Disclaimer: I don't own OTH, or - as prior warning - any music that I may associate with this fic. Want proof? Look them up. C------- F--------- R------ is not listed as any of the owners. Paranoids.
A/N: The latest fic born from the depths of my subconcious, but one that actually took almost ten possible drafts to get around to. I've always wanted write a Nathan/Brooke fic, but apart from the lack of knowledge in One Tree Hill lore (I didn't watch S1, I watched one ep of S2, skipped S3, watched the back-ends of maybe half of S4, and... gave up on S5...), I've had a severe case of writer's block that's prohibited me from writing anything - despite my love for Brooke and especially Nathan/Brooke - for the last few months. I really love this pairing (I call them my Siamese Twins), and because I couldn't seem to get any of my earlier writings on them right - I abandoned the effort, more or less, completely.
But, rest assured, I'm feeling back in the pink, so this is my first attempt at Brooke/Nathan, with Nathan/Haley because there is no way anyone could deny Haley existed. It's another angst fic, with tragedy in the mix, and I'm hoping my rejuvenation will last long enough to complete this. Eitherway, you know the drill. If you wanna review, review. If you wanna bitch, open up your window, and jump. Land on your ass for all I care.
And with that, ONWARDS!!!
It Never Even Slows Down
He had expected to lose her when she had announced her class's trip to Greece.
She had been so excited, and so starry-eyed that she had missed the puddle of rainwater on the garage floor; slipping in the middle of her words and landing - far too quickly for his reflexes to react - onto the cold surface, her right side taking the brunt. A small cut had burned her forehead, but like the trooper she was, she laughed it off - even after getting stitches from the hospital four hours later.
He had expected to lose her when she had come home, with just about everything ever written about the fine country of Greece.
She had rambled along like a well played radio about how her class was looking forward to the day, and she hadn't seen their son's sneakers littered on the staircase - one heeled-step, and she had fallen down the flight with a short shriek and an abrupt stop. She had to spend a night in the ward for - surprisingly - a sprained ankle, but beyond that, the light in her eyes hadn't even flinched a bit.
He had expected to lose her when she was finishing up the last of her shopping three weeks later at the local mall.
She had doubled back to the store when she counted one pair of caps less on the receipt she was reading as she drove, and nearly ran face first into a ditch. She had pulled over and stopped to breathe, calling him on the phone and asking him randomly about their son, and about his brother who was stopping by for dinner that night with his wife and daughter - before she had the guts to start the car up and continue driving again.
It was only two more weeks later when she told him about that day, and that phone call on the side of the road.
Sometimes, he wonders, what if she had told him about it earlier? Would it have made everything different?
He had somehow even expected to lose her when he'd dropped her off at the airport, for the night flight out to Greece.
She had exited the car, kissed him on the cheek as he pulled her luggage up to her heels, then reminded him about the little things she usually did around the house. He had smiled then, kissed her deep on her lips, then assured her that everything would be alright before heading back to the car after watching her form slip into the crowds. Nothing really happened during that particular moment, but he had a feeling something could, and that was enough to keep the memory of her slender back, lingering in his mind long after.
He had expected to lose her during the flight to Greece.
It wasn't some sort of suspicion, or fear, or incident. It was just the fact that it was a flight, which involved air, weather and no ground. National Geographic said it all the time, so it was almost effortless to imagine something coming loose, then everything falling apart.
But then, she called and said that she had arrived safely. No words could describe how he felt.
He had somewhat expected to lose her while she was in Greece, but that turned out to be unfounded. Her kids loved her and kept their eyes on her, hung onto her. What her blind spot couldn't catch, her students caught, and she was safer than a baby in a mother's womb. He had even suspected that he would lose her on her flight back to America, but aside from a storm warning that never even reached the plane she was on, she seemed to have god's angels on her side. She had called him from her cellphone when she arrived late at night, waking him from sleep, and told him tiredly - but happily - that she was home.
He had smiled to himself and promised to wait up for her. The last thing on his mind being, that he had been worried for nothing.
So when the doorbell rang and two men in dark clothing asked him if he was Nathan Scott, and if he was married to Haley James Scott; he thought something - but not anything - was wrong. He wasn't expecting it, and he sure as hell wasn't expecting this. He faintly recalled preparing himself mentally for something like this - call him paranoid, these last few months - but right then, no matter how many times he tried to make himself remember just what he told himself he'd do if it actually happened, he couldn't think of a single move.
