Author's Note: The other little CW show, LUX, inspired me to write this fiction. I will only continue if you guys like the idea. Below is a prologue setting the scene before we delve into the real story. If you've read In My Sky at Twilight, you already know I love dialogue, so the style will change somewhat after this chapter. At its core, this story is all BL, but I also intend to bring in NH, and to some extent JP. If the feedback is positive for the teenage scene, I have ideas for Jamie, Jenny, Brandon & Co as well. Let me know if you think I should continue this. Thanks for reading!

Prologue

Samuel Johnson, the 18th century English poet, once said: "Our brightest blazes of gladness are commonly kindled by unexpected sparks." Who among us doesn't wait impatiently for the next wind of change to hit? How long does it take, a day perhaps or many years, for that unexpected spark to ignite our world unleashing meaning, a purpose, into our lives? Do we ever learn to anticipate the unanticipated, to expect the unexpected? And if we don't, do we become just a number, a faceless, aimless repeat of yesterday for all the tomorrows to come? There's an essence to our being, a heart and soul in the fundamental nature of our existence. Sometimes we bury it deep at the bottom of the ocean so that we don't have to remember what it feels like to hurt. Sometimes the mirage tricks us disappearing before capture so that we can't remember what it feels like to be truly happy. We try once. And, again. Then, we give up. Cry, maybe. Forget. Move on. But it's always there. The promise of an unexpected spark. Just around the corner. Sometimes, it only takes a knock on a stranger's door. A phone call to an old friend. The long-awaited answer to a question we never dared to ask. One lie, a long time ago. Then, finally the truth, years later. And, everything changes. We can't stop it. Not that we would want to.

34 years-old, 5'6'', 118lbs, single-white-female, auburn hair, hazel eyes, dimples, Fashion Institute of Technology valedictorian, CEO and head-designer of fashion company, New Yorker. That, in a nutshell, is Brooke P. Davis. From the outside, she lives the life everyone wanted for and expected of her...shiny, glamorous, expensive, sexy, never a dull moment. From the inside, she lives the life meticulously planned for her...every minute of her time booked weeks in advance, every face she meets and every hand she shakes carefully pre-selected by her assistants. Yes, plural. She has three personal assistants. She doesn't sleep for more than four hours a night. She hasn't taken a vacation in years. A fact her boyfriend of two-years, Kyle, tried unsuccessfully to change on more than one occasion. But vacations take her away from her comfortable, usual routine. The plan gets messy, and she can't have that. She is always in control. So much so that she even knows Kyle is proposing that night. She knows where, at what time, and how. She knows what the ring looks like and how he'll ask. She hasn't decided what her answer will be. Yet. But, she's planning that too, just like she plans everything else in her life. She's afraid that if she stops for one second, she'll remember the hole in her heart. Brooke P. Davis doesn't have room for unexpected sparks. She made sure of that the last time one set her whole world in flames sixteen years ago. She buried the hurt deep at the bottom of the ocean; she knows true happiness is just a mirage. She still cries, sometimes. She'll never forget. She pretends to move on. But it's always there. The best part of her, she gave up. She thinks she put out the fire, but she'll soon find out that the flames still burn. And, everything will change. She won't be able to stop it. Not that she'll want to.

