In Episode 2-03 ('Near Wild Heaven'), while Dan is still in the hospital recovering from his heart attack, he arranges for Lucas to discover the envelope he's been keeping in a lockbox at work, which is filled with childhood photographs of Luke at various ages along with newspaper clippings of his sports accomplishments. This revelation is both confusing and upsetting to Luke, who always assumed Dan had no interest in him, so at the end of the episode after Dan has been released from the hospital, he drives to the Scott mansion, confronts Dan in his driveway and makes it clear the photos "don't change anything". Dan acknowledges that he cannot change their past but hopes to change their future. Within seconds of saying this, Dan falters as he's walking up the steps to his house and Lucas instinctively steps in to help, although he clearly feels awkward allowing a smiling Dan to lean on him and drape a fatherly arm around his shoulders.

The following conversation between Dan and Lucas takes place in the house shortly after that scene.

Do me a favor, son? I could use a good read by Steinbeck. Would you find one of his books in the TV room and bring it to me? It's right through there.

Lucas didn't want to. He actually wanted nothing more than to leave, but he nodded nonetheless and left his father and stepmother in the kitchen, all too conscious of their eyes on his back. He hated that feeling and he hated this house. He felt like a stranger here, like a guest or an employee instead of a son visiting his old man, and even that wasn't right because he wasn't actually supposed to be here "visiting" his father. He only meant to swing by, state what he had to say, and then get on his way, but Dan had nearly fainted outside, so what was he supposed to do? He had to help him inside and now he was helping him again, fetching a book he was somehow supposed to find in this ginormous family room he'd only stepped foot in once before.

With his hands stuffed in his pockets, Lucas forced himself to scan the mahogany shelves that flanked the television set, trying not to linger on the basketball trophies that highlighted Dan's achievements or the picture frames that showcased different members of the Scott family. Lucas wasn't in a single one, of course, why would he be? He was the dirty little secret around here, the son to be ashamed of, the kid best tucked away in the lockbox of a bottom desk drawer.

He needed to find the damn book and get out of here.

With nothing by John Steinbeck presenting itself at eye level, Lucas studied the upper shelves above his head to the right and left of various duck carvings. Suddenly, there is it was: East of Eden. Lucas checked for more by Steinbeck, but that novel was the only one visible, practically dwarfed beside a leather-bound, hardcover collection of automotive history. He reached up and slid it out of place, then arched an eyebrow as a brown paper packet slipped from between the pages and fell to the floor. He shouldn't have peered inside, he thought later; he should have left well enough alone.

But he didn't.

He set the book aside, picked up the envelope, then succumbed to curiosity the same way he had previously in Dan's office on the outskirts of town ... and then he stood there with a flushed face and a pounding heart while sifting through a whole new set of his childhood photos.

Cradled barefoot in his mom's lap under a tree in the park, napping in diapers and a t-shirt.

Standing soapy and wet in the bathtub at the age of five, grinning to someone off camera.

At the beach with Keith at age ten, swimming and building sandcastles.

Posing for his official school pictures at Tree Hill High his freshman year, sophomore and junior years.

Playing basketball at the River Court, happy, laughing, oblivious.

The River Court photos were plentiful, Lucas discovered, and seemed to cover his entire boyhood. Each one had his age and the date scribbled on the back, followed by a critique of his playing style, tips a coach might tell his team about an opposing player ... or simply the observations an interested father might make about his son. The handwriting was Dan's. Lucas knew it the second he spotted it, which meant one thing and one thing only: Daniel Scott had been following him from backstage his entire life and he'd never once, to his face, shown a single glimmer than he cared.

"Did you find the book, son?"

As the parent in question materialized on the top step of the sunken living room, Lucas looked over at the man he had yet to call 'Dad' and felt a painful tightness growing in his throat.

"Don't you mean did I find the pictures you wanted me to?" he asked. "Yeah, I found 'em ... and like I told you before this doesn't change anything."

Dan descended a step and offered a tentative smile. "I think it does."

