Take Me or Leave Me
A.N.: I own nothing
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The penthouse apartment that housed Brooke Davis—and now, her godson James Lucas Scott, as well—was pitch black. The bright lights from New York shimmered against the paneled walls, casting shadows throughout the hallway. The silence could have deafening, if they didn't know what to listen for.
Brooke leaned against the door frame that led to her spare bedroom, her eyes fixated on the small form huddled on the bed. The basketball sheets that covered Jamie to his chin rose and fell with every breath, and she let herself simply be in the sound of his even breathing. The dim light from his night light cast a pale shadow over his peaceful face, and she let her eyes linger over his features.
She tried to squelch the sound of spinning tires from her memory; the sight of the large vehicle barreling straight for the intersection her young ward had just been about to step onto. She could steal hear Jamie's terrified gasp when she'd grabbed him around the waist, jerking him straight back into her chest as she cradled him against her. She could still feel the way his young eyes had blinked against the palm of her hand when she'd attempted to cover his eyes from the traumatic sight that had been unfolding before her own.
She sighed, watching as Jamie shifted in his sleep, his tiny hand coming up to swat at something only he could see in his imagination. She smiled sadly, her mind fading back to that fateful night a year ago, when one phone call had shattered both of their realities.
Brooke grinned at the giggle that was trickling from behind her armchair, her hands tracing the outline of the couch as she tiptoed through her living room. "Man, Jamie Scott…you are one good hider. I don't have any idea where you are," she said, smothering her chuckle when the giggling grew more loud. She sighed, putting a hand against her hip as she contemplated the room before her. "Geez…you'd think I was playing with the Invisible Man."
She bit her bottom lip, slipping off her high heeled shoes as she snuck around the back of the chair, her eyes catching sight of the little blonde head that was peering around the opposite side. She slunk down to her knees, careful to not make a sound, before she reached out, grabbing ahold of the squealing little boy. "Gotcha," she said, crushing him to her chest as he laughed and kicked.
"Darn it, Aunt Brooke, you always do that!" Jamie laughed, looking behind him to smile up at her.
Brooke laughed, rocking onto the back of her heels, and shrugged her shoulders. "Well, you always give me a run for my money, buddy." She sighed, taking in a deep breath. "Man. That really works up your appetite, huh? How about we order….pizza?"
Jamie's eyes lit up at her suggestion, and he jumped to his feet, racing to the refrigerator where a well-known delivery menu was hung proudly. "I want super stuffed crust, Aunt Brooke. So stuffed that it barely fits in the box!"
Brooke laughed, shaking her head as she rose to her feet.
The phone on the end table next to her began to ring, and she glanced at the clock against the wall. It was a little late for phone calls. She smiled. Maybe Lucas and Peyton worked things out after all, she thought, thinking on her roommate who'd left in a hurry just hours before after a call from the aforementioned gentleman.
She snatched up the handset, making a silly face at her godson as she pressed 'Talk'. "Hello?"
"May I speak with Brooke Davis, please?"
She frowned at the professional sounding voice on the other end. "Speaking. Who's this?"
"Miss Davis, this is Nurse Robinson, I'm calling from Tree Hill General." Brooke felt her heart plummet to the bottom of her stomach. "I'm calling in regards to Nathan and Haley Scott. You were listed as their emergency contact….I'm afraid there's been an accident."
A sudden cold chill overcame her at the nurse's words, and she slowly let her gaze travel to the small boy that was peering eagerly up at the take out menu on her fridge.
"Miss Davis?"
Brooke cleared her throat, bringing her attention back to the phone call at hand. "Yeah, I'm still here," she said softly, turning her back and lowering her voice so Jamie wouldn't hear. "What do you mean an accident? Are they alright?"
The nurse hesitated on the other line. "There was car accident…Mr. and Mrs. Scott….well…The doctor thinks it best that you get to the hospital as soon as you can."
The burn of tears were present in her eyes, and Brooke bit down the frightened sob that she felt welling in her throat. She nodded, bringing a trembling hand up to her mouth as she replied that she'd be there as soon as possible.
In a daze, she hung up the phone, clenching her hand into a fist to stop the shaking.
This wasn't happening. This COULDN'T be happening. This was just some horrible, horrible mistake. Some case of mistaken identity. You heard about it on the news all the time.
Brooke took a deep breath, swiping at the stray tears that slid down her cheeks. She smiled, walking into the kitchen and leaning down to talk to Jamie. "Hey, buddy…what do you say we go out, instead? Maybe Uncle Skills can come, too? Does that sound okay?"
