Someday

by singsongsung

The aftermath of 5x12. Lucas/Peyton. Her mind focuses on a single thing – that same voice, the one that whispered in her ear as lips touched her neck – saying something so much different: “I do.”

Someday

A/N: My first One Tree Hill fic, takes place directly after 5.12, "Hundred", if Lindsey hadn't left Lucas at the altar. Please review. Read on!

The sun seems to be on a mission as it cuts through a small hole in one of the curtains. A single ray of sunlight finds its way directly to her face, turning the world behind her eyelids technicolour.

The swirls of colour immediately nauseate her, and she sits up straight before leaning over the bed, her chest heaving as she vomits into a bucket, conveniently placed directly by the bed. As she chokes on the bitter taste in her mouth, she feels gentle hands gather her curls away from her face. "I've got you, Sawyer," a kind voice says, a hint of amusement evident within it despite its sympathetic quality.

Burying her aching head in her hands, she murmurs, "Nathan?" She's already disoriented, and this doesn't help. It's literally been over seven years since she heard Nathan Scott's voice this early in the morning.

"Oh, honey, you're awake," a familiar, maternal voice says, though the affectionate term surprises her a little. She feels a cool hand push her curls away to press against her forehead.

"Hales, she's hungover," Nathan says patiently. "She doesn't have the flu."

Peyton can only imagine the scathing look he's receiving over her head.

"Sorry, sorry," he mutters as he lets go of her hair, placing a strong, supportive hand on her back. She leans back into his touch a little. Her relationship with Nathan was a vicious break-up make-up cycle, but there is something about the presence of the bad-boy-turned-good-guy, lover-turned-friend that comforts her in a way that little else could. She breathes deeply, knowing it's only a matter of time before she pukes again, and leans further into Nathan's arms. He pulls her to him comfortingly, resting his chin on her head.

Haley holds out a glass of water with a painfully bright orange straw in it. "Drink up, okay?"

Peyton shakes her head, not wanting to risk swallowing anything else.

Haley raises her eyebrows. "Peyton Elizabeth Sawyer," she says sternly, morphing into full on mom-mode, "You are way too dehydrated to start refusing water. Drink this right now, or I swear, I'm taking you to the hospital."

"C'mon," Nate adds, low in her ear, nudging her shoulder lightly. With shaky hands, she accepts the tall glass. Haley keeps a hand under the bottom to steady it, looking at Peyton with concerned eyes.

After she downs at least half the glass, Peyton lets Haley take the glass back and massages her temples, letting her hair hide her face again. "Where's Jamie?" she asks, surprised at how raw her voice sounds.

Haley smiles fondly as she places the glass within reach. "He and Brooke passed out together around one. They're both still dead to the world."

Rubbing her eyes again, Peyton asks, "Brooke stayed over?"

"Yeah, honey, um…Skills did, too."

"Wh…why?"

They exchange a look, talking with their eyes over Peyton's head. "You guys are so parental," she grouches, her voice raspy.

Nathan stifles a laugh, she can feel it in his chest. "Yeah, maybe," he agrees, still speaking to Haley without actually saying a word. Peyton thinks about how they're communicating, with the smallest of gestures, the gentlest of looks, and marvels at how wonderful it is to be able to communicate with someone like that. Something about that thought makes her heart break a little, and a tear she didn't know she was holding in slides down her cheek.

Haley notices, because she's the one facing her, and her eyes widen with such intense concern that Peyton has to look down. "Oh, honey. Peyton…are you okay?"

"I'm gonna be sick," she mutters, and again, Nathan's hands hold her hair and Haley hands her the glass of water afterward.

"Sawyer," Nathan begins gently, but Peyton shakes her head stubbornly.

"I just want to sleep."

Haley can deal with that very easily, much more easily than anything else. "Sure, sweetie, of course. Do you want another pillow? Do you have too many blankets? Here, let me get you more water." She hurries off.

Peyton lies back down, nestling into the many pillows she'd been propped up on the night before. "Nathan…" she says faintly.

"Yeah?"

"What happened last night?" she asks, feeling tired, so tired.

Nathan stands, shifting uncomfortably. "Peyton, I…" he sighs. He leans over her, touching her cheek protectively, and places a light, chaste kiss on her forehead. "Just go to sleep right now."

