This is just an idea that's been stuck in my head for the past....two months, or so. Since I suck at multi-chapter fics, I figured I'll just stick to one or two shots until I finish MSL. For those who are frustrated with me, firstly, I'm sorry, and secondly, you don't need to worry about me taking forever to update this fic because it's only going to be two chapters. It was originally a one shot but it went well over the 15000 word mark and I figured most of you would get tired by then. lol It's not my best work but, eh.

Anyways, please enjoy and review.

Disclaimer: I don't own One Tree Hill. Besides seasons 1-3, I'm insulted you would think I could write such crap.

XX

I needed you more, when you wanted us less. -- Glycerine

Lucas sighs. Today made it official: someone up there hated him with a passion and never ever, ever wanted him to be happy. He'd somehow pissed off some all powerful, vengeful higher authority early on in his life, and had been paying for it for almost half a decade. He gulps another shot of the heaviest liquor he could order and tries to drown away images of an unconscious Peyton lying in the hospital bed he'd left her in hours before. He knew he was being selfish; he should be there with her, willing her and his unborn child to stay alive so they could start their life together. But his fear of losing them keeps him away, and that increases his self-loathing, which makes him drink, which keeps him away.

One pointless, vicious cycle: that's all his life has ever been.

"Vodka tonic." A scratchy voice echoes from behind him. Brooke Davis appears at his side, taking the seat next to him at the bar. She picks up the shot presented to her and downs it in one gulp. "Another." She orders, still not formally acknowledging his presence. They sit in comfortable silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts and drowning burning liquor with each passing moment.

Brooke sighs. And Lucas knows she's gotten tired of waiting for him to speak.

"So, Peyton called from the hospital," was her way of greeting. Lucas doesn't seem to hear her. He slams his empty cup back on the counter.

"Hit me." He says, sliding the empty cup towards the bartender for the 12th time that night. Brooke sighs and looks around the dimly lit bar they currently occupied.

"Why this place?" she asks after a few minutes, Lucas twists his head to the side, never really looking at her.

"Tric is her place." He says pointedly, shrugging as he waits to be served.

"Of course." She doesn't push it further. It was probably a coincidence that out of all the bars in Tree Hill he ends up in the one where they had their first date. It looked exactly the same as it did in their 11th grade, she realizes. A smile sneaks on her lips and she looks at her friend playfully.

"Tell me you used your Henry I.D.?"

Lucas snorts out the sip of beer he'd just drunk. "Oh, man…I haven't used that ID in what? Almost 2 years now?"

Brooke giggles, a look of surprise on her features. "You still have it?" Lucas nods.

"Used it every time I needed to get into a club. I even used it on the eve of my 21st birthday, just for kicks." Brooke laughs and he smiles, they lock eyes for a moment and Lucas almost forgets all his worries and pain. Almost.

Her eyes twinkle in delight. She holds up a finger, signaling him to wait before she bends down and takes something out of her purse seated on the bench next to her.

A moment later she holds up her accompanying fake I.D., identifying one 21 year old Italian-born Gretchen. Lucas takes a sip of his beer and holds in his laughter. He looks so much like his 16 year old self that Brooke struggles to curb her shocked gasps.

With a wide grin on his face, he pulls out his wallet from his back pocket and hands her Henry's I.D. Brooke gasps and grabs it from his hands to take a better look, as though not believing her eyes.

"I can't believe you keep this with you!"

"'Course I do. I had good times with that card." She smiles widely at him and nods.

"Who thought this is where we'd end up, huh?" She giggles absentmindedly. "Me the designer of a multi-million dollar line, you a husband and father to be." She smiles at the card fondly, reminiscing about the times of old where life was just so much easier. She looks up just in time to catch Lucas' smile fall, his entire demeanor change. His body slumps over the bar and he's gulping his beer so fast that it doesn't look like he's taking the time to breathe. Brooke sighs and slides the card back over to him. She puts her card back in the same compartment of her wallet she's always kept it in. She orders herself a drink and they're engulfed in silence.

