Hey...

Summary: Lucas abandon Brooke and their unborn child, but what happens when he returns in an attempt to salvage his relationship with his son? Does Brooke let him back into their lives? Does he get his life he always wanted but was too scared to have?

Please read and tell me what you think. Thanks.
Flashbacks are in italics.

We Were Kids
Chapter 1

The girl sat in the cold hard chair, her eyes fixed intently on the boy that he once knew. The moonlight filtered in past the blinds, casting a shadow across his face. She watched desperately as he fidgeted restlessly in the hospital bed, his brow moist with sweat, his lips curled into a frown. His arms thrashed about as he twisted her body around, the stiff sheets tangling with his limbs.

She wanted to reach out to him, touch him, hold him, but she couldn't. She couldn't stop replaying his last words in her head, the ones that most likely sealed their fate. He had made it clear, and yet, she had to see him, if for at least one last time.

She couldn't stop his voice from filling her head as she sat in the chair watching him sleep. She remembered the day completely; every second was seared into her mind.

He stood in front of her, both standing in the middle of the street. The cold rain was falling around them, splashing on top of them, clouding their vision, but neither moved from their spot. This would be the moment that decided their fate, right then and there. Whatever happened would change their lives completely.

He had dreaded this moment, dreaded the choice he had to make. His whole future would be decided by this one moment; would he follow his dreams or would he follow his heart? He didn't want to have to choose between the two, but right then, right there, she was forcing him to.

'I need to know!' She yelled as the thunder clapped loudly above them. She was making him choose. She was supposed to be the only love of his life, he had stood at the alter and declared that to her. And yet, there was another love, one that he couldn't ignore; it itched at him constantly until he could no longer deny it. The love of the game. The game that he had dreamt about as a child, the one shot he had at a real future. 'Whatever choice you make today is gonna affect the rest of you're life." She spoke to him.

He nodded, his hair plastered to his forehead as the rain dripped down to his lips. His eyes had met hers, and she could see it, she knew what he would choose. "I…I have to go." He said clasping her hand in his. And at that moment, her body became numb. Had she been crazy to actually think that maybe, just maybe, he would choose her?

Slowly he let her hand fall as the lightening above streaked across the sky and was soon followed by a loud boom as he stepped backwards. He stepped back gradually and she stood motionless, powerless to stop him. The boy that had one her heart over on many occasions was walking away; walking away from her, walking away from their love, and walking away from their marriage. He turned around slowly, his back now facing her, and still she said nothing, she did nothing. She stood in the rain watching his retreating form disappear into the darkness of the night leaving her standing there alone, her heart lying in pieces on the wet road.

She couldn't explain why she had come, why she needed to see him. She had worked so hard over the past two years to push him out of her life. And she was doing a good job at it. But somehow, when she got that call, everything came crashing back. She hadn't really thought about it, she just packed the luggage and was on the next flight to see him.

And as she sat here in the stark hospital room, watching him sleep, she couldn't help but question why. Why had she come? He had walked away from her. But she knew why, why she was sitting there now. The answer was simple; she still loved him and always would. And no matter how hard she tried, she could never pry her heart from his hands.

"Brooke." He mumbled between varied grunts and moans. Her head jerked up at her name, her eyes now fixed on his face. He trashed some more, his movements become more violent.

She found herself hovering over him, her hand resting against his cheek. His jerking ceased, his body fell still, and his eyes slowly fluttered open. She instantly regretted it as his piercing blue eyes met hers. His hand rose slowly and rested on top of hers, and like it had in the past, sparks shot through him into her.

"I didn't think you would come." He whispered hoarsely. She licked her suddenly dry lips as his curled into a small smile. His eyes cut into hers, seeing past them and into her soul.

"I…I have to go." She stuttered the words he had spoke to her so long ago. She let her fingers graze across his cheek as she stepped backwards towards the door. He tried to grasp her in his hands, but she pulled away quickly. And like he had done, she turned her back and walked out.

His heart beat brokenly, literally and metaphorically, inside his chest. But he knew he deserved it. Karma had come crashing down on him, suffocating him below it. She had only done what he had done first.

She walked briskly down the abandoned halls, willing herself to keep the tears in. He didn't deserve her tears. Her phone vibrated in her pocket, the caller id reading the one person she had kept in touch with. "Yeah." She spoke shakily into the phone. She hung up a few minutes later and made her way to the familiar house.

She pushed open the door, shaking her head as she shut it quietly behind her. "In here." The easily recognizable voice called from the adjoining room. She walked quietly in, a smile appearing on her face as she saw the person.

"P. Sawyer." She squealed as quietly she could as she embraced the blonde woman. "I've missed you so much."

"Me too." Peyton smiled lovingly as she hugged the brunette back. They released, smiles plastered on both of their faces. "Oh, why I called…" She said leading Brooke up the stairs and into a room. "He wouldn't sleep until you where here."

"Hey buddy." Brooke said kneeling next to the small bed that sat in the middle of the room. "Mommy's here now. Close your eyes and go to sleep." She whispered as she pulled the blankets over the small boy.

He yawned and curled himself into the blankets. She watched as his blue eyes slowly shut and he drifted off to sleep. "He looks just like him." Peyton whispered from the doorway. There was no denying it; he was a miniature version of his father. She ran her hand through his sandy-blonde hair as she laid a light kiss upon his cheek.

She stood up quietly and followed Peyton back into the living room. Peyton sat next to Jake; Brooke sat across from them in a chair. "He's going to find out." Peyton spoke softly. "What are you going to do then?"

"Honestly, I don't know." Brooke answered.

"I can't imagine not knowing about Jenny." Jake stated. "I still don't understand why you never told him."

"Because." Brooke tried to explain. She knew no one would ever fully understand her reason. "He chose basketball over me. He walked away from me, and in turn, walked away from Ryan. It was his choice, not mine."

"But he never knew!" Jake argued rather loudly. Peyton nudged him in the side and he quickly quieted down. "He didn't know about Ryan."

"I know that." Brooke replied with a sigh. "He would have stayed if he knew; his worst fear is becoming Dan. But it's not right if he only stays because he has to. He should want to stay."

"I dunno." Jake said with a shrug. "The Lucas Scott I know just doesn't seem like a guy who would do that. I just find it hard to understand why he did."

"I wasn't enough for him. I wasn't enough to make him stay." Brooke whispered sadly as the memories once again flooded her mind. "Anyway, I'm going to head off to bed. I'll see you guys in the morning."

"Night Brooke." Peyton called after her. Brooke waved as she walked up the stairs and into the guest bedroom. She plopped herself down onto the bed, her eyes landing on her son. He was what she lived for during the past two years. She loved him with all of her heart, but sometimes could help but feel the sadness that he reminded her of.

In every possible way he was like his father. He inherited his looks, his mind, and his love for basketball. Even at the young age of two the boy always had a ball in his hands. She just hoped that her son would never let the game get in the way of his life like it did to hers. "I love you baby." She whispered as she drifted off to sleep.