No infringement intended, all rights to their respective owners…
Just a short little piece… because I'd love to see more of that Brathan friendship on the show…
And because I currently suck at working on my Brathan stories and I need to apologize for that.
Also, this is for someone I once knew: why do we love the people that hurt us, right?
"Scott!"
Brooke found him at the River Court, where he was playing ball like it were any other day and not the day of his father's funeral. She sighed, wrapped her arms around herself, and resumed her walk towards him.
"Nathan…"
"Hey," he said. He stopped in his tracks after having dunked another ball and looked at her questioningly. "Shouldn't you be somewhere else?"
She chuckled lightly but all too soon her smile turned into a frown. She tilted her head a little once she had stepped right in front of him and placed a hand on his chest. "And you, Nathan Scott? Shouldn't you be somewhere else as well? With your family?"
He averted his face so as not to look at her. "I know what you're trying to do, Brooke."
"Oh?" she made. Lightly, she tapped his cheek, persuaded him to face her, lock gazes with her. "Well, what am I trying to do? Huh?"
Nathan smiled weakly. "Davies, you're a nuisance, you know that?" he muttered and holding the ball in one hand, he turned away from her and started walking off. Brooke followed him closely and grabbed his free hand.
"Hey!" she called out and nudged his shoulder playfully. "Come on, Scott, don't be an ass. Come with me…" She stared at him imploringly, suddenly serious. She knew he'd regret it later if he didn't go with her now. If he didn't go to the funeral of his father.
Dan Scott. Who had been a bad man for most of his life. Who had loved his son nonetheless. Who had adored his grandson more than anyone else. Who had at least tried to make up for past mistakes, even though he had surely known how futile such an attempt must eventually prove to be. Too much pain had he caused his family—his sons—in the past. And yet…
Brooke bit her lip, sighed again. She grabbed his arm yet a little tighter, and leaned into him.
"N. Scott. You and I, we'll go over to that cute little car over there and make our way to the chapel…"
"Brooke…" he sighed, his gaze trained on the asphalt underneath their feet.
"Haley and Jamie are waiting for you," she whispered, softly nudging him. "Even Lucas is already there… You should be there, too," she cajoled him, fighting for composure. She felt so sorry for him and Lucas. For Jamie especially.
She remembered overhearing the child talk to his father on the day of Dan's death.
"Do you think Q and grandpa will get along?"
"Do I—what? Q and grandpa?"
"Dad, grandpa is in heaven now, too, isn't he? Even though he was in prison? So he and Q won't be all alone up there?"
She had heard Nathan sigh heavily at that, had heard the tears in Jamie's little voice. From where she had stood she had only seen half of them, but she had seen Nathan pull his son in for a tight hug and console him as best he could.
But how do you console a heartbroken child?
It was at that moment that Brooke's heart broke, too.
"Come on, Nate. I'll bring you home so you can change, okay?"
"God, Brooke, can't you lay off? Can't you all just lay off?" Nathan bit out, suddenly sounding strangely defeated and tired. No trace of his earlier smile left now. He didn't look at her. "I'm tired. I'll go home. I don't care what you or anyone else thinks, I'm not going to Dan Scott's damn funeral, okay? You can't make me.—Believe me, others have tried to persuade me before. I'm not going. So leave me alone already, Davies. Just—leave me alone.
"Baby, are you okay?" Haley had whispered while gently wrapping her arms around him, leaning her head against his chest.
"Sure. Why does everyone keep asking me that?" He had sounded more annoyed than he had wanted to. He had felt sorry for sounding like his old High School self, had been afraid to scare his wife away with his odd behavior. But he couldn't help himself…
And Haley, she had not left. She had remained sitting with him, had run a hand through his hair. She hadn't said anything, hadn't pressed him, had suffered his silence.
"Your family is waiting, Scott.—Besides, you don't really want to do this. Trust me, Nathan. You'll never forgive yourself if you don't—"
"If I don't what, Brooke?" he interrupted her and tore himself away from her, his eyes boring into her with fierce anger.
But he couldn't scare her off so easily. No, not Brooke Davies. You didn't get rid of her this easily. Not if you were a friend… and she could see right through you.
"Nathan," she softly whispered, slowly advancing toward him once again. "It's okay."
Bewildered, he stared at her, frowning. She could practically see his anger evaporate and be replaced by some other, entirely different emotion.
"It's okay, Nathan."
