analysing my own feelings and realise for a second what this must mean for her. From the images on the screen, and from the whispers of people around me I'm fairly certain that this tape was made whilst she was dating Nathan. I glance at her, and she looks stunned, as though she is struggling to grasp exactly what this means. She catches my eye, and I try to silently reassure her. I can't have succeeded though, as she pulls her gaze away after only a split second. Sighing, I turn back to the screen, but am forced to turn away again as a wave of lust overtakes me at the sight of Brooke's now naked breasts. Brooke. I can't see her from where I am standing, yet I am sure I know exactly what she is thinking: that no matter how hard she tries she will never be anything but a slut. I almost want to find her, to take her in my arms and tell her that that isn't true, but I don't because I know that is no longer my place. Instead, I turn my stare back to Peyton, who is looking angrier than I've ever seen her, and I realise that she has finally grasped the level of Brooke's hypocrisy. As Peyton launches herself forward, I instinctively begin to push my way through the crowd.

Brooke

A wave of nausea overcomes me as I catch sight of myself on the screen, instantly realising that this moment signals the rapid degeneration of my life as I know it. My eyes meet Nathan's and I know he is as horrified as I am, and yet neither of us moves to turn the tape off. Instead, I scan the room manically, desperately trying to read the expressions of the people who matter to me. I catch Haley's eye, and for a moment I am relieved: she doesn't look mad. And then I look again, and see the hurt and disappointment etched on her face, and I feel worse than ever. I sense Chase watching me, and I look up, knowing even before I meet his gaze that our relationship, if that's what it was, is over. I should have known that it couldn't last, that a nice guy like Chase wouldn't want to date the class whore. I turn away from him, and catch sight of myself on the screen, my naked body entwined with Nathan's as he moves on top of me. Sharp tears sting my eyes, and I will them away, determined not to let the gossips see how much I care.

Time appears to have stopped as I stand there, in a sea of people who are dissecting my life as though they actually know the real me. God, she's such a whore, the girl next to me whispers seemingly incredulously and I actually nod in agreement. Both Scott brothers? Another voice behind me joins the whispers, and I can detect the jealousy in her tones. I wonder who was better? Her friend giggles back, and for a second images of Lucas force their way into my head as I silently answer her question. Lucas. I long to find him, to explain, but I know that he doesn't need an explanation. Not because he loves me unconditionally, but because he just doesn't love me. Not in that way. Not in the way he loves Peyton. As the name of my former friend registers in my mind, it occurs to me that I might not be the only one who can answer the question of the Scott brothers' comparative sexual prowess, and bile rushes into my throat. I turn to run, before I embarrass myself further, but before I even take the first step a curly-haired blonde flies out of the crowd towards me, fists flailing. I hear myself cry out in fear, and then my mind finally switches off and I can no longer feel anything.