Hope this isn't too confusing. The italics are flashbacks, and the bolded italics is a flashback within the flashback haha. If anyone has questions feel free to pm me.

XXXX

His hand floated through the powerful drafts of the air as his other hand lazily gripped the top of the steering wheel. His Ray Ban Wayfarer's adorned his face and the sun from the overhead sun roof shone warmly on his face. He felt that same feeling he had been feeling bubble over in his stomach for the past few weeks now. As he turned to the passenger seat, he was once again reminded of why.

He wasn't quite sure if that was allowed, though.

They were going on their thirteenth week of doing… well, whatever this was. The thirteenth week or the 94 days and 13 hours that they had engaged in this masquerade of what he was sure wasn't a masquerade at all. The first night they slept together he chalked it up to a lot of things; none of which he actually believed, but he sure did try his damnedest to. He had told himself it was because he was confused and she was lonely. Or was it because she was confused and he was lonely? Or because they had become each other's closest confidants in some of the most troubling times of their lives

The light of the TV illuminated his bedroom. The soft laughter of the audience of the Jimmy Fallon Show was the only noise in the room, but his mind was too clouded with thoughts to hear most of it anyway.

Just a few feet from him was Brooke lying next to him occasionally contributing in laughter to the late night program. He would catch himself glancing over at her before quickly diverting his gaze in fear that she would catch him staring. And then he would stare blankly at the television combating the rapid fire of thoughts coursing through his mind. He would try to ignore the sensation of butterflies he would get each time her hand or leg inadvertently and quickly grazed his own leg.

This was the third time in the last week he found himself in this position. Over the past two months, they had spent nearly every day together. It had all stemmed from her saving him, yet again, from running away from everything he needed to face.

He looked at his cell phone for maybe the hundredth time in the past hour. The time seemed to be moving at an accelerated speed as he began to come to the realization that maybe she wasn't coming. Exhaling, he ran his hands harshly across his forehead before resting them atop his head. The last twenty four hours had stirred all kinds of thoughts to the forefront of his mind.

He couldn't go to the river court. Not now. Not that every inch of his sanctuary was branded by the mark of Peyton. The one place he could go to clear his mind was now a graffiti declaration of love.

He couldn't go home because God knows every square inch of his bedroom reminded him of the feeble question he choked out at Lindsay's departure. 'Do you ever miss me?'

His thoughts were interrupted as he saw her walking through the terminal with a distraught look across her features. She walked quickly weaving in between the throngs of people walking every which way. Digging deeply into her blue and white checkered Louis Vuitton bag, he watched as she dug for her phone. He immediately stood up feeling his phone vibrate in his pocket. There was no use answering it as they locked eyes.

Dropping the phone to her waist, she stood there momentarily before making her way over to him.

"You got my message."

"What do you think you're doing, Luke?"

"I need to get away. Being here is just a reminder of how screwed up everything really is."

"So, what? You're going to run off to Vegas for the weekend. Then what?"

"I don't know. I don't know, okay? I just know that I'm going through some stuff. And so are you with Angie leaving. I just wanted a weekend where we could forget all of that. Aren't you tired. Brooke? I'm tired of all of this."

"Luke…" He watches with bated breath as she exhales and her shoulders slump. He can see her demeanor change towards him to one of understanding. "You could go to Vegas. And I could go with you. We could get away from all this shit and even have fun while doing it, but … we're going to come back and everything we're running from is going to right back here where we left it. Running won't help. Believe me, I know."

He stares down at the two tickets in his hands and he knows that she's right. He can't go. He's spent too long running circles around everything that he needed to face.

"I went to see Peyton tonight."

He swears that for one second he sees a flash of darkness across her eyes, and just as quickly as it appears it is gone. He's left to wonder if he even saw it at all.

"How did that go?"

"She told me that dreams of going to the night I proposed to her. She said in those dreams she says yes every time."

She looks down at the ground before looking back into his eyes.

"That doesn't sound so bad to me, Luke." A soft smile spreads across her lips.