She's waiting for him to start the conversation again, he realizes. He sees her fidget out of the corner of his eyes and it almost makes him smirk. Patience has never been her strong point.

"So..." she bites her lips and frowns, watching him out of the corner of her eyes. The bartender serves him another drink, and by that time she'd lost count of how many he'd had. She declines another drink. One of them needs to be sober to get through this.

"Julian left for Las Vegas," is what she manages to get out. Immediately, she cringes. Here's a guy who is living the very real possibility of losing the love of his life and his first child, and the only thing she can do is complain to him over losing a guy that she'd barely known for a month. How self-centred can you get?

"I'm sorry." She looks up and is shocked to find him facing her, eyes full of sympathy and understanding. The new order of hard liquor stands forgotten.

Immediately, she relaxes. Her eyes soften and she smiles a small smile in thanks before looking back at her fiddling thumbs. She shrugs slightly, avoiding eye contact.

"It's okay," she says softly. Lucas knows it isn't. "Besides, how tacky would it be if the two left-overs of the Lucas and Peyton love saga hooked up?" she laughs, but immediately stops at Lucas' hard look. In a moment, he looks away, almost ashamed. He picks up his forgotten drink.

"No. Come on, let's just get you home." As gentle as her voice, she puts her hands under his arm and nudges him off his seat. He could easily deflect her, could push her away with the simple shrug of his shoulders, but he allows himself to be guided by her.

B&L

Brooke stumbles under Lucas' weight. He's really not as drunk as he'd like to be, but he's just so emotionally exhausted to keep himself up. So he does what he's always done, and leans on her for support. As always, she lets him.

They struggle to get through his back door. She hasn't done this in years, but she still knew the tricks to getting the locks to his door while...severely distracted.

"Okay, Scott." She grunts as she shoves him off of her and onto the bed. She doesn't bother being gentle, as her back was killing her from the walk from the bar.

"I'll go make you some coffee."

She leaves him lying on his bed, face turned upwards, staring at the white ceiling. His eyesight is blurred, his head is aching, and yet, he welcomes the feeling. It distracts him from the overwhelming fear that's gripped his heart as soon as the doctor told him the dangers of the pregnancy. He welcomes the pain at the expense of the thought of losing his unborn child, who he already loves so much. He basks in the dizziness, the confusion, instead of thinking of the possibility of once again losing a chance to have the family he so desperately craves; once again having his heart broken as it has so many times. And if that happens....if this didn't work—he knows he won't make it.

Brooke returns and hands him a cup of coffee. He starts to bring it to his mouth, when she notices his hesitation to take a sip. She smirks.

"Don't worry. Instructions were on the back." He laughs and takes a sip. It isn't bad, but he cringes in disgust for show. She swats him.

"Oh shut up. I'm a fashion designer not a fricken office assistant," she grumbles. Lucas smiles at her. They stay quiet for a little while longer, each sipping the hot coffee that was so bitter it killed his buzz. Lucas idly wonders how Brooke had managed to keep quiet for so long tonight. If he knew her at all, he was sure that she had a million questions bubbling in her over-imaginative head, bursting to spill. He counts the minutes tick by as he watches her try to hold herself together. She refused to look at him; pretending to admire his room and biting the inside of her cheek to keep from yelling at him. She doesn't want to push him, he realizes. Brooke's always been about letting people come to her at their own pace. It's the way she liked it, and she gave everyone else the same courtesy.

She looks around his room, realizing how much it's changed since high school until her eyes land on a picture of him, Nathan, Haley and Jamie gathered together on the beach enjoying the sun. Jamie was just two at the time. He watches her eyes soften at the bright smiles that graced their faces, captured forever in the photograph. She looks angelic, maternal—like she could heal all wounds with a simple touch. It reminds Lucas of the time she told him she wanted to have a baby. He'd been so shocked then, scared even. The idea of Brooke having a baby alone, without someone beside her—without him, his subconscious stubbornly supplies—it wasn't right. Of course, he wasn't thinking about Brooke that way anymore. Their ship had sailed long ago. More like sank, he thinks, after failing to survive a fucking tidal wave on rocky waters that lead them over a water fall. He pulls back from bitter thoughts to concentrate on her longing features. She picks up the picture and looks down at it; her eyes almost tear up as she slides her fingers across Jamie's beaming smile.

