Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Why won't you open up?
I want to be held again as the walls are falling down
'cause I forget what it was like before you were asleep there underground
-Deas Vail "This Place is Painted Red"
Try as he might, Julian just isn't Lucas.
Brooke thinks she might be over Lucas when Julian inadvertently brushes his hand against her thigh, pours her favorite glass of merlot, or acquiesces to watching her favorite terribly cheesy movies. She thinks the last just might kill him, because it's in his job description to not care about these films, but he does everything to make her happy.
He should make her happy.
She thinks she's happy, anyway, until there's a phone call and some worry. Fifteen hundred miles away, Peyton Scott begins to doubt her abilities as a mother. Fifteen hundred hours later, Lucas returns with Sawyer.
She's always hated Peyton and her ability to flee.
The only reason Brooke gave Lucas up was because she thought Peyton could make him happy. It's a strange feeling for her, not making a boy happy, but she's grown used to it as all the boys that flock to her aren't the ones that matter.
She watches from afar as Lucas takes his place in Nathan and Haley's home. He's clearly too broken to reenter his childhood home, the one he christened with Peyton. The memories haunt his face as clear as day and it pains her to know she can still read him like his novel, because his face will be ingrained into her mind forever.
Brooke likes to think she hides things well, but Julian is more perceptive than she gives him credit for. He breaks up with her with such ease that she has to wonder if he ever loved her at all, until she sees the quiet sadness in his eyes. Those eyes beckon her to love him, those emerald orbs that look past her to see her very soul.
She's been looked at like this before and she closes her eyes to remember.
It's a nice feeling, being loved. It's nicer yet when you love them back.
It's hard to give your heart out when you never got it back in the first place.
Brooke is slightly hurt that Lucas hasn't sought her out yet, but she supposes they were never friends anyway. They jumped straight into a relationship that was more her than him. Nothing has been the same since.
Still, it seems he visits with everybody but her, save Dan, but that's understandable in its own right. She still watches as he exits Nathan and Haley's home, hand in hand with Jamie with Sawyer situated on his waist. It's in these moments that he is most carefree, his face glowing for the world to see. The minute Jamie lets go of his hand, his expression returns blank, like he is searching for something.
He was always searching for something, the only thing that ran from him.
She searched for him, but he was already looking for something else. Rather, he already found what he was looking for by the time she found him.
It's getting late, so she goes home again. It's another night. She reads the only thing she reads before bed, his book.
Victoria tries to talk to her about Julian. "Brooke, I wasn't a huge fan of the boy, but he had potential. Surely, you could love him?"
As always, it's phrased as a question, because what other being (Brooke's still not certain she's completely human, because humans had feelings) would question the ability to love.
Still, she doesn't answer to give Victoria the satisfaction of knowing. Victoria figures it out anyway. Brooke supposes she inherited her brain.
"You still love Lucas." It isn't a question this time, merely a phrase that lingers on her lips before settling into the air around her.
Brooke's silence gives Victoria the answer she wanted, the answer she already has. It's always been him, anyway.
She's a replacement.
She fills in for the girls who are indispensible and pretends to be happy along the way. She's not innocent in this, because she's done her fair share of replacing, too.
Still, she knows Clay sees a different brunette (more auburn than chestnut, but in any case it doesn't really matter to her) as he enters her softly, slowly making her come.
She had him pegged wrong. He's not the playboy. He's the boy that never grew up, because the girl he wants is still out there. He's only just found her and she still belongs to someone else.
It's a feeling that surrounds her (has surrounded her) almost unbearably, but being with him almost makes it better. Sometimes, it makes it worse. Sometimes, she looks in the mirror and doesn't know who is staring back at her. Most of the time, she doesn't care.
She flees, too.
It's not anywhere exotic or unfamiliar, just the busy streets of the city. It's amazing how this city makes her feel so different than it used to. She still wonders how a place so full of people can seem so very empty.
Maybe the city wasn't different at all. Maybe it was just her.
It's only been a couple months since she's been back, but many things are already different. The thread count at the Palace is still the same, but the little gallery she used to love on Mercer is now a tiny café called the Bleecker.
It's a familiar enough atmosphere, so she walks in. She doesn't think anything of it as she goes up to order a nonfat half-caf latte. She doesn't pay any attention to her surroundings, so it's surprising when a young woman comes up to her to praise her bag.
