A/N: Everything up to and including 3.16 is canon; Deals with the aftermath of the shooting, but with a twist. I know, there are a lot of fanfics with this storyline, but it wouldn't leave me alone until I committed to paper (screen!).
Title of the story comes from a lyric in "First Time" by Lifehouse. chapter title comes from a lyric in "Don't Stop Believin'" by Journey; none of which I can claim as mine.
I don't own One Tree Hill or it's characters, merely the journey I choose to take them on. Hope you enjoy it!
Ch 1: Livin' Just To Find Emotion
If I say…I love you…right now, will you hold it against me?
Lucas Scott abruptly shoots awake, those words echoing in his head. He lifts a shaky hand and runs it over his face, heartbeat slightly erratic from the memory-dream he'd just had. He can't deal with this right now, he really can't. Flopping back down on his bed, he stares blankly up at the ceiling, and pushes her voice to the very back of his mind.
Everything's bad and it's all overwhelming. Last week, he was a normal high school kid; focused on getting good grades, playing basketball, dealing with his friends, and spending time with his beautiful girlfriend. But that was last week…a lot can change in a few short days. This week he hadn't even gone to school, no one had. It was still closed following the shooting that had taken place only six days before. A shooting that had left one friend injured, a former friend dead, and the entire student body in devastation.
But those issues aren't the only things taking over his mind. At the forefront is the loss of Keith. A man who was his uncle biologically, but in all the ways that matter, his father. Keith was supposed to fill that role in a legal sense with the adoption plans. He was supposed to fill that role forever, once he married Karen, the woman he'd loved his entire life—and Lucas' mom. He wasn't supposed to have been buried just yesterday, leaving them all here to grieve a good man that was taken too soon.
And he was a good man.
Lucas can't understand how Jimmy Edwards—a boy who had been his friend for years, and who'd loved Keith too—could have looked the man in the face and pulled the trigger. At least, that's how Lucas imagines it happened; no one really knows, they just guess. And they can't ask, since Jimmy turned the gun on himself right after.
That last thought sends a spear of anger through the grief-stricken blonde. Anger at the boy who caused all of this grief and confusion for everyone, except himself. The boy who took Lucas' uncle away, but wasn't man enough to face what he'd done. The boy who can't take it back.
Neither can Lucas.
Laying there, gaze still on that white ceiling, Lucas lets some silent tears fall unchecked. It's his fault. He knows Keith would not have gone back into that school, if it wasn't for him. Jimmy may have pulled the trigger, but Lucas was the reason Keith was there in the first place. And he can't take it back.
Before that thought can fester and spread the feeling of overwhelming guilt yet again, Lucas climbs out of bed. It's time to face another day. Another day of confusion, sadness, anger, and all sorts of things. He has to be strong though; his mom will need someone to lean on. Brooke—his girlfriend—will need someone to lean on. As will his brother and his best friend. So will he, but he won't think about that right now. Because his someone to lean on is dead. And thinking about that isn't helping.
After quickly (and mindlessly) getting ready to face the day, Lucas enters the kitchen to find Karen sitting at the table, staring at nothing. He knows that yesterday had been hard for her; she seemed to withdraw from everyone even more after the funeral. He sees Brooke standing at the counter pouring coffee into three mugs.
"Hey" he mumbles, sliding into a seat across from his mom.
Her eyes flitter in his direction before quickly looking away, but she doesn't say anything. Brooke sets a mug in front of both of them, grabbing the third and joining them at the table. "Hey. You hungry?"
"Not really. But thanks."
She simply nods. He doesn't know what to say to her, but he's grateful she's there. And he doesn't know how to comfort her either, or his mom. So he says nothing.
The silence that falls next is uneasy. Karen simply fiddles with the handle of her mug, not looking at either of the other two at the table. Lucas peeks at Brooke out of the corner of his eye; she seems like she's not all there, as she just stares into the depths of her coffee.
Lucas looks away. He knows one of the reasons for her uncharacteristic brooding, but he can't think about it now. Keeping his attention off of that keeps a lot of his own pain away, even though it's extremely selfish of him. The tense emotions fill the silence to the point where he feels like screaming. He's not sure how much longer he can last before breaking down.
The three occupants of the kitchen all jump slightly at the brisk knock to the front door. They share resigned looks; Lucas is in no mood for company. He thinks—or knows—that Karen isn't either.
"I'll get it." Brooke offers, standing from her chair, looking a little relieved at the distraction.
Karen nods, turning her gaze in the direction of the front door. Lucas doesn't really care right now, so he keeps his attention on his coffee, willing whoever it is to just go away.
"Hi Karen."
The gruff voice causes Lucas' head to jerk up; reality just came knocking.
"Larry." Karen smiles half-heartedly, standing to briefly hug her friend. Brooke timidly enters the kitchen behind him, a look of fear crossing her face before she smoothes it out. But Lucas saw it.
"I'm so sorry about Keith. I wanted to come yesterday…but I just couldn't leave her by herself. I'm all she has."
He looks defeated, and older than Lucas knows him to be, like the past six days have drained years from his life.
Brooke blinks back tears and looks at Larry with an expression of guilt. "How is she?" The question is a mere whisper, laced with worry and slight shame.
"The same." He smiles gently at her as her face falls a little. "I just really came to check in on you guys."
Karen stands suddenly, and grabs Larry's hand between both of hers. "You know you don't have to do this on your own, right? We're here for you and if you need anything, we can help. I want to help if I can."
He nods. They share looks of some understanding, both having experienced their fair share of tragedy. "I know. Same goes for you."