Her eyelids are so heavy she has no choice but to let them close. She can't help but smile a bit, a wry twitch of her lips, and she peeks back at him through her eyelashes. "That bad, huh?" she whispers.

When she wakes up again Mouth is sitting next to her, and her hand is clasped between both of his. Mouth is so incredibly dependable. Not always, perhaps, but he is the most stable person she's ever known. He holds her hand like she's in the hospital, and all he wants is for her to get better, and she knows that he loves her. Love in its purest, most innocent form. The thought makes her dry lips pull upward.

"Hey, a smile," Mouth says softly. "That's always good, huh?"

"Mm," she agrees sleepily, pushing herself into a sleeping position. "Water?" she asks. Her voice sounds a little stronger than it did before.

He takes his hands off of hers and hands her a new glass, this time with a pink straw and Winnie the Pooh waving cheerily at her from its side. Jamie's glass, undoubtedly. As she takes a sip, she misses the warmth of his hands around hers. Carefully, she edges her hand back over to his, and is relieved at how quickly he takes hold of it again. She knows, from the look in his eyes, that she is a complete and utter emotional mess. At the moment, though, she is still too hungover, too exhausted to let the reasons for her grief flood back in. For now, she'll take the comfort. Later, she doesn't know what she'll need.

"What time is it?" she asks softly. "Where is everyone?"

"It's almost eight o'clock," Mouth answers softly. "You slept pretty much all day. When Millicent and I came by she took Brooke out to…to run some errands and stuff. Skills went off to find Bevin, Jamie's sound asleep again."

"Nathan? And Haley?"

"Haley…had some stuff she needed to do. Nathan's grabbing some food. We hoped you'd wake up soon."

Peyton half-scowls at him. "Are you on watch duty or something?"

Mouth hesitates, but Nathan comes to his rescue. "Leave it," he instructs softly, handing her a plate. "Comfort food," he says with a small smile, but the sight of the food on the plate does not comfort her, but throws her over the edge.

Chocolate chip cookies. Two of them, the eyes, with a whipped-cream smile drawn underneath. Something they'd do for Jamie. Or a friend they're worried about. But cookies remind her of that one day in her kitchen, with chocolate chips all over the place and Luke…Lucas. Her true love. Always. Forever. "How'd you like to just…be happy?" That beautiful look of hope in his eyes.

She feels her sobs coming before she realizes how badly she needs to cry. Everything happens at once: the plate falls, a strangled cry escapes her throat, and both Mouth and Nathan touch her shoulders as her mind focuses on a single thing – that same voice, the one that whispered in her ear as lips touched her neck – saying something so much different: "I do."

"Mouth," Nathan begins, and he says something more, but she can't hear him through her own tears. She feels Nathan pull her, gently, to his chest and wrap his arms around her, hoping that holding her will calm her a little. Nathan has good arms, safe arms…arms that he must have inherited, because they feel much too much like his brother's.

She fights him off, trying to form some kind a clear thought. A game plan. For the moment, for the next day, and for…ever. She has to learn to live a different way but she can't, she can't, she needs him.

Nathan is panicking. She can feel the stress and the confusion in the air around her, and she feels so horrible for being the source. Somewhere, between the tears she can't stop crying, she says, "I'm so sorry."

"Shh, shh," Nathan replies, his hand on her cheek, trying to get her to meet his eyes. "It's okay. Don't be. It's okay."

She shakes her head stubbornly. It's not and she knows it's not. There is no such thing as okay anymore. She has lost everything.

Haley stands in the doorway of Peyton's room, eyes full of worry and surprise. No one had called her, clearly, to tell her that the slowly breaking girl had finally cracked. She looks weary, like she's had a hard day.

"Hales," Nathan says desperately. He doesn't know what to do anymore.

Haley slides off her sweater quickly and kneels on the floor in front of Peyton. "Hey. Honey. Shh. Look at me. Peyton, hey. Look at me." She grabs both of Peyton hands and takes a deep breath. Peyton, gasping for air, does the same.

"Hey, okay, that's good," Haley says, impossible kindness in her voice. "Shh. Let's just breathe for a second, okay? Just breathe."