"I waited two years to hear her say something like that. And then she finally did. And I felt nothing." He shrugged still unsure of how that can even be himself. "She's right, though. It's her dream. I'm just not sure it's mine."

"Well, then you'll find out. But, I can tell you you won't find the answer to that question in Vegas."

He clenched his jaw tightly feeling defeated.

"If you stay, I promise you I will be right there to next to you to face whatever it is that scares you. You'll find your answers, Luke. We all need a little help sometimes."

He finds himself mulling over what she's said. Leaning down, he picks up his duffle bag and slings it over his shoulder.

"Let's get out of here." He extends his hand waiting for her to take the bait, and when she does he squeezes her hand gingerly before pulling her into a hug.

"Thank you." He whispers into her hair before releasing her.

"No, thank you. Now we can make it home in time for Real Housewives of Orange County." She skips ahead still pulling his hand as she turns around sticking her tongue out at him. And for the first time all time, he genuinely laughs.

And the everyday they had spent together had turned into every night. In all the confusion clouding their lives, they were each other's constants. And lately, she would even spend the night simply enjoying each other's company with a bottle (or two) of wine or simply watching movies together. Tonight was no different, but somehow it felt very, very different.

"You're pretty quiet over there."

"Some would have called that broodiness once upon a time."

He could see through the darkness as she feigned and "ah" at his response.

"So you admit it? You think you're broody? That's a milestone, Luke. I've been trying to nail that in your head for the last six years."

Brooke Davis had this way about her. It was this light, ability to make him laugh even when his mind was strangled by his so called 'broodiness." She made it seem so easy.

"Well… fine. I may potentially… somewhat be broody."

"Ha!" She mocks a laugh. "And I may potentially be the prettiest girl in the room right now."

"You are the prettiest girl in the room."

He catches himself saying it all too quickly and far too seriously at a simple quip made by Brooke.

"I'm the only girl in the room you goof."

"Well, you're the prettiest girl in any room."

He knows that he shifted the otherwise very casual conversation of a few moments ago, but he just can't seem to help it anymore. If the last couple of months have been any indication he remembers exactly why he could never stand to just be friends with Brooke Davis.

And it was all coming to fruition in this moment.

And he wasn't sure if that was okay.

"Thanks, Luke. That was really…" She paused inhaling clearly affected by his words through the element of surprise. "…sweet."

"You are."

He found his left hand creeping forward as he laid on his side looking at her through the darkness his forehead resting on her own. And then before his head caught up with his actions his fingers are grazing the draw string of her Victoria Secret sweat pants and his thumb is tracing circles over her pants.

And the realization dawned on him of exactly what he was doing and he almost braced himself for her to hit him or scream at him or tell him that they were doing so great as friends and why did he need to go and ruin it. He waited for it and he almost shielded himself from her swing. Instead, he felt her scoot closer to him.

"I'm sorry, Brooke. I don't know why I did that. I…"

"Luke, shut up."

He's startled by her response at first, and her mouth is open in a perfect 'o' before she bites down on her bottom lip gingerly. He can feel himself grow slightly hard and he prays that she is unaware of this.

"I know. I mean it I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…"

And she leans forward and kisses him in a wonderful, electric, reminiscent way. She pulls away for just a moment and he's scared that she's changed her mind.

"It doesn't change us being friends. It doesn't change anything. No one knows."

And before he can agree, disagree, or anything in between, she continues kissing him and so he continues as well. And as he slips his hand down her pants, all of his thoughts disintegrate into a moment of complete serendipitous ecstasy.

And here he sat driving her home and he was reeling through the last 94 days and 13 hours since they had first slept together since their high school days. In that time, he found himself doing the thing that they promised each other they wouldn't: he was falling in love with Brooke Davis all over again and he didn't have the slightest inkling of where she stood in all of this. The only slight indicator he may have had if it all was from last week.