"I should have been here then," she says absentmindedly. And Lucas is sure she forgot he was even in the room.

"What?" Her startled expression confirms his suspicious. Immediately, she looks away and frowns, eyes darting around the room in a way that tells him she's trying to think of a distraction.

"I bet you're excited for little Leyton baby." She suddenly smiles up at him, but the look in his eyes tells her that it was definitely not what she should have said. He forgets the curiosity he had for what she said only seconds ago in favour of the depression that overwhelms him. He turns away from her, ignoring her, busying himself with useless tasks; like rearranging his already tidy desk. He picks up his pencil cup and places it back down; restacks his books and papers. Deciding to wait him out, Brooke leans on his wall, looking at the framed certificate of literary excellence hanging on his wall. However, when his stubborn silence outlasts her store of patience, she decides to jump in.

"Lucas. We have to talk about this." He ignores her, making a point to keep his back to her and hoping to God that she'll just leave. But even as he sends the prayer, he knows that it's a useless venture. Brooke never backed down of something she set her mind to. Still, he hopes…

"You know that I could talk to your back all night if I have to."

He clenches his teeth. A higher power definitely hated him. He silently curses her stubbornness. It's the one thing he could honestly say was predictable about Brooke Davis.

"There's nothing to talk about, Brooke."

"Sure there is." Her voice is light; he half expects her to pull out a magazine and talk to him about the latest celebrity gossip. "Your fiancé is in the hospital fighting for her life and your unborn child's and you're trying to drink your ass to death."

He turns sharply and glares at her. How dare she? Brooke has the decency to look apologetic, but he couldn't get past the bitterness that slipped out in her words.

"Get the fuck out, Brooke," he says through clenched teeth. Brooke however doesn't move.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that…" she sighs. What had she meant, then? She's been worried for Peyton the entire night and seeing Lucas at the bar instead of by her bedside just made her so angry.

"Lucas, you should go comfort her…"

"I can't, Brooke." He sounds so defeated that Brooke actually backs down for a moment.

"She needs you right now. And your baby—"

"NO! Okay? I can't fucking do this right now!" He combs shaky fingers through his hair. "This isn't supposed to happen. This wasn't supposed to be how it goes. I finally chose her. Everyone kept telling me that once I chose her it would all be alright. This isn't supposed to happen!" He doesn't seem to be talking to her anymore, just blabbing on to himself, trying to reason his way through the obvious panic attack that so intensely washed over him.

Suddenly, he picks up his pencil cup and whips it across the room. It breaks on impact, producing an echoing snapping sound that makes Brooke jump in alarm.

"Lucas!"

"She was supposed to be perfect!" His eyes fill up with tears that won't fall. "You were too hard. A-a-an' Lindsey, Lindsey was too easy but Peyton—she, she was supposed to be just right and I-I—"

Brooke decides to ignore the Three Bears metaphor in favour of calming him down.

"Lucas." She takes three giant steps towards him and puts both hands on his shoulders. "Lucas, look at me." His eyes connect with hers, and they're so lost and afraid that she almost breaks down right then. "They're gonna be okay," she whispers, and she's not sure if she's trying to convince him or herself.

"But this is too hard, Brooke," he whispers; broken. "I'm tired. I'm so fucking tired of having to fight all the time. Lindsey left, an—even she said that Peyton was it for me. Even you…an-and I've gotten nowhere."

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. "Don't say that."

"Why the hell not?" He's glaring at her, and she's too stunned to say anything. "You heard what the doctors said, Brooke. Peyton's got a high chance of dying along with the baby. She won't listen to me about terminating the pregnancy, and—" he wonders if he should tell her what's been plaguing him all this time. Wonders, if telling her will make her see him as the monster he knows he is. There is no excuse for the way he's feelings—hell, there's no excuse for the way he's acting right now. He should be there, by Peyton's side. He should fight her harder to save herself...he should, and Brooke is going to hate him when she finds out the truth.