Jamie shrugged, nodding. "I guess so. I like Uncle Skills. I guess he can come." His eager little face turned down in a frown when he noticed her red eyes. "Are you okay, Aunt Brooke?"
Brooke forced herself to smile, rubbing her hands up and down Jamie's arms. "I'm good, buddy. I'm just really hungry. Grab your coat. We'll call Uncle Skills on the way out."
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"This ain't happening."
Brooke looked over at Anton "Skills" Tanner in the seat next to her, his dark skinned face a shade lighter as he stared off into space. The waiting room of Tree Hill General Hospital was quiet, which seemed to only add to their fear and stress.
Jamie was sitting a couple seat down from them, his legs swinging back and forth as he contentedly ate the slice of pizza they'd picked up from the hospital cafeteria. If he was confused by the fact they were eating in a hospital, he didn't voice his concerns.
Brooke sighed, nodding her head. "Yeah," she said softly, running a hand through her dark hair. "You know, maybe this is some mistake. Right? I mean, it happens all the time. Licenses get mixed up, or a misprint on some form or something…I mean…it can happen, right?"
She was rambling, she knew. But even as she felt Skills take ahold of her hand, she knew that it was all pointless.
There was no mistake.
She groaned, shaking her head. "God, I wish someone would tell us something," she muttered, her eyes traveling to the lone nurse sitting behind the admissions desk.
They hadn't heard a word since they'd arrived at the hospital nearly 3 hours ago. Dr. Martin Castle—and salt-and-pepper haired man with tired eyes but a kind smile—had told them that Nathan and Haley's car had been hit by a pick-up truck operated by a man under the influence. Their car had fishtailed before flipping over into a ditch. First responders on the scene had told them Nathan was unconscious when they arrived, while Haley had been drifting in and out of it. They both had severe internal injuries and had been rushed to surgery where they were "going to do all they could," he'd told them quietly, his eyes taking in the oblivious little boy that had followed them inside.
Then he'd disappeared behind the swinging glass doors, leaving Brooke and Skills to worry and wait.
"It's taking a long time," Skills commented, his brown eyes following hers to the doors in question. "That's a good sign, right?"
They both jumped to their feet when they caught sight of Dr. Castle sliding through the doors, removing the white paper mask from his face. His seasoned eyes sought them out in the sparsely populated room, and Brooke felt her heart stop at the look on his face. She turned to Skills, her eyes darting to Jamie. "Keep an eye on him," she whispered. "I'll go see what's going on."
Skills nodded, squeezing her hand reassuringly, before he moved towards Jamie, his face bursting into a goofy grin as he sunk down into the seat next to him.
Brooke took a deep breath and made her way to the waiting doctor, every step making her heart race faster in her chest. God, please…if You're there and You're listening….please don't let this happen.
She watched as Dr. Castle folded his arms across his broad chest, his eyes softening as she came to a stop in front of her. He was silent for a long moment, taking a deep breath before he shook his head slowly. "I'm sorry, Miss Davis," he said softly. "We lost them."
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We lost them.
Those would be the words that would haunt her until the day she died.
Those next few seconds had passed in her blur as her face had crumbled. She had vaguely made out the phrases "internal bleeding," "too much damage," and "severe blood loss." She'd forced her ears to shut out the details when he described the head injuries Haley had sustained from crashing through the windshield; the trauma Nathan had experienced when the airbag had failed to deploy.
She'd only been able to turn towards Skills and Jamie, and stare at them in agony. Skills had known from that first look at her face, and she'd watched the usually so stoic basketball player crumble before her eyes, his brawny arm wrapping around Jamie's shoulders as the boy stared up at him in confusion.
Their whole world had changed in that short instant.
And now here they were.
Brooke sighed, casting one last glance at the sleeping boy before she silently closed the door behind her, running her hand through her hair as she made her way towards her own bedroom. She flicked on the light switch as she shouldered open the door, squinting slightly as her eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness. She flipped on the television as she crossed to her closet, pulling her shirt off over her head.
The late night news program was running coverage from the hit and run accident, and she turned to watch the young reporter give details that she knew all too well.
She'd heard about the other accidents lately, and knew of the rumors that were quickly spreading through the city. The words serial killer seemed to be a popular phrase nowadays. She'd learned not to jump to conclusions, though, until a member of the NYPD confirmed it.
The NYPD…
Her hand traveled to her back pocket, her fingers sliding the business card from between the folds of denim. The name Detective Donald Flack Jr. was printed in bold in the bottom corner, with the number she assumed was his station.