He stood over the griddle of Brooke's Viking oven as he cooked over easy eggs and heard the sizzle of bacon. He began to place the eggs and bacon one by one onto a plate as he smiled crookedly while doing so. He immediately knew that Brooke was standing in the doorway. He could almost feel her back there, but he decided to give her the satisfaction of playing dumb. So as he stood there in only his pair of pajama pants, he waited for her to speak.

"I thought you left."

Her voice sounded almost breathless like the thought of this had left her upset mere moments ago. His heart almost skipped a beat. It wasn't as if their time spent together had been non-emotional. It actually had been quite the opposite. However, there had never been a verbal declaration of anything resembling that indicating that she might think such.

These four words with the tinge of almost worry behind them were the first words that may have led him to believe that maybe she was feeling the same thing he was.

He turned around with the spatula extended and saw her leaning against the wall looking into the kitchen. She was standing there in only a sweatshirt, a very familiar sweatshirt. She had always taken a liking to the worn grey hoodie. It made him want to beam in pride that she was wearing his Keith Scott Motors sweat shirt. Instead, he just walked forward and wrapped his arm around her waist.

"And miss you prancing around in only my sweatshirt." He raised a lone eyebrow humorously to which she smiled. "Not a chance."

Leaning up, she kissed him softly on the lips wrapping her arms around his neck. He let his forehead lean atop her own as he smiled against her lips.

"Good." She snuck out of his grasp slapping his butt as she sauntered toward the food. "Because I need a personal chef in my life." Chewing on a piece of bacon, she shrugged her shoulders innocently.

"Personal chef, huh?" He crossed his arms tapping his fingers against his chin. "Does that get me special… compensation?"

"It sure as hell does."

"Sign me up."

"You have yourself a deal, broody boy. Now, eat some breakfast with me."

Wiggling his eyebrows, he made his way over to her as they both began their morning the right way: together.

"That place was pretty cool, right?" She mused aloud setting her phone down in the cupholder.

"Yeah. I liked it a lot."

They had gone to a food festival located on Wrightsville Beach. Under any other circumstances, he would have loved the event. It was gorgeous day with great food and an even better location. And on top of all of that, it had been in the company of Brooke. He's not sure that he could have dreamt up a better scenario. But, instead of holding onto that sentiment, he was drawn to his theory that most of the things they did were amongst themselves in the seclusion of their homes or events that were outside of Tree Hill. He knew her intention. She didn't want to be seen by any of their friends. She was not willing to explain what they were… if they were anything. And the frustration of that was starting to bubble up inside of him. Truth be told, it was not even so much frustration as it was disappointment.

He turned onto the street of her home, and he could sense that she recognized his short answer.

"What's the matter, Luke?"

He wanted to say something, but didn't know if the timing was right. He had been going back and forth with this in his mind. She was leaving for New York tomorrow for two weeks for fashion week. He thought maybe that in those two weeks he would be able to come up with exactly what to say. Who knows maybe the distance would help her see that they were no good apart. But, as he stared forward gripping the steering wheel coming to a park in front of her home, he wasn't quite sure.

"Why did we really go there today? Why do we always choose restaurants outside of town and only see movies at the theater a half hour away? Are you scared someone will see us?"

She looks at him incredulously clearing not expecting his retort.

"What are you even talking about?"

"I'm not an idiot, Brooke. I know that we hang out at home and go to these places because you don't want to be seen. I get that you don't want to answer the questions. And I understand what this is."

His hands fall from the steering wheel into his lap as he prays that his words don't sound ludicrous.

"Or what it's supposed to be anyway."

She stares out the windshield as if she is looking for an out completely from this conversation.

"That wasn't exactly my intention, but I mean what exactly would you say if someone saw us? It's not such an easy conversation piece when Peyton lives a hop, skip, and jump away."

She laughs trying to lighten the mood, but he can see in her eyes that she didn't find it so funny. He knows that the position they've put themselves in weighs heavily on her. Ever since he met her, Brooke Davis has gone above and beyond for her best friend, even when she didn't deserve it. And even though technically they weren't doing anything wrong, he knows that she interpreted it as such.