It's flattering enough, so she thanks her. "I'd kill to have your peep toes."
The girl smiles at her and instantly she is reminded of herself back at Tree Hill High. "I don't usually say this, but I think I like you. I'm Blair."
The situation is almost laughable, but again, the girl reminds her of herself, so she just smiles back. Her latte is finally ready and she smiles at the barista behind the counter as she picks it up.
Blair is still behind her when she turns around. "I'd like to invite you to a party. If you're not busy, of course."
Brooke shrugs. She likes parties enough, anyway.
Tripp recognizes her the second she walks through the door. "Brooke, long time no see. I didn't know you knew Blair."
She smiles, hugging him. "We met earlier. She invited me to a party, but I had no idea the fun factor would be lacking."
Blair, although not offended, frowns. "You two know each other?"
Brooke shrugs, looking around. "I actually know a lot of people in this room."
Tripp laughs, gently touching her shoulder. "Blair, you'll be hard pressed to find that Brooke has the best New York connections for only having lived here for four years. You'll like each other. I'm sure of it."
He's across the room and she hasn't had nearly enough champagne for this.
It's not him, it can't be, but he looks so much like Lucas that Brooke blinks twice (thrice, then four times), before he looks over at her and winks.
It's definitely not Lucas.
He's wearing a custom tailored Armani (gray pinstripes, her favorite) that fits the curve of his shoulders in a way that should be sinful, carefully sipping on a glass of aged scotch, sans ice.
His name is Tristan DuGrey and he's not Lucas, but at night she can pretend.
She's so good at pretending these days that she's never sure what's reality and what's going on in her head. She's not sure the truth would sit too well with her, anyhow.
New York wears out its welcome faster than ever before and soon enough she is on a plane back to North Carolina.
Tristan promises to call (she can envision his devilish smirk over the phone, much more Nathan than Lucas), but she knows better by now than to accept false truths.
It's been a month and Lucas has moved out of Nathan and Haley's. It's been a month and his old house is on the market and he is living in a quaint townhouse facing a cobblestone road. It's been a month and Haley's mostly brunette (but kind of redheaded) sister is on her way to being single and Brooke doesn't bother to call Clay.
In any case, if she was him, she wouldn't answer.
She's done lying to herself, or so she thinks.
When Tristan ends up calling, she is actually surprised.
It's been a while since anything has shocked her, so yes, she agrees to come see him. He offers to fly south, but she isn't ready for her friends to see this yet. Truthfully, she might not ever be.
She expects New York, but he surprises her with Connecticut. In all the time she lived in Manhattan, she never bothered to explore the surrounding regions. Hartford is a whole new world, filled with old money and an ambience she admittedly has never experienced.
She is shockingly excited about where the weekend is taking her. Brooke admits Tristan surprised her when he asks what she is thinking. He gives her a hand which she takes without another word. Together, they explore the nuances of a state she has never been to.
It's nice to have this feeling again, she thinks, even if it is doomed not to last.
Tristan is not Lucas (even if it's enough for her right now), but she is not Rory Gilmore, so like it was predestined, they break up.
It's not bitter or angry, but it still takes months for him to call her. He sounds happy and in love. She congratulates him, because he means something to her. It's been so long since someone has meant something to her that she drifts slowly to Julian and instantly wonders what he is doing.
Brooke thinks it might be inappropriate for her to call him, so she settles on reading about him in a tabloid instead. Haley catches her glimpsing at the paparazzi photos and mildly berates her for letting a good one go.
She can't argue, because it's true, but something slips out anyway. "I let the best one go because I wasn't good enough, so now I have to settle."
It's a whisper amongst the wind, but she's pretty sure Haley heard it anyway.
It takes two years to run into each other.
Two years is a long time, but Tree Hill isn't New York. There aren't social obligations and galas to attend. There are no book signings or political parties you have to prepare for in advance.
Here, it's just Tree Hill and they're just Brooke and Lucas. They're two people that couldn't seem to make it work, but it's not like she didn't try.
He comes up to her. "Hey, Brooke."
She stares past him to the corner, because Jamie is playing with Sawyer. "Hey, Lucas."
It's not original and she can definitely come up with something better, but Peyton's always been the witty one. Peyton gets everything, but Brooke gets pieces. She'll scrap them together to form part of something, anything, to get her mind off this boy (now a man) who still holds her heart in his hands.