Yet...the look in her eyes is understanding, urging him to open up, to let her save him.

"And," he continues, "A part of me…is glad she doesn't." He whispers this so softly that even with their bodies so close, Brooke almost misses it. Her eyes immediately soften.

"Lucas. Hey." She takes hold of his face and makes him look at her. "It'll be alright. It will." And her sympathetic tone makes him finally break down.

"But what if they're not, Brooke?" His voice cracks, and his eyes plead for an answer that she cannot give. "What am I supposed to do if they're not? When will I ever just be happy?" He looks so much like a beat up child at that moment that all she wants to do with hug him and rock him to sleep. And that's exactly what she does.

"Come here," she says softly as she directs him to his bed and lies beside him.

"I'm just so scared." He mumbles from the crook of her neck, ever the child. "I don't want to be alone."

"I know." She tightens the hold on him and whispers soothing reassurance to calm him. "It'll be okay," she whispers. "It's going to be okay."

She prays that she's right.

B&L

Lucas digs his head into his pillow, trying to drown out the sound of sizzling coming from the kitchen. His hang over supplies the accompanying percussion and the sound of his alarm blast away the emptiness with an array of bass instruments. Trumpets, saxophones, trombones—each like hammering nails into his painfully groggy skull.

Insistent vibrations tickle his stomach and he reaches to grab his cell phone, answering without checking the caller I.D.

"Hello." He mumbles into the pillow.

"Lucas?" It's Peyton. He pushes himself up in a rush, and groans at the protests his head makes at the sudden movement.

"You alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. What about you though? Are you out of the hospital?"

"No. The doctor still wants to monitor me for the day before he discharges me."

Lucas takes a deep breath. There's an awkward silence.

"Look, Peyton…"

"No, Lucas, I understand. I'm not mad; I know how hard it is to wait. I'm just—I wanted to see if you were okay?"

Lucas sighs, feeling even more like shit than when he woke up.

"No, Peyton. It's not okay. I'm so sorry for leaving you like I did. I'll be there as soon as I can."

There's a short silence on the other line. "Did you eat breakfast yet?"

"No." He suddenly realizes what the sizzling he could still hear was. Brooke was cooking breakfast.

"And I don't think I will, today." He hears his fiancé chuckle on the other end.

"Don't be silly. I spoke to B. this morning. I know she's making you food. Don't be unappreciative, Luke."

"Okay mom." She laughs.

"Okay, see you soon. Love you, Lucas."

"Love you, too." Hanging up, Lucas takes a moment to calm his wayward nerves. The guilt refuses to leave him, and the fear has increased with the knowledge that the doctors kept her for observation. He collects his bearings and forces himself off the bed. He needs to stop running away, he tells himself.

B&L

"Since when do you cook?" Brooke turns and gives him a smile. He looks refreshed, having just stepped out of the shower—much better than his drunken depression the night before.

"Morning, handsome! I made you breakfast!" she seems so excited to be giving him food that any thoughts of going to the café leave his mind…even if eating her food is likely to end up killing him.

She places their plates on the table, filled with expertly cooked omelets and crisped bacon. He blinks at the food in shock.

"What?" He looks up and catches her eyes, completely bewildered.

"This looks edible."

Brooke huffs, hands resting on her hips in the most defiant image her 5 ft 5 frame could muster.

"I'll have you know, Mr. I'm-too-much-of-an-unappreciative-ass-to-say-thank-you, that I have learned how to cook various dishes in my time in New York."

"Oh really?" He forces himself not to laugh at how personally she takes his teasing.

"Yes," she says seriously. "And if you don't like it, then by all means, starve!" She twirls away from him and sets on preparing her own breakfast. Lucas laughs.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Look," she turns around and watches him take a bite off his omelet. "See?" He says after audibly swallowing. "Delicious!"

"Mm-hm." She gives him a dry look, making him laugh once again, before joining him at the table.

For a few moments, they eat in silence, enjoying the comfortable peace that surrounds them. After a while, Lucas starts to think back to their night before. He doesn't remember too much of when they got home, but he does remember the bar.