34 years-old, 6', 162lbs, single-white-male, dirty blond hair, blue eyes, scruffy, college drop-out, owner of auto repair shop, born and bred in North Carolina. That, in a nutshell, is Lucas E. Scott. From the outside, he lives the life no one ever wanted for or expected of him...quiet, dull, simple, easy, manual hard work, grease stains and overalls. From the inside, he lives the life he believes he deserves ...no plans, no dreams, no hopes, no difference between yesterday and tomorrow. Or the day after. He doesn't sleep for more than a few hours a night. Not because he's busy. Not at all. He mostly works nine to five. It's because he can't sleep; the same nightmare has been waking him up every night for almost seventeen years. He's moved around so many times since graduation trying to get rid of it, but it followed him everywhere. He's seen it thousands of times by now, but every single time the pain feels brand new. He remembers every detail. He even wrote it down once. Yes, he still writes. It's the only time he escapes the imaginary jail cell he locked his mind in. But it doesn't last very long; because he genuinely believes those bars around him are justified. He has boxes full of unfinished manuscripts. He never lets himself write the final act. Maybe he doesn't believe in or even like endings. Maybe he's waiting for something, an inspiration, an awakening. For the last three years, he's been living in Charlotte where he recently met Lindsay, a high-school science teacher. She started with a toothbrush and a drawer, but gradually moved herself into his apartment over the garage. He let her. Because he has become comfortable on the sidelines of his life watching things just happen to him. He doesn't need to know how or when. He never asks why. Because he already knows the answer, and it doesn't matter anymore. He buried the hurt deep at the bottom of the ocean; he knows true happiness is just a mirage. He never cried over it. He knows he'll never forget. He doesn't even try to move on. It's always there. The best of him, he killed. Lucas E. Scott doesn't have room for unexpected sparks, because the flames burning high inside him are already a permanent fixture. They've slowly been consuming any and all trace of life for years. What he doesn't know is that unexpected is about to happen anyway. And, everything will change. He won't be able to stop it. Not that he'll want to.

Almost 16 years-old, 5'11'', 151lbs, single-white-male, light brown hair, blue eyes, dimples, about to be ex-high-school-junior, he doesn't belong anywhere or anyone. That, in a nutshell, is Brandon L. Walker. From the outside, he lives the life the State expects of a problem child...not more than a few months with any given foster family, gets in fights with other students, bad grades, drinks, smokes, no rules and no limits. From the inside, he lives the only life he knows...alone, carefree, independent, there are no consequences, no protection, no one to guide or save him, and no one to love him. He's a rebel; he survives against the tide, no matter what life throws at him. He used to be a very different kid, but it gets harder to remember that version of himself every day. The Walkers adopted him at birth...they were a family once, a happy, functional, caring family. A mom who helped him with homework, and a dad who taught him how to surf. Since they died in a car accident three years ago, he's been under the State's care. There were no relatives to take him in, no money left after the debts were paid. The memories he has of Walker dinners, vacations to the mountains, the smell of his mom's roast beef, the sound of his dad's laughter...they've all faded away more and more with each new foster family. He moves around so much that he cut his belongings to the bare minimum, one suitcase filled with a box of pictures and some clothes. He hasn't surfed since the funeral. That was when he first put his dad's black leather jacket on and he hasn't taken that old thing off ever since. Oh, and he writes. No one knows what or if he's any good, because he doesn't let anyone touch his notebooks, not even Skylar. She's his best friend, practically his sister. They met at City Hall the day they both entered the system. He made a promise to her once that he would protect her with his life and he doesn't ever intend to break that promise. After all, she's the only family he's got. Well, the only one who wants him anyway. And soon, they will both file for emancipation and it will be the two of them together against the world. He'll go first when he turns sixteen on August 9, in just a couple of weeks. He'll drop out of high school, get a job, an apartment...and when she's of age in a couple of months, she'll join him. Brandon L. Walker is the ultimate unexpected spark. He has never been ordinary...nothing in his life has ever been normal, rational or typical. He's all fire and he doesn't intend to ever burn out. Now, all he needs are two signatures setting him free. For the two people who already abandoned him at birth, scribbling their name down on a piece of paper shouldn't be that hard. He found out who they were months ago. So, he'll travel to Tree Hill first to go see the man who donated his sperm. And then, he'll go to New York to see the woman who provided the egg and the nest for nine months. That's all they've ever been to him. Some technicality. He buried the hurt deep at the bottom of the ocean; he knows true happiness is just a mirage. Tears are for the weak. He'd like to pretend he already forgot and moved on. But it's always there. They don't even know he is the best part of them, but they'll soon find out. And, everything will change. He won't be able to stop it. Not that he'll want to.