"Well, you're wrong."

Lucas struggled to mask his feelings as he returned his attention to the pictures he was holding, wanting to crumple and destroy the River Court ones especially. He hadn't realized he was starting to until Dan staggered over and snatched them from his grasp.

"Give them here, son."

Lucas watched him straighten the pictures like a man possessed then slide them carefully back into the envelope. Luke didn't want to ask the question that was foremost in his mind – he knew he would be showing weakness by demonstrating this whole thing bothered him – but he couldn't help it. He needed to know.

"Tell me why?" he demanded.

Dan glanced at him beneath his lashes. "Why what?"

"Why do you have all these pictures of me? Why bother collecting them at all? In fact, how did you even get them? I know you sure as hell didn't get them from my mom, so did you steal them from Uncle Keith?"

Now Dan looked at him. "You know, contrary to what you were raised to think, Lucas, Keith is not the be-all and end-all of fathers in this town. He's not the only proud parent around. I can be a good father too. I am a good father too."

"Yeah," Luke snorted, "to Nathan maybe."

"And to you," Dan retorted, "or at least I'm trying to be. Hell, I could have been a long time ago, if your mother and Keith had let me."

"That's a lie." Lucas stared hard into Dan's eyes that were so like the color of his own and fought the urge to deck him. "They never stopped you. They never got in your way. You just didn't care enough about me to make an effort while I was growing up."

"And that's where you're wrong, son." To Luke's everlasting fury, Dan gazed on him with pity. "I did care and they did stop me. I kept an eye on your progress and cut all those clippings out of the local papers myself every time I found them. And the night you were born I drove eight hours straight to get there in time, but what did I find when I got back to Tree Hill? You, my newborn son, in the arms of Boozy, my so-called brother. And that was just the start of him taking you from me. It just got worse every year."

Lucas could not believe it, and for a moment he was too angry to speak. He stalked to the fireplace, trying to control the twitching in his muscles, but his rage was too great. He could not believe that Dan was once again shifting the blame rather than taking responsibility, and finally, he whirled back to face him, unable to contain his temper.

"You could've tried harder, huh! I never saw you coming around! You never talked to me on the street! If I was so important to you, you would've done more than just give up when you couldn't get Mom to share custody of me! You would've sent me letters explaining things, or a few Christmas presents, or even just a single, stupid birthday card!"

"And I did all that."

"You didn't! You never once gave me anything!"

"Oh yes, I did. Go ask your mother what she did with all those toys and cards and money I sent over the first six years of your life. I admit I stopped after a while because I knew you weren't getting them, but that doesn't mean they never existed or that I wasn't thinking of you."

"You … are a liar. I don't believe any of it."

The hatred and feelings of betrayal were plain to see on Lucas's face, but Dan wasn't bothered by them. He looked at his son with compassion.

"Go ask your mother," he said again gently. "You got your cell on you?"

"No."

Dan nodded toward the hallway. "Well, there's a phone in my den right around the corner. Use it, talk to her and know the truth."

Lucas didn't move and Dan honestly wasn't sure what he might do, but suddenly, the boy marched from the room and disappeared down the hall, slamming the door to Dan's private home office seconds later.

Left behind, Dan took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

After a moment, he checked the clock above the television set, then took his time putting the packet full of pictures back inside East of Eden, which he slowly returned to its place on the top shelf. After that, he sank into one of the overstuffed chairs and waited. A short time later, Deb was by his side, handing him a glass of iced tea, when one crash after another began filtering down from his office. Before she could investigate, he reached out to stop her.

"No, Deb. It's okay."

"It's not okay, Dan! Lucas is trashing our house!"

"Not the house, just my office, and I'll deal with it."

Deb wasn't convinced, especially since Dan didn't look the least bit inclined (or able) to get off his ass and actually do something about this, but she gave in anyway. She had never been good at dealing with temperamental teenagers, so she couldn't very well make an attempt now at calming her husband's illegitimate and obviously infuriated son. And if it really was only Dan's office that was under attack, and Dan himself didn't care, why should she...? The expression on Dan's face said the same, so Deb used that as her cue, took the easy way out and left.