She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but something in the detective's riveting blue eyes had captured her in their short exchange. She'd been surprised when the handsome man had talked to Jamie as if the four-year-old was a full-grown adult. He didn't talk to her over his head, or not meet his eyes when he asked him a question. He'd been friendly, and kind, seeming to know that the boy needed to be put at ease. His eyes had danced with laughter when Jamie had brought up Chester, the floppy eared bunny that was now housed in the corner of Jamie's room. He'd hung on Jamie's every word, never once brushing off his statements as delusions of a small child.
And then there was that shock…
She held up her right hand, moving her fingers slowly. She knew he had felt it too, by the surprised expression that had appeared on his handsome face. He'd stared into her eyes then, almost as if he was searching for something, before she'd turned away.
She didn't have time for those feelings right now. Not while she had Jamie.
Her gaze drifted to the business card again.
But those blue eyes of his were sure to be making an appearance in her dreams tonight.
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The Hillstreet Diner was crowded with the evening dinner rush, the murmur of dozens conversation buzzing in Flack's ears as he stepped inside, shoving his keys deep into his pocket as he approached the counter. He caught the eye of the hostess, who smiled and held up a finger to indicate he should wait, and he nodded, taking the moment to rub the back of his tensed neck.
This hit-and-run spree was getting worse, and he was feeling the heat. The time in between attacks was getting shorter. It had been less than 72 hours after the attack outside Central Park, then another 48 before another victim piled up. Every accident was the same: a large, tinted vehicle sat idling in a parking spot before it roared after the victim as they were crossing a street.
The driver was getting more violent now, as well, also seeming to aim for other passerby's as he sped away. They had counted at least 4 injuries after the last casualty.
And still they were no closer to catching the son of bitch than they were two weeks ago.
Flack sighed, crossing his arms over his chest as he surveyed the packed diner. He'd be waiting awhile for his seat, he came to realize. Nearly every booth and stool was occupied. He could always eat back at his apartment, but he'd skipped lunch in order to interview a suspect, a lead that had led nowhere. If he ate at home, that would require a trip to the supermarket, followed by food preparation and all that goes along with it.
He was fine waiting for a spot to free up.
His eyes were drawn to a back corner booth on the opposite side of the diner, and he frowned as he studied the woman and child that were seated there.
"I'll be damned," he said under his breath, unable to help the smile that was tugging at the corner of his lips. Framed by a mess of dark curls, the hazel eyes that had plagued his thoughts for the last week were raising to meet his. He saw her head tilt slightly to the side as she looked at him, and he felt almost giddy when she smiled in recognition. She raised a hand in greeting, and he glanced back at the hostess, seeing her still engaged in conversation with one of the waitresses, before walking towards the corner booth.
"Well, hello there, Detective," Brooke said, smiling when he came to the edge of their seat.
Flack smiled, letting his eyes pass over her form fleetingly. She hadn't changed much in a week, but she sure as hell was prettier than he remembered. Her dark hair fell into curls over her shoulder tonight, seeming to stand out against the light green sweater than hugged her curves nicely. Her hazel eyes were shining as she looked up at him, and he realized that the dimples on each side of her cheek were so stunning he could barely wrap his head around it.
Across the booth from her, Jamie looked up at him, his smiling mouth smeared with chocolate ice cream. "Hi, Detective Flack," he said enthusiastically, waving an equally chocolate covered hand at him.
Flack laughed, reaching over to ruffle the boy's hair with his hand. "Hey, there, champ," he said, smiling, finding himself pleased that the boy had remembered his name. He let his gaze travel back to Brooke. "Miss Davis."
Brooke smiled, shaking her head slightly. "Brooke," she insisted.
"Don," he said in reply. "I'm surprised to see you two here. I'm assuming you've heard about the steak and cobbler this joint has, huh?"
Jamie shook his head before Brooke could answer. "Aunt Brooke broke the stove."
He laughed when Brooke looked at her nephew and arched an eyebrow, her lips turning into an affectionate smirk as she shook her head slowly back and forth. "Yikes…so she's treating you out some good old fashioned city cooking, then, huh?" Jamie nodded, turning back to his bowl of ice cream as he shoved a spoonful into his mouth. He turned his attention back to the pretty brunette, smiling.
"It's not as bad as it sounds," she said, rolling her eyes.
"You sure?" Don replied, smiling. "'Cause breaking the stove, that sounds pretty bad." She laughed, pushing a strand of hair behind her ears, and he felt his skin nearly tingle with the sound of it. What was it about this girl?
"Well, not every single girl can be a domesticated goddess like everybody thinks she should be," Brooke replied, shrugging helplessly even as a teasing smile worked its way across her face.