But she can't. She thinks about the last three years of her life. She lived in limbo. Waiting, waiting. And finally, she just couldn't wait any longer. He wasn't coming to her. So she went to him.

Maybe it would have been easier, if the first time she'd seen him, his eyes hadn't been like they were. There was hurt there. Hurt from a broken heart, caused by Peyton Sawyer. But also, guarded in the depths of his eyes, love. The same love she'd seen there since the very first time they really looked at each other. The moment she fell in love with him.

Haley's eyes scan Peyton's face worriedly as she keeps breathing, working as an example. She throws her husband a quick glance. Neither of them knows what to do.

"What's wrong?" Jamie stands in the doorway, bleary-eyed but shocked. "What's wrong with Aunt Peyton?"

"Stop!" Haley says quickly, her protective instinct taking control. The plate only broke into three pieces, but she doesn't want her baby anywhere near them.

"I got it, Hales." Nathan steps forward, approaching his son and blocking Jamie's view of Peyton. "She's just a little sad right now, buddy," he says kindly, picking the four-year-old up easily.

"I'm so sorry," Peyton says again, still breathing heavily. It's gotten very hard to fill her lungs.

"Feel better!" Jamie calls sweetly as Nathan swiftly carries him out. Peyton sobs once at his words.

Haley's looking at her sadly. "Peyton. You and Lucas are the two biggest idiots I know, and you are clinging so hard and sometimes, yeah, I've resented you for doing that…but I can't understand what you feel, and I know that now, and I…maybe you don't have a right to cry over him anymore, but it doesn't matter. We're you're friends, okay? We love you, and we're here. It's okay."

"It's not," she whispers, looking down.

"Oh, P. Sawyer." Brooke leans against the doorframe, sympathy easy to find in her half-smile. She looks weary the same way Haley does, as if the world has hit her with too much today. "Come here," she says, crossing the room in quick steps to engulf her best friend in a hug. "I'm so sorry, baby," she says earnestly, pressing her lips to Peyton's forehead. "Hales…give us a minute? You look like you could use a nap."

"Not a bad idea," Haley agrees tiredly, pushing herself to her feet as she picks what was once a plate. "But I can't sleep yet. Let me know if you need me."

Brooke nods, her chin bumping Peyton's head. Haley closes the door gently behind her.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here earlier," Brooke says softly. "Mouth came to get me right away."

"You look tired, B. I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing," Brooke orders kindly. "Oh, honey, I know this is so hard for you to believe right now, but it's going to be okay."

"But he's…he's…" Peyton pauses and attempts to get a hold of herself. "He's all I have. All I…" it took four seconds for her to gather up the strange the say the last word: "had."

"Hey, no. God, girl, how many times do I need to reinforce this? You have me. You always have me. You've had me since that night when we were eight and we sat under that bridge for hours and hours. I'm always here, P."

Peyton sighs tiredly. "Always is seeming like a stupider word all the time, Brooke."

Brooke smiles sadly. "But I mean it, Peyton. I do."

Her best friend stares at her hands. "Not the same."

Brooke nudges Peyton's shoulder with her own. "Hey, I know, but I try. It's a little hard for me to match the great love of your life."

A fresh batch of tears spills down her cheeks. "Not mine anymore."

"Bitch, please," Brooke scolds with a somewhat exasperated sigh. "I don't care who Lucas Scott is with, I don't care who he's engaged to, and it doesn't make any difference to me who the hell he's married to. I know that boy, Peyton, and I know you do too. He loves you. He's gonna love you forever."

Peyton casts Brooke a sceptical look. "Love me but not marry me."

"Yeah, well, we all know that Lucas doesn't always know how to show his emotions."

Peyton presses her lips together so hard that they turned white. "It's over," she says, in such a soft whisper that Brooke, whose ear is inches from Peyton's lips, struggles to hear her.

"I know you can't believe it right now, P, but one that, that boy will be yours. If you can, Peyton, then move on. You deserve it, and hell, Lucas deserves to fight for you for once. But one day. I promise you. You told him, didn't you, someday?"

"But someday is now, Brooke. Someday was last year, even."

"Maybe for you, babe. But not for him. I know, I really do, how much it hurts to see Lucas Scott be his cutesy, love-y self with someone else, but you need to believe in someday, Sawyer. He told the entire world that he would love you forever. That's true love, right?"