He frowns at her. "It's been years."
The silent 'where have you been' still sounds in her mind.
Instead, she nods. "Two."
He is still frowning, but he asks nonetheless. "Is that all you have to say to me?"
She shrugs. "I've been here too, Luke. You could've sought me out."
They stare at each other for what feels like hours before Sawyer beckons him with her small hands. She is Peyton's spitting image, both beautiful and heartbreaking. It's too much for Brooke to take in at the moment.
It's much too late for anything and they both know it, but damn her for wanting him to try. She was always after the lost cause, but maybe it was her that was lost.
The day Sawyer turns five, Peyton returns to Tree Hill.
The blonde is glowingly happy, undeservingly so, but wasn't this always the case? Brooke books a one way to New York just in time for Blair's graduation.
She's missed this girl, the one who reminds her so much of herself. She's seen her a few times over the years, but not an overwhelming amount.
Blair is a New Yorker through and through, but with so much careful planning, she still doesn't know what is ahead of her. Her friend Serena tries to apply for Brooke's open PR position, but Brooke gives it to Blair instead.
Serena is carefree and spontaneous, the effervescent beauty, but Blair is her. She is sure of it. She built a company all by herself and she's sure this girl can keep it floating above ground. She's got a level head and a good work ethic, so Brooke is sure she will do wonders for the company.
Sometimes, she wishes guys were like work. She understood work, so why couldn't she understand guys?
It's a surprise to see him standing on the corner of East 93rd and Park picking up his daughter.
It's not much of a greeting, but she says it nonetheless. "Peyton hates New York."
Lucas looks at her oddly before ruffling a hand through his hair. "Luckily, I'm not with her then."
Brooke insists on pushing the issue. "She came back to Tree Hill."
Lucas shrugs. "She came back for a week. When I told her I didn't want to be with her, she packed her bags and left again."
When Brooke looks at Sawyer, really looks at her, she sees the beautiful girl she never bothered to notice before. Peyton dominates her features, but Lucas dominates her heart. Sawyer looks up at the duo and waves.
Lucas waves back and then turns back to Brooke. "What are you doing here, then?"
She looks at him strangely. "I live here."
Lucas smiles. "I meant at the school."
Suddenly, she's sixteen again and this boy makes her feel like the dumbest girl in the entire world. It's not purposeful, it never is, but she can't help the way it makes her feel.
In a clipped tone, she replies. "The head of my PR department went here. I went to speak on behalf of the company being a corporate sponsor."
Without another word, she leaves. It's too bad she doesn't notice Lucas glancing after her, or his daughter wondering where the pretty lady with the shiny hair went.
She has become more like Victoria than she could ever hope to be and it makes her saddened to see herself in the mirror every morning.
She doesn't know how it happens, but like everything in her life, it just does.
He's written another book. It's not the Comet and it's not her favorite bedtime novel (her only novel), but something else entirely. It's called Summers of Discontent, a play on the book he made her read so long ago.
She buys every copy in Borders and has them shipped back to her apartment. She means to read every word, to languish over them as if they are real (to her, they are), but she can't seem to get past the dedication.
To the first girl to love me, I hope you might be the last.
There's a buzz around the company, whispers amongst the girls.
They gossip like it's high school, but she realizes now that life is mostly juvenile. Why grow up when it's more fun to pretend to be young?
Blair's a step above the rest when she steals Brooke away. "Is it about you?"
She doesn't bother to ask what. "Yes."
Blair frowns. "That's all you have to say?"
She repeats. "Yes."
Then, Blair leaves like she's disappointed and Brooke is left with the feeling that she let down her little sister. The feeling makes her miss Haley and she tells her secretary to remind her to call her favorite musician later.
As usual, Haley sees right through her.
She insists she doesn't want happily ever after, but Haley argues otherwise. Maybe Haley's right. Maybe she wants it. Maybe she needs it.
It doesn't matter anyway, because she'll never have it.
She's so stuck in her own thoughts that when it hits, it's like a hurricane, so sudden that she has no time to take cover. She thinks she might not want to hide from it, because it feels so good that she can't stop.
This time she is sixteen, or at least she feels like it, and he holds her like he loves her. It's a drawback to the past and maybe they're holding a candle to the future, but she doesn't have time to think about anything as he holds her so close she thinks she can't breathe.