He tried not to let the term "single girl" get to him too bad as he nodded, pursing his lips. "Domesticated goddesses are over-rated, if you ask me. Now a girl that knows her way around a take-out menu, that's one to keep around. And by the way Jamie here is nodding, I'm guessing you lean more towards that direction," he said with a smile, sending the blonde haired kid a wink as he giggled at his aunt's mock-glare. He laughed. "Well, you chose a good place. Like I said, the steak and cobbler is something to write home about."
"Mmm. So you're picking up some after a hard day at the office, huh?" Brooke asked, folding her arms on the tabletop, her fingers tracing the edge of the plate before her, the grilled chicken half-eaten upon it.
"Eh, trying to," he said, his eyes scouring the diner once more. "Guess I forgot how packed this place gets around dinner. I'll be lucky to get a seat before they close up for the night."
Whatever Brooke's response to his observation was, it was cut off by the appearance of the harried hostess, her blonde ponytail bobbing as she came up to him. "Hey, sir, sorry about that," she said, smiling broadly as she looked at him. "It's a madhouse in here tonight. Um…I'm afraid there's going to be about a 20 minute wait for a seat…"
Flack nodded at the apologetic expression on the girl's face, and he opened his mouth to ask if carryout was a possibility when Brooke cleared her throat next to him.
"You know, we have room here," she said hesitantly, indicating the room on either side of the booth. "You're…welcome to join us…if you want." She arched an eyebrow. "You know…if you don't mind eating with a take-out menu kind of girl."
Flack shook his head at her, a wide smile spreading across his face. "You promise not to break the table next?" he asked.
Brooke laughed.
Oh, it was on.
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Flack grinned as he glanced over his shoulder, spotting Jamie's blond head peeking up from the booth two rows behind him, where'd he raced off to when a friend from dayschool has entered the diner 15 minutes ago. He couldn't help but laugh at the dopey faces he and his little friend were sending his way, and he shook his head when he turned back to look at Brooke.
She was laughing too, her gorgeous smile seeming to light up her entire face as she watched her nephew.
The magazine covers did not do her justice.
After their brief interview, Flack had wracked his brain, trying to remember where he'd seen the beautiful brunette before. Her eyes and smile had been so familiar to him, even though he knew he'd never stood face to face with her before that afternoon.
It wasn't until two days later, when he was interviewing a newsstand employee with Stella, that he spotted the magazine wedged between Vanity Fair and Vogue. Brooke Davis' smiling face had peered back at him from the cover of B. Davis, the official magazine of Clothes Over Bros., one of the leading fashion lines in New York City. He'd stood there gaping like a fool, baffled at how he'd never connected the woman he'd interviewed to the fashionista whose stores lined the streets of the city.
He had thought then and there that that was it. What were the odds he'd ever see Brooke Davis again?
And yet here he was, sitting in a booth across from the girl herself, and was actually having an enjoyable time.
"The kid's a pistol," he said, taking a drink of his Coke as he peered at her over the rim of his glass.
Brooke laughed, nodding. "This is nothing," she said, smiling. "You should see him after Saturday morning cartoons and two bowls of Frosted Flakes. For some reason, it gets his juices flowing." She shook her head. "His dad was the same way when we were kids, though, so I guess it shouldn't surprise me."
Flack nodded, drumming his fingers against the table as he caught the sad glint in her eyes. "I'm going to take a wild guess and say his parents aren't around?"
She met his gaze, nodding slowly, a sad smile on her face. "They died in a car crash last year," she said softly, tucking a strand of behind her ear, an action he noticed she did when she was uncomfortable or nervous. "I'm Jamie's godmother, so his custody was left to me."
"I'm sorry," he said, his voice soft with sympathy. "That's a tough break for the kid."
She shrugged, smiling. "He's tough. It took him a little while to understand that Nathan and Haley were gone, and not just on some vacation or something. He was sad…still is. But it's getting better for him, I think." She smiled when Jamie stuck his tongue out at her from behind his booth, laughing loudly when he ducked back down with his friend when she spotted him. "He didn't want to stay in Tree Hill after the accident, and I told him we could move anywhere he wanted. He chose New York, because he wanted to see the 'Emperor State Building.'" She chuckled. "Anyway, I lived here when I first started the company, so moving back wasn't a tough adjustment. A couple friends moved up here a few months ago, in part I think to help me out with him, but mostly because they missed him, I think. And he was thrilled to have his grandma and Uncle Skills around again, so…"
"Please tell me Skills is a nickname," he grinned.
"Yeah, it is," Brooke laughed, nodding. "Not really quite sure how it came about, but it sure stuck around. It helps having them here, though. I love Jamie more than anything, but when you're covered head to toe in spaghetti sauce after having just lost horribly in a game of silverware lightsaber dueling, those extra set of hands are a blessing in disguise."