"Brooke, if he really loved me he wouldn't have proposed to someone else like ten minutes after we kissed."

"Luke's an ass, honey, I get it…but he's an ass who's gonna love you for always. I'm sorry he married her, P. Sawyer. I'm sorry it wasn't you. But someday it will be."

"I don't…want to be responsible for the end of them. I've already done that to you and Lucas too many times."

Brooke's smile is knowing as she hands Peyton a tissue. "It's so easy to blame you, then, to make you the other woman, to make it seem like you're stealing him away. But it's his fault when you really look at it. He can't commit to you right now, and he's burying feelings and history and love. One day it'll come back. Someday."

"It's…it's hard. To live like that. Waiting for him."

Brooke gently wipes her thumbs under Peyton's eyes, drying her cheeks. "But you're going to. You're not going to go out there and find some guy who'll worship you. You're going to wait for him because you know it's going to happen."

Peyton swallows hard. "Every day, I think of him. When I wake up and right before I fall asleep and everywhere in between."

Brooke's sage smile grows as she says, "Trust me, P. He thinks of you, too. Not that much, maybe, but at those random moments, in the middle of the day…in those moments of clarity," she smiles. "He thinks of you."

Peyton nods slowly and decides to believe her. Deep down, perhaps, she knows it's true, but her heart has been hurt too many times.

"Lie down," Brooke says calmly, quietly. "Just rest, and tomorrow you can get up and get back to the world. For now, just rest." She gently nudges Peyton down so that her friend is sprawled across the bed, her head in Brooke's lap.

Peyton presses her face into the denim covering Brooke's knee and inhales deeply. Brooke's stroking her hair, running her hands through the tangled curls. "Thank you for taking care of me, B."

"Well," Brooke says lightly, "your usual saviour just jetted off to Fiji, so I figured I should step in." After a moment, she adds, "That's where Haley and Millicent and I were today. Seeing them off. Luke was worried about you."

"Brooke, I…I can't. Not right now."

"Okay," Brooke whispers, and just keeps stroking her hair.

"You're gonna be good mom, B. Davis."

There is quiet for moment before Brooke's voice, full of emotion, says, "Thank you." Then, oh-so-softly, she adds, "You too, P. When you finally have those blonde, broody, beautiful babies."

"Someday…" Peyton murmurs, one last tear falling down her cheek.

The next morning, when she gets up, Brooke is gone, and she is tucked securely beneath several blankets. Next to her head, there's a note that reads:

P. Sawyer:

I think you're going to be asleep for a while. I didn't want to wake you. Emotional exhaustion and all that. You're gonna be fine. Nathan and Haley will take care of you.

Don't worry. I ran out to talk to the wedding photographer yesterday and made sure that all embarrassing shots of you have been deleted. Lucas needs to remember you as the sexy girl you were before you broke down, kissed Mouth (on the mouth), gave a short but dramatic reading of a couple paragraph's from Lucas' book, and passed out after declaring your intention to commit suicide by eating too much cake. But really. Don't worry about it.

It's going to be okay, Peyton. Someday, okay?

I'll see you back at home.

You always have me and I always love you,

B. Davis

"Okay," she says to herself as she throws back the blankets and gets out of bed. She takes a shower, borrows sweats from Nathan and t-shirt from Haley, and attempts to get her curls to cooperate. She gives Jamie a bear hug goodbye, lets Haley tame her hair and kiss her temple, and clings to Nathan long enough for him to assure her that everything will be fine.

She goes back home and rids her room of anything that reminds her of Lucas. She makes a salad so that Brooke will have something to eat when she comes home. She goes to Red Bedroom Records and stands in the doorway for a while. This is her space now. She has to be comfortable there.

She wants to throw out the bamboo, put instead puts it on the back of a shelf, concealed by her records.

She breathes. She lives. She avoids the river court, but she still goes to Karen's Café on the days she feels strong enough. She hugs Brooke when she's waiting to hear from adoption agencies. She babysits Jamie every Saturday afternoon, and spends half her nights with Brooke at home, half at Tric so that Brooke and Owen can have privacy. Almost always, there's a new guy, some who repulse her, others who tug at her heartstrings. Most of them, she sends away. But sometimes, just sometimes, if there's enough balance there, she'll go home with them. They can't be too much like Lucas, but they can't be too different. If they remind her of Jake, she'll take it. It's never serious, though. It can't be. Once or twice, they come back. They call. Chase her down the streets with flowers. Beg for "just one date, just dinner, Peyton, please". She has to meet their eyes, hold their gaze, and tell them no. They need to look at her and realize how broken she is. And finally, they leave.