"I don't know, Brooke. But, Christ, I mean… If anyone said anything, I would answer them honestly."

"And what's the honest answer? You know what this is, Lucas. We're friends, and right now we're having a lot of fun together but it's not any more than that. You know just as well as I do that what we're doing isn't worth the repercussion or… judgment of our friends."

"Is that really all this is to you?" He responds despondently removing his sun glasses and placing them in the cup holder.

"You're timing's impeccable, you know that? Let's start a fight the day before I leave."

"Yeah, I'm doing this because I want to. You're right."

"God! Why do you need to make this more complicated than it is? This is good! It works! Why do you need to do this now?"

He reaches over taking her hand in his own.

"I'll give you that one. It is good. And it could be a hell of a lot better if maybe we just acknowledged it and didn't hide behind it all. If we're being honest here… I love…"

"Stop!" She throws her hands up suddenly removing it from his grasp and her eyes widen in horror.

"Brooke…"

"Stop, Lucas!"

She stands up ripping off her seatbelt and grabbing her purse all in one motion before opening the car door. She stands there with the door open, and stares back at him with red rimmed eyes.

"This isn't what this was. And it's really not fair for you to say that." She stares down trying to regain her composure. "Do not follow me. I'll see you when I get home."'

"Fuck." He mutters and he quickly removes his keys from the ignition as he jumps out of the car. Lightly jogging he looks up to her as she opens her door.

"I mean it, Luke! We need some space. I'll see you when I get home, okay? I promise. Please. Not now… please."

He lunges up the first two steps before hearing the thunderous slam of her door and he pivots in the opposite direction kicking the ground. Placing his hands on his hips, he stares down in defeat and frustration.

XXXX

It had been eight days since she had left; eight days of excruciating waiting. He was trying to give her as much space as he possibly could, but that was proving to be futile to his sanity. So, as he scrolled through the lone pool of blue texts on their iMessages indicating that only he had been texting her, he began to feel restless.

He closed his phone only to see another iMessage appear from Peyton. Tossing his phone, he laid back against his bed. When he returned from his near departure to Vegas, he had answered Peyton's river court plea with one of his own. He had told her that in all the craziness of the past year he needed to take things slowly. And that started with friendship.

They had done their best to make things as normal as possible. It wasn't as if he was ignoring her. He certainly wasn't. They talked often; very often. He felt as close with her as ever. In the beginning, his whole situation with Brooke had left him more confused than ever. Slowly but surely, though, his confusion was making way to confidence. The answers he had been looking for were becoming much apparent. He wasn't quite sure how to tell that to Peyton though.

"Brooke, come on. Answer me." He was talking to himself as he held his phone to his head.

The sound of his ring tone filled his room and he nearly launched into a seated position to read the call information.

Nathan.

He debate whether or not to answer, but figured he could use the much needed distraction.

"Hey Nate. What's up, man?"

"Hey, I just got a call from the hospital. It's uhm…"

His heart sunk at this.

"Are you okay? Are Jamie and Haley okay?"

"They're fine. They're fine. It's … Dan."

XXXX

He followed Nathan with tentative steps as they made their way through the halls of intensive care unit. With each step, he felt his feet grow heavier and heavier. He can hear Nathan mutter something about finally reaching the room. As his brother continues to move forward, he freezes in place.

With everything already weighing on his mind, this was the last thing he needed. He looks up to see Nathan's previous robotic expression turn to one of empathy.

"I'm not uh… I'm not sure I can do this."

He watches as Nathan nods slowly digging his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

"Look, if you don't want to, then there's not a single person that will blame you for it. I sure as hell wouldn't. But, I know you, Luke. I know the man you are, and something tells me that if you don't go in there then you'll look back and feel differently than you do right now."

His eyes wander through the glass dividing door separating them from their father. His father, the larger than life Dan Scott, was lying in a hospital bed draped with wires and IV lines. His strong father looked weak. Even in his hate toward Dan, he couldn't ignore the apparent decline of his father.

A nurse came toward them exiting the room and drawing the curtain before stopping before them.