Lucas watches the exchanges with detachment; everything is happening through a dense fog. Until one thought breaks through, causing him to frown suddenly.
"Who's with her?"
Larry glances at him, surprised, almost like he's just noticing the boy's presence.
"Lucas. I'm so sorry for your loss." He offers his hand with his next words. "And I just want to say thank you. For getting my little girl out of there."
Lucas absently takes the proffered hand, not deterred from getting an answer to his question. "Who's with her? While you're here?"
Larry shares a look with Karen, both taken aback at the ferocity in the teen's tone. He sighs. "The nurses should be changing shifts in an hour. They don't let me stay with her overnight, so I usually go back in the mornings after shift changes, since they generally clean her up first thing. I can't stay for that anyway, so I go when they're done. I just thought I'd stop in on my way there. See if you guys needed anything."
"We're…coping." Karen manages, before her chin starts quivering and she tries blinking back tears. Larry pulls her into a hug; she stiffens against him, but doesn't step away.
Brooke watches worriedly for a moment, before giving her attention to Lucas. Her eyes widen slightly when they fall on him but he doesn't notice, because he's too busy glaring at Larry, jaw set.
"So she's alone?" he bites out, anger growing at the thought. She doesn't deserve to be alone right now, and he had promised her that she wouldn't have to be until she was okay. And she isn't okay yet.
He stands abruptly, startling the adults in the room.
Larry frowns, "Lucas—"
He's cut off when Lucas stalks out of the room, not saying anything. Larry turns to Karen, confused. She shrugs a little; they've all been tense recently, and she hasn't been paying much attention to anything beyond her own grief lately.
Brooke bites her lip, before telling them, "I got it." She takes a deep breath, and follows her boyfriend out of the kitchen.
Lucas is angrily pulling on a sweatshirt when Brooke walks into the bedroom. She regards him worriedly. "Luke?" The question is timid, at best, and is easily ignored by the boy.
"Luke!" she grabs his arm as he goes to brush by her. "What is going on with you?"
He stares at her in disbelief. "Really, Brooke? You have to ask? That's what's on your mind?" His tone is mocking and hard, causing her to tighten her hand on his arm. He pulls his arm away roughly, feeling a flash of remorse at the brief hurt that graces her features, before he pushes that emotion aside.
"Why haven't you been to visit Peyton?" He stares at her as her face whitens.
And there it is, the million dollar question, not only aimed at her, but at himself. That's the situation that adds to his self loathing. He promised nothing would happen to her. Yes, he got her out of that school alive, but something did happen to her. She won't wake up. It's been six days, and she's not awake. No one knows why, exactly.
And, apparently, no one has gone to see her.
Brooke blinks back tears and tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear, "I've been with you. And Karen."
Lucas scoffs, "She's your best friend, and you can't visit her? Not even once?"
He knows that's harsh, and a distant part of his brain is shouting at him to apologize and stop being so hard on his girlfriend when his blame is really self directed. But the anger is overriding any rational thought.
Brooke recoils slightly at that statement, before rallying. She lifts her chin, "She is my best friend. And you're my boyfriend. I am trying to be here for you right now, but that doesn't mean I don't care about her." She takes a shaky breath and continues to tearfully stare at him.
Lucas turns away from her, his eyes falling on a set of keys on his desk. The keys to the Mustang he should not be inheriting right now, or in this way.
But it's the only car he has.
"I'm going to go see her." He abruptly states, grabbing the keys and choosing to ignore what the brunette just said. It will only add to his guilt if he does. To face that he's the reason Peyton doesn't have her best friend by her side when she most needs her. He banishes that train of thought as soon as it creeps into his mind, not wanting to consider it.
"I'll come with you." Brooke offers. Hesitantly.
He picks up on that hesitance and sends her a scathing look.
"You mean, now that I'm going?" He practically snarls, jerking open the door leading outside. "No thanks. I don't need you right now. And Peyton just needs to find someone who'll be a better so-called best friend."
He hears her sob right before he slams the door behind him. He's torn between hating the situation and hating the person he's becoming. But the pulsating guilt and the sheer, undiluted anger compel him down the driveway and to the car. He can always apologize later, once he's calmed down.
The drive to the hospital serves to compose him a little; focusing on an easy, routine activity soothes his ragged emotions.
He sits in his car for a full ten minutes, just watching people go in and out, before he musters up the courage to enter the hospital. It's not that difficult to find her room; anyone who has seen the news lately knows that he was one who carried Peyton out of that school. The nurses are helpful in directing him to where she is, but the looks of sympathy they keep casting his way are beginning to grate on his rapidly disintegrating nerves.
Finally he's standing in front of room 312. It's a private room, so there are no worries about disturbing any other patient or being disturbed by their family. He stands there, staring at the door, trying to tamp down the tidal wave of guilt washing over him for taking this long to come see her.
Taking a shuddering deep breath, he braces himself. Lucas pushes open the door, gaze immediately going to the blonde girl sleeping in the narrow hospital bed. He unconsciously holds his breath a moment, taking her in. She looks so utterly fragile and tiny to him, hooked up to monitors and intravenous lines.
He lets the door swing shut behind him as he steps further into the room, not taking his eyes off of her.
A movement in his peripheral vision catches his attention, drawing his gaze to the person sitting in a chair by the bed.
His heart stops.
She looks at him curiously, and he can't do anything but stare back, mind whirling.
"Peyton?"
A/N: Hopefully this is different enough to be interesting! Let me know what you think and if it's something I should continue. :-)