Flack laughed, an image of Brooke and Jamie fighting in the kitchen with whisks and spatulas coursing through his head. "Man, who knew fashion designers led such glamorous lives as you do, huh?" he joked, watching as she smiled and tilted her head to the side.
"Ah, so the handsome detective follows the fashion trades, huh?"
He shook his head, smiling. "It took me awhile. I knew I'd seen you before, but I didn't realize just where until a few days later at a newsstand with a colleague of mine." He furrowed his brow, her statement finally reaching his mind. "Handsome?" He saw her pale cheeks turn pink with an embarrassed blush, and he grinned. "You hitting on me, there, Miss Davis?"
"No," she defended, smiling as a hand came up to cover her tinged cheek. "No, I was simply just making a statement. You can't tell me you missed the crushy eyes the hostess shot your way earlier."
He looked over at the hostess in question, catching her gaze as she stared at him, and she flashed a brilliant smile when she caught his eyes. He smiled, turning back in his seat to see Brooke smirking at him, her eyebrows raised.
"You can't tell me that's the first time something like that has happened. With your eyes? I bet you're the heartbreaker of the station, Detective Flack. Probably can't leave a single girl unaffected."
He grinned, tossing his elbow over the curve of the booth behind him. "How's it working on you?"
"Oooh, who's hitting on who, now?" she asked, laughing.
"Eh, why don't we call it a mutual thing and just skip ahead to where I ask you to dinner and you say yes?" The smile slipped from her face slightly, his words seeming to catch her off guard. "What, did the eyes stop working all of a sudden?"
Brooke chuckled, shaking her head as she dropped her gaze to her hands on the tabletop. "No, believe me, they're working," she said softly. She sighed, smiling at him again when she raised her head. "It's just…I don't want to push all this on you."
He frowned. "All what?"
She held up her hands. "This. The whole single-parent thing. It's a lot to ask somebody to accept, Don."
"Accept what? Jamie?" He glanced over his shoulder, where Jamie and his friend were now sitting contently on their knees in the booth, busily enthralled by a game of thumb wars. He turned back, meeting her gaze. "The kid's great, Brooke. I really can't remember the last time I've had as much fun as I've had with him. If he's the biggest thing I've got to adjust to with you…" He caught her brief smile, and he leaned his elbows against the table, tilting his head towards her. "You know, last week, I was convinced I was never going to see you again. And I was kicking myself for not doing anything before you rounded the corner that afternoon, disappearing into nowhere. And then, on a whim, I walk in here and there you are. Now, I don't know about you, but I think that it's a little more than coincidence. I mean, come on…out of every diner in the city, we both end up at the this one?
"You can't tell me you didn't feel that…whatever the hell it was…that afternoon we met." The way her face seemed to shift slightly, he knew she remembered it well. "Look…I'm out of my league here, Brooke. I don't know what's going on or not going on. I don't have the faintest clue in hell what it is about you that just…makes my head spin. But it does." He looked into her eyes then, still seeing the resistance warring within him. "I really want to know you, Brooke. I want to know you, and I want to know Jamie. And, as much as it pains me to say it, if you want to do it just as friends, then that's fine. But I'm really hoping you don't."
Brooke could feel her defenses weakening with every word he was speaking.
She was a liar if she said he hadn't plagued her thoughts just as much as he claimed she had. She could still remember that fierce tingling that had lasted in her fingers for what seemed like hours after she'd gotten home from the park that day. She still felt the ridiculous smile she'd worn every time Jamie talked about the "awesome" detective that talked to him about Chester and superheroes, and called him champ. Or the way she'd stared at that business card on her bedside table every day for the last week, her fingers itching to dial the phone and hear his voice again. And feeling unbelievably foolish, considering that her interaction with the man had been minimal; a few minutes at best.
But, as he had pointed out, now here she sat.
And, as she'd come to find out the last few years, she didn't believe in coincidences.
She smiled, rolling her eyes. "Like I said. No girl left unaffected." She laughed when his boyish grin spread across his face again, and she couldn't help but shake her head. "Jesus, you'd think you'd just won the lottery with that grin."
Flack shrugged, realizing at that moment just how much he loved her smile and her laugh. "For all I know, I just did."
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So yeah, this story has gotten a bigger reception than I honestly thought it would. :-)
I think I'm going to continue on with it, because I'm loving Brooke and Flack together. Thanks for not flaming me or anything with the revelation that Nathan and Haley died. I promise that we'll get more into that in a couple chapters, but I just wanted to kind of set up the opening for the rest of the story.
Anyway, let me know what you guys think!