Brooke doesn't quite understand what she's doing, or why she's doing it, but she lets her be. They shop and they laugh and they cook together some nights and watch chick flicks. Peyton supports her with the whole adoption thing, always takes her side against Victoria, and listens to her whenever she needs to talk about Owen. In return, she doesn't judge. She supports Peyton with her label, tries to help her learn how to cook, and picks her up at the graveyard in the middle of night if that's what she needs. It's the most peaceful their friendship has been in years, and though she worries about Peyton – worrying about Peyton is about as natural as brushing her teeth – she doesn't argue with her friends choices.

On a sunny day in May two years after Lucas' wedding, she can't help but interfere. She has a daughter now, an almost-one-year-old with big brown eyes and perfect smile, and she has Owen, and she is unbelievably happy. Her happiness is so wonderful that she wants it for Peyton, too, so badly. And when Haley calls, her tone giving away her bad news before she even gets to it, Brooke can't be sad about it.

"Hey, rock star!" she cries the moment Peyton opens the door. She looks good. Pretty. Happy. Successful. Only a little bit empty.

And Peyton even smiles, as she asks, "What the hell is wrong with you?" before swooping the little girl up into her arms and cooing at her.

Brooke grins back at her. "Nothing is wrong!" she trills, and sing-songs, "Guess who just got di-vorrrrced!"

Peyton freezes as she settles Brooke's daughter onto her hip. "What?" she asks softly.

Brooke's eyebrows shoot up suggestively. "A certain broody boy is back on the market, and just waiting, I'm sure, to be swept away."

"I…did he tell you?"

"No, Haley called."

Peyton gives her a look. "Did you sound as happy about it as you do right now?"

"Oh shut up, P. Sawyer, you know this is fantastic."

"Brooke! The fact that I love him means that I'm not happy, I'm sad. He must be a wreck."

Brooke points an accusing finger in her face. "Please, Peyton. You know that beyond all your angst, your heart is totally all over this."

Peyton shakes her head, unwilling to agree, and hands the toddler back to Brooke carefully. "I have to call him."

"Hell yeah you do!" Brooke agrees, smiling down at her daughter.

Peyton walks back out the door and goes back to work. Her heart feels closer to him there, a place where they have been together. She sits down in her chair, places her tired feet, encased in leather boots, atop her desk, and pulls out her cell phone. She dials his number slowly, carefully – lovingly, even.

He has caller ID, she knows that. And she also knows that she's probably one of the last people he wants to talk to right now, which he's clearly shown by asking Haley to tell Brooke. For those reasons, she is not surprised that his phone rings eight full times before his voicemail picks up: Congratulations, you've reached Lucas Scott. Leave your info and I'll get back to you.

Her breath catches in her throat as her heart leaps. It's reminiscent of her own message greeting from high school. You've reached Peyton, congratulations. His life, her life. So intertwined, right down to their stupid voicemail greetings.

The loud beep jars her back to reality. She waits two seconds afterward before saying, in a calm, delicate voice, "I'm sorry." And she does what she does best when it comes to the man she loves. She waits.

Four minutes. A long, drawn-out stretch of time that would normally pass unnoticed. That's how long it takes before he picks up the phone. She's surprised that his message machine will even let someone leave a message that long. She waits, with baited breath, for his words, and when he finally speaks, she melts.

"I'm sorry too," is what he says.

"Okay," she breathes, her heart beating rapidly.

"Peyton, I…" There is another long wait. "I want to but I…" Again, he stops. "I can't do this yet."

"I know," she says calmly, soothingly.

"Not yet," he repeats, a hitch in his voice.

"It's okay, Luke," she whispers, running her finger slowly down the spine of one of the many copies of his book she owns. "Someday."

"Someday, somehow, gonna make it alright -- but not right now." -- Nickelback, "Someday"

A/N: Review please!