Broken Sunlight

Author's note: So this is a new one for me. I've never written a brucas/brathan before. Hope you guys like it! This one definitely won't be as long as A Winding Road or Never Forget. And it's pretty different, too.

Summary: Flight attendant Brooke Davis is torn between two sides of the same country-and between two men. Her once orderly life comes crashing down when both of them decide they want to be with her for real, and she has to make a choice. Brucas, Brathan, Naley. AU.

Dedicated to Davis, who deserves some Brucas after all this time.

Chapter One: Takeoffs and Landings

Brooke Davis' cheerful, animated smile fell as soon as she turned away from yet another demanding passenger. This had to be one of the least satisfying jobs she'd ever had, as well as the most convenient.

As a child, she'd never imagined herself wanting to end up here. She'd wanted to be an artist. And then a fashion model. As a teenager, she'd wanted to be a designer, and the dream had stuck until she'd come out of college and realized she was full of ideas but had no one to tell them to. Brooke had become a flight attendant because it paid well enough and it allowed her to live in more than one place, but prided herself on not having Flight Attendant Hair.

She pushed the beverages cart to the back of the plane, finally having satisfied the whim of every first class passenger. She dropped down in the seat next to her friend, Rachel Gattina, another attendant.

"I hate first class passengers," she proclaimed bitterly, glancing at her friend. Rachel, Brooke noticed with slight satisfaction, did indeed have Flight Attendant Hair.

"Funny. First class just loves you," she said, smirking. Brooke immediately comprehended her meaning and glanced up the aisle to where a middle aged business man was sitting, still leering at her. She conjured up another fake smile.

"I hate you."

Rachel nodded.

"I know."

When the plane landed smoothly on the runway of Charleston, South Carolina, Brooke was relieved. Considering her occupation, she reflected, it was a surprising thing to be afraid of.

Once she, Rachel, and the other attendants had smiled graciously to the passengers as they left the plane, she fled the airport. She had a whole night before she had to leave again and she knew exactly what she was going to do with it.

Brooke admired the scenery as she was driven past it in the cab she'd hailed at the airport. It was a nice city. She could almost imagine living here, had it not been so slow. As it was, she had other reasons to enjoy the city. One reason, specifically.

The house that she'd directed the cab to was a tall, narrow townhouse, squished in between many other similar houses, almost imperceptible to the eye. It was an address she'd come to memorize, a home she'd come to see almost as her own. She hurried up the steps. She disregarded the fact that she was still wearing her uniform. She opened the door without pausing to knock.

Brooke smiled when at last she reached her destination. He was sitting at his small, round, kitchen table, dressed in gray sweatpants and a loose t-shirt. His face was unshaven, he was reading the newspaper. Clearly he hadn't expected visitors. She smiled, relieved at seeing him after so many days, relieved that this part of her life remained still and unchanging, always.

"Hey," she said softly, hoping to subtly ease him away from his newspaper. His head snapped up in surprise. Instantly he smiled. He rose to greet her, and she realized with a smile that he had bare feet.

"Brooke." He walked toward her and took her in his arms. "I didn't know you were coming."

His voice registered surprise. But his lips, only moments later, told her that it was a good surprise.

"Do you have to leave again?" he asked. It was hours later, they were in his bed. The sun was setting outside of his window. Her uniform was on the floor in the hall, long since discarded.

She nodded against his chest.

"Tomorrow?"

She nodded again.

She heard him sigh quietly, but warded off his trepidation with another kiss. This had happened with almost every man she'd been involved with-him sooner or later growing tired of her inconsistent presence, him demanding a change. This had never come down in their favour. She'd never done well with ultimatums.

Brooke dreaded the day that this would happen. She felt comfortable lying in Lucas' arms, was growing fond of the image of him in her head, of him writing on his computer in bed and the day old stubble that accumulated whenever she left him for a night or two. Even though they hadn't gotten to the stage of him meeting her at the airport, or even him going on dates while she was gone (she wasn't sure if he did that or not), she wasn't ready to let go of what they did have yet.

Lucas sighed. "Did Rachel get it on in the bathroom today?" he asked curiously. To him, though he'd never met her, Rachel was the most clichéd flight attendant that the world had ever seen. Brooke giggled.

"Nope. Today she was on third class, and generally she only bothers with the first class businessmen," explained Brooke.

"Remind me to go flying more often," he said. He grinned as she rolled over and straddled him, her long dark hair falling erotically around her bare shoulders.

"Trust me," she said, as he admired her naked form. "She is not your type."

In the morning, Brooke left as quickly as she always did and to Lucas, standing in the doorway in his boxers, it was like she'd never been there at all.

As she neared the airport, and then hurried through it to get to her flight before it left without her, she was considerably calmer. Being with Lucas was so soothing. It made her feel like she was in a real, grown-up relationship, even though she wasn't. She could picture them, both sitting at that kitchen table in their underwear, trading back sections of the newspaper.

Brooke shook this thought out of her head as she took her place beside Rachel to welcome passengers onto the plane.

When they arrived on the Chicago runway only a few hours later, she was relieved as she'd been when they'd arrived in Charleston the day before. Chicago was equally familiar territory to her. The short flight, from Charleston to Chicago, was one she was often assigned to. It had become her routine, and it definitely had its perks.

Rachel watched suspiciously as Brooke all but ran out of the airport. Brooke commonly chastised Rachel for her behavior in airplane washrooms, but Brooke's behavior on land told a different story.

The home she sought out here was an entirely different one. Brooke nervously smoothed out the skirt she'd changed into while she rose the elevator up to the high rise apartment. She'd thought to change out of her uniform, this time.

She let herself into the apartment with her key and walked quickly toward the bedroom. Her heart quickened when she saw him, his upper body not covered by the sheet, his dark hair rumpled. He stirred when she entered, and sat up in bed.

"Hey babe," he said, smiling sleepily at her. He patted the expanse of bed beside him. "Care to join me?"

Brooke smiled back and quickly walked toward the bed of her lover.