"Are you boys here for Mr. Scott?"

"Yeah." He's thankful Nathan jumped in to answer the question because he found himself unable. "We're his sons. I'm sorry I didn't get much information over the phone."

"He asked us to call you earlier. Your father was admitted with what we evaluated to be end stage heart failure. Through an admission assessment, we determined he hadn't been compliant with his medication and had decided to forgo corrective surgery about four months back. His heart just isn't strong enough to pump the adequate amount of blood flow and it has essentially led to a domino effect among his kidneys and liver. We're doing everything we can do to keep him comfortable, but at this present time you're father has a progressively declining prognosis." He can see the nurse is tip toeing around relaying them this information, and is doing her best to be ginger in revealing this information. "I know this is a very difficult thing to hear and our staff is here should you have any questions or needs at all."

"Thank you very much. Is it okay if we go in?"

"Yes. Absolutely. He has a bed alarm at his bedside if you need anything at all and our nurses' station is just directly down this hall."

The nurse beings to walk past them, and he finally finds his voice.

"How long?"

"Excuse me, Mr. Scott?"

"How long does he have?"

"It could happen at any time. He simply didn't get the treatment he needed when he needed it. I'm very sorry."

Dan was dying.

He watched as Nathan ran his hand over his jawline clearly affected by the information they had just received. His eyes begin to sting as he feels tears rise to the surface. He never thought he would see the day when Dan would succumb to anything. Even to his own dismay at times, he just didn't think he would ever see the day his father would die.

That's when his heart ached to have Brooke by his side in this.

"Nate, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I uhm…" Nathan shakes his head, and he can relate to his loss of words. "I'm just glad we're in this together man."

Extending his hand, his brother pounded his knuckles into his own softly.

"We're in this together, little brother."

They both stand idly hesitant to be the first to see their father.

"Nate, I'm going to head in."

"Do you want me to come with you?"

"Not yet. I have some things I want to say first."

"I'll be right here if you need anything, Luke."

He entered the room to see his father as a shell of the man he knew. He was lying in bed clearly fatigued as his face was shrouded underneath an oxygen mask.

"Lucas." His father's apparent shock does not garner sympathy. For a moment, he wonders why he is even here. Then, he is reminded of exactly why.

Keith.

Keith was the best man he ever knew. He was the man that he aspired to be each and every day. Whatever act of evil Dan may have committed, he knows in his heart that Keith would have wanted him to be here.

"Lucas, please sit." He maneuvers himself in bed eliciting the beeping of the monitor. Taking off his oxygen mask, he grimaces.

"Dan, you shouldn't take that off."

"It's fine. It's fine."

Silence looms between the two of them, and he feels lost. He was saddened by the complete disintegrated relationship he shared with his father.

"Lucas, I'm so happy that …"

"Why didn't you take your medication? Why say no to surgery?" He keeps his distance at the foot of the bed.

"Do you know how many people are waiting on the transplant list? Good people. People with families; families who they haven't pushed away. People who deserve them… not monsters like me."

"What's your angle, Dan? Do you want me to feel sorry for you? What is it that you want?"

He watches his father's bottom lip tremble momentarily, and he nods once staring back at him. He never fell for his father's sentimental acting. In the time that he knew his father, he knew that most things he did were very calculated. But, there was something different in his eyes. His eyes showed sincerity, and it made him uneasy.

"I didn't call you here for you feel sorry for me. I didn't even call you to ask for your forgiveness. I know that I made my bed and I deserve to lay in it. I just can't leave this world knowing that you didn't know how truly sorry I am."

"I've never understood how. How could you do that to him?" He realizes that his eyes are rimmed with tears and he refuses to cry in front of him.

"I spent so much of my life a bitter man. I had it all, and yet I had nothing at all. The day I shot Keith I was in a dark place. I was convinced that he had tried to kill me. I lost your brother, divorced Deb. My life was spiraling downwards. And meanwhile, Keith was building a new life with my high school sweet heart and the son that I abandoned. Every time I looked at him I felt like I was punched in the gut." His father began crying and he watched as he became short of breath gasping for air firmly pressing the oxygen mask to his face.