Or a single word.
Or a single breath.
He had rushed with his son to the hospital and found the operating theatre where they were trying to revive her, but he was just that bit too late. A drunk driver had switched a lane too fast, and the taxi had met the red convertible's bumper with such force, Haley had been thrown forward, her neck snapping before the taxi came to a stop against the lone lamp post on the side of the road. She hadn't even had time to realise she was in a bad situation, the doctor explained.
But Nathan didn't care. He hadn't been expecting this; and now it was all he could think of.
Peyton was devastated, but Lucas was inconsolable. Everyone who had come to the wake were beyond affected. Mouth had noted that they looked like zombies. Nathan could neither agree nor disagree. He just wanted to simultaneously ask everyone there to leave - get out, and let him and his wife have their final moments together in peace - while also begging everyone to stay. Because once all of this was over, he would be alone. No Haley to sit beside him and tell him that everything would be alright. No Haley to ask him if he wanted sit and talk, or if he wanted some time alone.
All he wanted now - he wanted his wife back.
The pastor was the same one who had married them; and it was evident that the Scott-James wedding was something of a sweet memory, because the man had trouble holding back his own tears throughout the ceremony. Karen had kept turning to him from the next pew, asking with her eyes if he was okay, but Nathan wasn't sure what his expression said. He supposed it said that he was broken, because that was how he felt, but then again, who knew? He felt as if all his strength was missing, so anything more than sit still and time will pass - he honestly did not know how to find the will to show it.
Karen was seated near Lucas, holding his hand until they were both pale and cold. Lucas couldn't look at him, as if Nathan's face only made Haley's death that much real. Peyton assured him that Luke wasn't upset at him - only at everything else. Haley had been his best friend. You don't get past that.
Well, Haley had been his wife. How the hell was he supposed to get past that?
There were three - no, four - people who got up and said a few words to the crowd about how much they loved Haley. It was all German to him. Peyton was first, representing Lucas, Karen and Sawyer. Rachel was next, representing herself. Debra gave a eulogy that was both herself and Dan. Mia gave a short one that represented all the fans of Haley's once-upon rockstar life. She finished it with a short performance of Jeff Buckley's Hallelujah.
Nathan had felt cold by then, his arms wrapping around himself and willing this strange air of iciness away. He closed his eyes, trembling slightly when Mia finished. The pastor's voice spoke again, and he had been doing a good job of denial until he felt the seat next to him grow empty and footsteps heading towards the altar.
Nathan's shallow breathing became that much more erratic when Jamie took the mic and opened up a piece of white paper. His son's eyes looked briefly at him, before looking away and starting his speech.
"My mother was a rockstar. That's mostly what I can remember about her now. She was the coolest person... ever. She had a career that not many kids could have the luxury of boasting about. My mommy was a rockstar! How cool is that?"
The congregation laughed softly, each recalling the days of Haley James Scott, singer extraodinaire. Jamie looked down for a moment, his shoulders stilling under the black suit, then raised his head to address everyone in front of him.
"But the best thing about all of that... was the fact that she was my mother, first and foremost. Mom... She always made sure I had my head on straight. Not in that... 'I know better than you' way that most parents had... She just...-"
Silence swept the church, eyes looking away or straight at either Jamie, or Haley's closed casket. Haley's body wasn't destroyed, but...
Jamie's sob rang through on the microphone. Nathan knew he had to get up there and console him, but he couldn't move. Mia, who was still up on the altar, quickly came over and embraced the crying boy. Jamie sobbed into her shoulder.
If Nathan had to guess who's eyes were stabbing him in the back at the moment, he would say it was Lucas'.
Jamie finally pulled away, and with trembling hands, smoothed out his speech. "I miss mommy... But I know she's still with us. She's... just somewhere else now. Like she was on tour..." Peyton's sob slipped through. "But she's always gonna be here. Mommy's always here."
The fourteen year old wiped away his tears. "I love you, mommy."
The pastor took over after Jamie went back to his seat, where Nathan could barely move, even as his everything wanted nothing more then to comfort his son. Jamie's hand slipped quietly into his, his head leaning against his father's arm like it had been a chore to hold it up.