"You—what the hell are you talking about?!"
"Sssh," she soothed. She made to embrace him, but he tried to shove her away in a show of pride or strength or some other similar Scott-typical idiocy.
"No!" he shouted. Oddly, Brooke's eyes followed the ball that Nathan had dropped all the way until it stopped, and came to rest somewhere in the grass. Only then did she face Nate again, smiling sadly.
"You're sad, Nathan, and that's okay. It's okay. This is what grief feels like. And believe me, no one will regard you a lesser person because you grief for your dad."
Nathan closed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. He shook his head and tried to blend her out, but failed. "I'm not… grieving."
"Oh, Nate…"
"Can't you just—leave me the hell alone?! Go to the damn funeral if you so desperately want to, Brooke, but leave me out of this! I'm not going, no matter what Haley says, or my mom, or Luke. Or you! So stop bugging me! I just came here to play ball, and that's what I'm going to do now!"
"He was our father, Nate, no matter what he did. God, don't get me wrong, I'm the last to tell you to go to his funeral and pay him your respects or some such crap. You won't hear me say any of that. Still, I think you should go. Do it for yourself, man. I wouldn't want to see you tear yourself apart later for not having gone to say goodbye when you had the chance. I'm not saying you have to stay the whole time. And neither am I saying you have to make a speech or carry the friggin' casket, or whatever the hell else. All I'm saying is: let's go there together. Nate. You're my brother, man? And I need you to go there with me. Please…"
Lucas had pleaded with him. And Lucas had never before pleaded with him. Not like that, with that look in his eyes that had made Nathan feel like crap when he walked out.
"Seriously, Luke," he had said, shaking his head in disbelief, and maybe something close to sympathy. His brother had never really had much of a father, maybe that was why he was clinging to the mere possibility of Dan's presence in his life even now, now that the man was dead.
Nathan suddenly felt Brooke's warm and gentle hands on his face, and this time, he didn't shove her away, didn't fight her off. She simply looked at him and waited, silently. He had to bite down on the soft side of his lower lip so as to keep his face from scrunching up. Already his frown had deepened so much that he felt a headache start making itself noticeable.
"Brooke…"
She shook her head again, sympathetically, as she stared into his eyes. "Nathan Scott, it's okay to love your father."
"I'm not…"
She saw unwanted tears well in his eyes. Finally. After days and days of suppressing his feelings, Nathan was eventually letting go. "I'm not…" he tried again.
"—It's okay," Brooke spoke over him as he faltered. She watched him try to hide his tears and fail, saw his face scrunch up in a pained expression and couldn't help but pull him in for a hug.
"It's okay to love your dad, Nathan, and be sad about his death. Even if he's treated you like crap, even if he doesn't deserve it. Even if he never showed you how much he really loved you—or should have loved you. It's okay. Believe me. I know what you're feeling, I know. I have a mother just like that. I hate her, and I love her.—Maybe they don't deserve our love, and they definitely don't deserve our grief. But it's their fault. Not ours. Not yours." She was crying now, too, and tightening her arms around Nathan, maybe she was no longer merely comforting him by then.
"And besides, even if people might want you to believe it, not everything about Dan was bad, right? Admittedly, I can hardly believe myself for saying this but he did have his sweet sides every once in a while. He was great with Jamie. And he did care for you—yeah, okay, mostly he had a pretty crappy way of showing it…" She waved a hand dismissively and noticed him smile a small smile, before she went on, "But he did love you, I'm sure of that. No matter what he did or said… he loved you. You were his son.—That grief, it's okay. It's good, and it's yours. In the end, Dan was your father, and tell me whatever you want, but you loved that man. And love is never logical, it's irrational, and not always well deserved. But it's real, and it hurts, and it doesn't simply die with the person it was aimed toward. So… it's okay." Brooke sighed, then finally disentangled herself from him again. "And if you'd rather play ball now, well I guess that's okay, too. It's just. I wouldn't want you to be alone now. So, what's it going to be, Scott: playing a game against me? Or joining Haley and Jamie and Luke over at the chapel?"
She saw him draw in a deep breath eventually and wipe a hand across his face. She saw him lower his head in defeat. But then, all of a sudden, he stared right back at her, straightened up and quietly said, "You suck at playing ball, Davies. So I guess that only leaves us with one option…"
Brooke smiled at that. Ignoring the tears in her eyes, she wrapped an arm around him, and together they walked off to leave the River Court.