"What happened in that hallway?" He narrows his eyes at him.

"Keith wanted to go into the school to save that kid, so I let him go hoping that he'd get shot. Let him be the hero as long as he was the dead hero. And then I thought why should he be the hero. It can be me, so I followed him in. Jimmy was crying and Keith was telling him it gets better; that pain in your heart, the voice in your head that tells you there's no way out, it's over. It gets better. And I felt like he was talking to me. In that moment, maybe the most heroic, kindest moment of my big brother's life, I hated him. I hated him more than anyone or anything because nothing had gotten better. That pain was still in my heart. That voice in my head that said there was no way out was right. And he was standing there lying to me. After Jimmy died, I picked up the gun and I aimed it at Keith. And all I could think of was that everything that had gone wrong in my life was his fault. And it wasn't going to get better until he was gone. Just pull the trigger. So, I pulled that trigger, and it didn't end. It got worse."

Listening to Dan chronicle the events of his uncle's untimely death was enough to cut his heart right in two.

"I wish every single day I could take it back. I can still see it. I can't sleep at night. I just see it. I'm sorry for that day and every day before it. I didn't elect to have surgery or anything like that because I deserve this. I deserve whatever happens to me when I die. I just want you to know that I wish I could do things differently. I wish I was the father to you that you always deserved. And I wish I didn't take away the one man who ever truly was one to you. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

His father tries to catch his breath as the conversation has clearly caught up to his respiratory efforts. Dan is sobbing and he is as well. After a moment of bartering with whether or not to help him, he finally walks forward propping up two pillows behind him and sitting him up. Dan merely stares back at him in wide eyed shock as the two men simply linger in the silence between one another.

"I wish he was still here with you with you and Lily and your mom. He raised you to be a hell of a man, Lucas. I may have been a terrible father, but you have grown into being the man that I never was. I'm so proud that you are everything that I am not."

He places his hand over Lucas' forearm, and he stares down with trepidation at this.

"You're a good man. I don't deserve to ask for anything from you. I just ask that you don't make the same mistakes that I did. I loved your mother so much. I got stuck. Instead of just admitting how wrong I was and that I never should have left, I kept running. If you love someone Lucas, then please don't make the same mistakes that I did. Don't be scared. Being afraid isn't a weakness. It just means you were man enough to admit to your mistakes. Don't end up a bitter man. Don't give yourself a reason to be bitter. Find the woman that makes you happy, and build a family with her. You deserve every happiness in this world, son."

He felt one single tear run down his cheek as he sat down in the bedside chair next to the bed. For the first time in his entire life, he can almost relate to his father.

He can't really attribute any reason as to what happens next. A rush of warmth washes through him; a tangible, physical warmth. In that moment, the anger that had weighed so heavily on his shoulders for so many years lessens. And he swears that he can feel his uncle. That very apparition was urging him to do the one thing that had haunted him for all too long: forgive.

His index and middle finger crawl forward as he places his hand atop Dan's.

"I forgive you." It took nearly all of his strength to utter the words.

Dan begins to cry once again and he hears an accelerated beeping on the machine indicating that his oxygen levels had fallen. As the nurse rushes in to reapply his oxygen mask and reassess him, he continues to hold his father's hand soothing him and telling him that it will be okay.

The screen monitoring his heart rate zig zags in crazed rhythms and the nurse is working diligently to stabilize him. He watches as Dan stares back at him with fearful eyes, and he says the only thing that feels right.

"It's going to get better, Dan. The voice in your head is wrong. You're going to be fine. I'm right here. It's going to get better."

And all the beeping begins to stabilize as Dan closes his eye drifting off to sleep. He remained there until Nathan came into the room simply holding his hand and crying.

Exiting the room, he collapsed against the hospital wall burying his face in his hands. Pulling out his phone, he open his text messages and began typing.

Dan's dying I need you Brooke I need you so much