For the first time since the wake started, Nathan moved, holding his son close as the blue-eyed boy cried.
And Nathan waited, through the hymns. Through the lifting of the casket. The drive to the cemetery as it rained softly. The gathering as the box was lowered into the ground. The pouring of the first spadeful of earth. The sudden downpour of angry rain. The protesting wind that seemed to disgree with the way the world was going.
Nathan waited.
Nine hours later, when everyone was gone, and Jamie was asleep in his room from overwhelming exhaustion, Nathan sat in the dark and stared into space.
He had yet to cry.
Lifting the bottle to his lips, he drank deep and wondered if waking up in the morning would make this nightmare go away.
Somewhere in the back of his head, he wondered if Jack Daniels ever said it would.
Nathan woke up in his own bed, curled up on the left side, the right portion of the bedspread perfectly untouched. He blinked for a moment as the birds outside tweeted, and the faint sound of Jamie's tell-tale draggy footsteps - a lot like his own, Haley always said - moving about downstairs. Nathan sat up slowly at the thought. He dangled his legs off the side of the bed and breathed deep. Nothing had changed, had it?
He got to his feet. Haley was still gone.
The headache hit him gently enough to let him know it was there, but hard enough to sit him back down. He rubbed his head, wishing he could turn back the clock to before he picked up that bottle. To before a lot of things...
A knock on his door pulled him out of his thoughts. He looked up and answered. "Yes, Jamie?"
"Grandma Karen brought some breakfast over. Want me to take some up to you?"
Nathan could have cried then, but not for Haley. His son should not have to be the one taking care of him.
He sniffled. "I'll be right down, son. You help yourself first."
Jamie was silent for a while, then, "Okay. I'll save you some syrup."
Nathan listened as those footsteps made their way downstairs, then curled himself into a ball and lay himself back down. Haley usually hit him with her pillow by now, and Nathan's chest ached in fruitless anticipation. Nothing.
When he finally got himself downstairs with brushed teeth and a washed face, he found his teenage son on the couch, watching morning cartoons. Jamie had long outgrown Tom & Jerry, the Roadrunner and Spongebob, but he guessed...
We all have our own way of dealing.
Breakfast was pancakes with maple syrup, cereal with chocolate milk, and bagels with cream cheese. Nathan stared at the table, half appalled at the mess, half glad that something in the house didn't look so empty. Grabbing the cereal like he always does, he stared at the pancakes and bagels, both perfectly placed on the table - barely touched, unlike the box of cereal that was almost empty, and the carton of milk that was barely enough to fill the bowl in Nathan's hand.
Something nagged at his thoughts, but rather than make sense of it, Nathan let his hands move on their own accord. He put the cereal down, picked up a plate and placed two pancakes on it, a generous helping of syrup over them right after. He then took another plate, placed three pancakes and a spoonful of butter, before smearing cream cheese over the whole thing.
He carried both plates to the living room, setting one down before Jamie, then sitting down barefooted, watching blankly as Spongebob tried to escape Mr. Krabbs. Jamie stopped sipping the chocolate milk that drowned his softening cereal, and looked up at Nathan with tired eyes. He sighed and put the bowl away, picking up the pancakes instead and poking at the dough.
He laughed suddenly under his breath, prompting Nathan to look down at him. "What's wrong?"
Jamie shook his head. "No flour pockets."
Nathan cocked his head to the side, then put his fork down in understanding. He smirked, then frowned, then looked away from the food. Then he looked back at Jamie as Jamie ate the pancakes slowly, but surely.
He ruffled Jamie's hair, then poked at his own plate. The disc-like food parted under his fork without much resistance. He lifted the fork to his mouth and ate the bite.
It tasted sweet, a little sour from the cheese, and maple-y from the syrup. It wasn't bad, and it wasn't weird. Nathan ate another bite, all while Spongebob smiled goofily on the televison.
He'll get rid of the cereal later. Haley always said that it was too much sugar, and forbade he and Jamie from eating it for breakfast. But boys being boys, they always snuck a bit into their diet when she wasn't looking... because of the flour pockets.
Nathan swallowed, finding the lump in his throat to be more than just pancakes. It took a moment, but it passed.
He and his son continued the rest of breakfast eating in silence, random dialogue and laughter coming only from the little yellow sponge on TV.