They're happy like she always knew they could be happy, when one day out of the blue Julian calls her to ask how she is doing.
She tells him she is fine, she tells him she is happy, but she doesn't tell him she is with Lucas. It turns out he knows, but he doesn't let on.
She asks him the same questions he asks her and he answers with such a carefree attitude that she asks who the lucky lady is. She wonders if it is anyone she knows, or rather anyone she has read about. He laughs over the phone and she can see him shaking his head.
Sometimes, she wishes she could have loved him, but now she knows this is not the case. They weren't meant to be. They never were.
Brooke's thirtieth birthday present is a surprise pregnancy, which leads Lucas to buying a diamond, but she refuses him in a way that bewilders him.
She argues. "I'm not marrying you because I'm pregnant. I thought we learned our lesson the last time."
He's angry. "You lied the last time."
She's angry, too. "You were with Peyton behind my back the last time!"
He looks tired, older than his thirty years when he replies. "Is this how we're going to be, Brooke? I'm trying, I really am."
They're them, but they're also them from fourteen years ago, the them that can't forgive and forget. If they have anything in common, it's the fact that they're both stubborn.
She concedes. "I'm sorry, I'm just stressed."
He gives her a light smile. "Take some time off work. I'm sure Blair wouldn't mind running the company."
She laughs lightly. "She does half the time anyway. That's not it. We need to talk."
He looks worried, until she reassures him with a gentle squeeze to his shoulder.
She takes a breath to calm herself, but she's sure of her decision. "I love this, I love us. I always thought I needed a man to complete me, but I don't want to be one half of something. I want to be me."
He still looks perplexed. "I don't understand where you're going with this."
She continues. "I'm not really going anywhere. I like where we are, Luke. I like this, I like us. I like living in our townhouse with Sawyer and coming home early from work to pick her up from school."
He gets it. "You don't want to get married."
She shakes her head. "Don't get me wrong, I love you, but I just think the biggest part of me would be lost if I gave up that part of myself. I've always been cynical about marriage. Look at my parents."
He nods. "You know my mom hates this whole living together unmarried thing, right?"
In this moment, she knows they are okay. He has conceded to her request only because he loves her, but it's enough. With him, it's always enough.
She decides to lighten the mood by swatting his chest playfully. "You know, I hear living in sin is the new thing."
She's always dreamt of having a little boy with Lucas's coloring, but when her daughter is born, everything changes.
Sawyer bossily wants to name her, but Lucas tells his daughter to ease up. Brooke is still on a high from seeing her baby being born that she doesn't even care and agrees to let Sawyer decide.
The tiny blonde sticks out her tongue at her father and Brooke can't help the laughter that escapes her lips.
She decides to ask. "What?"
It's no surprise that Sawyer takes after Peyton in her uncanny mannerisms, but Lucas still looks shocked after seven years.
They expect Sawyer to take her time naming the baby, but she doesn't even look as if she's thought anything over before she blurts something out. "Penelope. You'll name her Penelope."
Brooke smiles. "My middle name."
Sawyer nods. "I have your first, so she can have your second."
Lucas too smiles at his daughter. "What about her middle name?"
Sawyer responds. "Keith."
It's radical and masculine, but so perfect at the same time.
This tiny girl is wise beyond her years and it's evident she gets it from her father. She will grow up to be something big, they just know it. She's bigger than Tree Hill and seems bigger than Manhattan. She has the whole world at her fingertips and they wait to see what she will do with it.
It's all she's ever wanted and she's glad she's finally here.
She has Lucas, Sawyer, and Penelope (whose friends have taken to calling her P.K., which Brooke sort of thinks is awful) and they're all she'll ever need. She doesn't need his name, she doesn't need his money, but she needs his love like she needed it more than two decades ago.
They return to Tree Hill sometimes, mostly to reminisce. Penelope hates it, but Sawyer finds it inviting.
Penelope's dark hair is a contrast to Sawyer's platinum curls and the girls' differences don't end there. Penelope is focused and determined, a lawyer in the making. Sawyer drifts like her mother, always drawing or painting. She goes through canvases like Picasso and doodles on napkins before dinnertime.
Brooke loves them both in a manner that Victoria couldn't and wistfully thinks back to a time when she was empty. Lucas must notice the familiar look on her face, for he sidles up next to her to hold her like he will never let her go.
This time, he won't.