Still rooted in his chair, Dan took a sip from his glass and kept watching the clock. When the noise coming from down the hall finally ceased and the silence lasted a good five minutes, he set down his drink, then pushed himself to his feet with a grunt and started walking. In front of his office, he paused to catch his breath, but then he turned the knob and pushed open the door, mentally prepared for the disaster inside.

He wasn't disappointed.

The lamp, his coffee mug, his pens, and his papers, everything that usually decorated his desk, was now on the floor in various places. So were the potted plants and so were quite a few of the frames that used to hang on his wall. Almost none of the furniture was in its rightful place and only the heavy desk itself was still upright and unmoved. The phone Lucas had used to call Karen was lying tossed and broken in a corner, and as for Lucas himself, he sat slumped on the floor against one wall with his knees drawn up and his arms crossed on top of them.

He didn't look up at the interruption.

Dan arched an eyebrow as he took a good look around and then crunched his way across the room, avoiding the broken glass whenever possible. He perched on the edge of his empty desk.

"So Karen told you the truth...?"

For a while an exhausted Lucas couldn't bring himself to reply, but then gradually, he raised his head a little, his blue eyes clouded. "Do you have any idea how much I wanted to know you when I was little? I wanted a dad so bad."

"Lucas—"

"Don't you get it? All this time ... completely wasted. We could've met in secret. You could've been my dad in secret. I wouldn't have told my mom we were meeting if that's what it took."

As Luke turned to him now in clear pain, desperately seeking answers, Dan met his tortured gaze head on. "Maybe not, son, but when exactly would these meetings have taken place?"

"What do you mean? After school. On weekends. I don't know wh—"

"Well, I do know," Dan told him in no uncertain terms, "never that's when. When you weren't in school, Lucas, you were with your mother at home or in her café. And if you weren't there, you were with your uncle. And if you weren't with him, you were with Haley or your friends down at the River Court." As Lucas opened his mouth to butt in, Dan went on. "You telling me your buddies wouldn't have blabbed the truth to their parents the second they saw us talking? 'Cause if you're about to, don't bother."

"They wouldn't have said anything if I'd told them not to."

"Well, I wasn't willing to risk it," Dan said, clearly unconvinced. "Tree Hill is a small town, in case you haven't noticed, and the people around here don't know when the hell to keep their yaps shut. Karen made it very clear to me from Day One that I wasn't welcome in your life, so I wasn't about to chance her finding out about us and then leaving town with you permanently just to keep us apart. The way things turned out ... well ... at least I still got to see you every now and then, keep tabs on you."

"But never let me know you cared, is that it?"

"Exactly."

Lucas smiled bitterly as he stood up and made his way toward the door. "Well, trust me, Daddy. You did a bang-up job."

"Son, wait—"

In the doorway, Lucas stopped and turned back. "You know what? You're full of crap. If you really wanted to be my dad, you would've tried and kept on trying. You would've found a way."

"I'm trying now, son."

"Yeah, and I still don't get it. Why?"

Dan stood up as well and slowly walked over to him. "Because you're older. Because at your age a judge will let you pick the parent you want to live with if I fight for custody."

Instantly, Lucas was on alert, knowing full well that his mom would sell her café, her body and everything she owned, if it came to that, in order to protect him and keep him away this man in front of him.

"You wouldn't dare."

"I'm also doing this because my heart attack has given us a second chance. Let's not waste it, son."

As Dan reached out to touch him, Lucas backed away and shook his head. "It's too late. It's been too late for at least five years."

"It's only too late if we both want it to be," Dan said, but his boy wasn't listening and he wasn't sticking around. Dan took a step after him and shouted "LUCAS!" but the boy was young and healthy and fast, and Dan himself definitely was not, at least not at the moment. Before he could stagger a foot, the front door slammed and Dan knew he was gone.