"So, we never did talk about Julian leaving…" Brooke gives him a look.

"We didn't talk about much of anything." Lucas shrugs and goes back to eating. The air is filled with silent tension, and it doesn't take long before Brooke breaks.

"It's really not a big deal," she says and glares at his knowing smile. "We both knew it would be too weird. Especially being footnotes in the Lucas&Peyton love story." She said it with such ease and conviction that Lucas almost missed it.

"What?" he twists his head so fast he's sure he'll get whip lash; the hangover that was slowly fading coming back in full force. But he makes himself concentrate.

"What, what?" She reaches over the table and snatches a piece of bacon off his plate, already having devoured hers. Lucas is too stunned to even try to stop her.

"What'd you just say?" Brooke gives him a weird look, but decides to humor him. Tilting her head in classic "thinking Brooke Davis" fashion, she thinks back to their conversation.

"What? The footnote thing?" His horrified look sends her into a fit of giggles.

"Oh, Lucas, relax. I'm totally over it."

Lucas Scott, for all his metaphorical stagger and tact, could do nothing but squint.

"Dude…seriously, it's okay."

"Tell me you're joking."

She opens her mouth to say something, but thinks better of it and stays silent. She cocks her head to the side, her eyes belaying her confusion.

"Brooke…" He reaches across the table and takes her hands in his. Instinctively, she begins to tug it away, but the look in his eyes makes her stop. They're ashamed; almost…regretful.

"Why would you think that?"

Brooke blinks. Why does he sound so sad? "Umm…because it's true?"

"But…" he struggles to speak. "After everything?"

His eyes glisten with tears. And she doesn't understand. Everyone else agrees; everyone else seemed to go along with it. It was the town's own inside joke. Why was he making it such a big deal? Why was he making this matter?

Sitting up straight, she pulls her hands from beneath his, immediately missing their warmth.

"You are getting way too worked up over this." she gives him her signature Brooke Davis grin. "You and I both know that we were just a road block in your path to find true love with Peyton." He tenses—she doesn't seem to notice. "I made peace with it way back in high school. It's okay, really."

But it's not okay. "Stop saying that."

"Saying what?" Does she really not get it?

Lucas suddenly jumps from his seat and paces the kitchen. He has no idea why this is getting to him so much. But hearing her say that, that their relationship meant nothing? It was wrong. Just—

"Brooke, I don't know who's been feeding you that crap, but it needs to stop." He suddenly feels so disoriented and confused that he has to sit back down. He looks up at her to see her eye him wearily.

"Lucas…are you still drunk?"

"You weren't just a footnote, Brooke," he finally sighs, ignoring her attempt at humor. Brooke shifts in her seat. He doesn't understand why this is making her uncomfortable.

"Of course I wa—"

"No. You weren't."His tone is final, and any protests die on her lips. She's quiet as he gets up from the table, stiff as a board, and heads towards the front door.

"Why does this matter, Luke?" Her curiosity interrupts him. If she had just held on, he would have been out the door, and she would have gone on to believe whatever she wanted.

Lucas rests his forehead on the door and takes a deep breath. Why does it matter? Such a simple question deserves an equally efficient answer. But as he takes his time to sort through all the emotions and thoughts swarming over him; memories he thought repressed long ago, he realizes that he could never give her the answer she deserves.

"It matters because it's a lie, Brooke," he mumbles more to himself. He wishes that she'd believe him and let this go, but when has Brooke ever trusted his words?

"It's not a lie."Her voice is low, scared—but forceful nonetheless. She wants him to agree with her. She needs him to look at her and tell her with all conviction that what she was saying was true; that their time together was nothing. That he was happy, and thankful, that she had let him go—that she was right, and she really did hold him back from happiness.

Lucas remains silent, his head still resting on the wooden door. Brooke takes this as encouragement for her to continue. She doesn't see his hands wrap around the door handle in a death grip, his knuckles white from the strain.

"Lucas, we have to realize it for what it is. We didn't have any real feelings for each other," she'd said this so many times in the past, she's numb from the pain. "You were in denial of your feelings to Peyton. We were just a source of high school drama, that's all."

Lucas reels towards her, suddenly overcome with the urge to grab her and shake some sense back into her.

"I was in denial? What the fuck is it with this town and their obsession with telling me what I feel?! I pine for you, I secretly love Peyton; I marry Lindsey—It's secretly Peyton I want. What the FUCK made everyone else the expert on my life?!"

"Why are you so angry?" She really doesn't understand this. Has the guy even read his own book?

He doesn't seem to hear her. He just continues on with his tantrum, still stunned over what she was saying.

"I fought for you. I pined for you for almost an entire year. Why would I do that if you were nothing more to me than an escape route? Huh, Brooke? Rationalize that with your ridiculous logic."

He stares at her, daring her to come up with a rebuttal. But she doesn't have one. It's always been easier to just ignore those facts.

"Look...that doesn't matter right now. We were young and immature. Now that we're older we know what we want for our lives better. And, Lucas, what you want—what you've always wanted—is Peyton. We all know she's been your dream since grade school and it's useless for any of us to try and get in the way."

Lucas closes his eyes, and runs frustrated hands through his hair. She did it again. In typical, Brooke Davis fashion, she'd expertly avoided answering the question while still remaining on topic.

Brooke walks up and lightly places a hand on his heaving shoulder.

"Even back then, when we were together, I've always known the truth. I didn't want to believe it, and for whatever reason, neither did you, but deep down I knew where your heart was. It's why I was so insecure." She pauses to catch her breath. Even though she said this slow, softly, it took the air right out of her as though she'd run a marathon. Lucas stays silent, looking at her with an unreadable expression. "It wasn't until you went away after Keith's death that I had time to think things over and realize the truth. And when Peyton told me that she still loved you, well...I decided to stop getting in the way of the inevitable." His eyes flicker with a hidden emotion, and she takes it as acceptance.

She lowers his hands from his shoulders, now calm with his steady breathing, and smiles up at him. She would have preferred him to say something—maybe apologize for making this such a big deal, and then confirm her speech, but she takes the silence as a blessing.

"So, you going to go see Peyton now?" she goes to clear the table, glad that they got that over with, letting him go comfort his loved ones.

"She told you she loved me while we were still together?"

Brooke blinks, startled at this turn of events. Just like that, the peace, the understanding—it was gone.

"Uuh…" Really, what could she say? It was years ago. Ancient history for most. She wanted to confirm it but the way he said it—it was so accusatory. As though he was pinning everything on that one event. And though she had done the same thing in her naïve 18 year old mind, she knew better now.

"Yes, but that's not the point. The point is, you two are together, like you should be."

He doesn't seem to hear her. "Is that why you broke up with me?"

Brooke groans and puts her hands on her face.

"Lucas, you're acting like a child."

He knows this, but he can't help but push her. "Just answer me."

Brooke sighs in defeat. "No—well, it was the catalyst. It also had to do with our lack of communication and my insecurities and the fact that you were never there for me." Brooke can't help but let a little bitterness slip through. If he was going to act like a spoiled teenager then she was going to as well.

"Wasn't there for…" He trails off, looking dumbfounded. In a beat, he's laughing; a loud, barking laughter, causing Brooke to jump back in shock.

"This is so typical." A second—and his laughter is gone; replaced with an almost pleading look. "Brooke, I don't know how much I have to tell you this, but I would be there for you if you needed me."

She exhaled, deeply. She felt as though the wind was just knocked out of her. Images of fists and screams and blood flood her inner eye; memories of pleads for mercy and a savior echo in the back of her mind. And just like before, her pleading goes unnoticed. As always, her screams of pain are drowned out by the darkness of the night, without a soul to hear them, no one to care.

She locks eyes with Lucas. I just wish you could save me...I promise. Her eyes grow cold.

Lucas' squints as he sees the shifts of emotions flash through her eyes. He could have sworn he'd seen fear in there somewhere—but in an instant, it was gone. Replaced with a frigid wall that he couldn't describe. His eyes widen in realization.

"Is something going on, Brooke?" That was definitely the wrong thing to say. Because as soon as the words left his mouth her empty expression turned into one of disgust. She scowls at him.

"I can't do this." she says out of nowhere. She walks away from him, and he jumps to stop her.

"Brooke! Wait!" He grabs her arm and she flinches away. He immediately drops it, worried that he'd hurt her—though he hadn't grabbed her that hard at all.

"Brooke..." She refuses to face him, doesn't do anything, really. Her head is held high, her back is straight, shoulders are tense—but her eyes...they were lifeless.

"Brooke, if there is something going on with you, you need to tell me. Whatever you need, I will be there fo--"

She didn't even realize what she was doing. The sound of skin smacking skin was her only indication that she had just slapped him. Through tearless eyes she glares at him and wills him to disappear with every fiber of her being.

"Do not lie to me you son of a bitch!" The intensity of her accusations causes Lucas to retreat away from her. He can't even speak—can't think as he sees her eyes burn with hatred.

Hatred.

"Wha--" She hits him again—and he wonders what she's done to be able to pack such a powerful punch.

"You didn't even blink. You didn't even bat an eye when you saw me at the funeral. You did nothing." She lost her breath in that last word.

"Brooke...what are you talking about?"

"Don't pretend like you don't know!" Her throat aches from the intensity of her screams, but as she stares into Lucas' bewildered gaze, she can't bring herself to care.

Lucas backs away, his mind furiously working to remember what the hell had gotten her so angry with him. Suddenly, a memory forces its way into the forefront.

"Hey Luke?" he turned his attention to his fiancé.

"Listen, before we go, I just want you to know that Brooke is coming an—"

Lucas smiled. "I'm glad. We need someone to comfort Jamie. Haley has her handful with Nathan and I…" Peyton put a hand on him.

"I know. But, Brooke...she got hurt yesterday. She fell down the stairs."

"What? Is…Is she alright?" His breathing suddenly became labored. He did not need to hear this right now.

"She's okay! She's okay. It's just that…her bruises…they look really bad and...I think she's hiding something from me. But she's not ready to talk about it, so…I'm just asking you to stay clear of her for a bit. She doesn't like to be hovered over." Lucas didn't seem to acknowledge her request.

"What do you think she's hiding?"

"I don't know." She smiled. "You know how Brooke is; never really talks until she's good and ready."

He frowned. That's the problem. "But Peyton, we do know how she is. Most of the time, she's never good and ready." He said this as seriously as he could, but Peyton still smiled at her friend's stubbornness.

"I know." She sighed. "I think it's about Angie. She says that it didn't bother her but I think it really upset her that we weren't there so close after she lost Angie."

Lucas closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He hadn't even thought of that. At the time, he just wanted his heart ache to be over. He wanted to be with someone and not have all the drama and heartbreak that came with it. But Brooke…

"Seriously, Lucas. Don't push her, or make her feel weak. Today is stressful enough as it is. Let her come to us."

Lucas clenched his fists, but nodded at his fiancé. He couldn't shake the feeling of doubt in him, but Peyton was right.

Brooke was ridiculously independent.

He's brought back from his memory by another forceful shove from the angry brunette. He looks into her tearful eyes and his heart breaks at the pain he sees within them.

"Brooke...is...is this about Angie?"

Brooke takes a step back, her breathing hitches as realization dawns on her.

"You really have no clue." If possible, her voice sounded more accusatory. He didn't know, she realized. He hasn't even cared enough to ask about her. It wasn't just that he was consumed by his own drama and tragedies in his life—it's that she just didn't matter enough for him to even notice.

In that moment, all the anger, all the mixed emotions died within her. She looks up at Lucas with a steady gaze.

"I don't think you've ever done anything more to prove how worthless I am to you than this." Lucas gasps, partly from the sudden change in her emotions—she was calm, steady, cold--but mostly from her words. What the hell did he say?

"What? How'd I--" He can't find the words. Always, with Brooke, he can never find the right words.

"Go to hell, Lucas." and before he can stop her, she's out the door.

Ps. I hate Mark. Love you all. And BL, obviously.