The Second Hand on the Clock is Always Ticking

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Time passes. Even when it seems impossible. Even when each tick of the second hand aches like the pulse of blood behind a bruise. It passes unevenly, in strange lurches and dragging lulls, but pass it does. (Stephenie Meyer)

Brooke paced back and forth in her living room, her eyes watching the phone through each step as she silently willed it to ring. It had been 16 hours since the plane carrying Angie out of her left had departed and she was anxious to hear that the little girl she'd fallen completely in love with had arrived home safely.

Her eyes glanced at the clock on the wall, sunlight washing through the window to illuminate its face. The clock read 11:35 am, and Brooke realized it was still too early to hear anything. After all, the flight time itself to India was 19 hours, plus the hour layover the social workers told her about when they'd taken the baby from her arms.

She walked back to the couch and plopped down dejectedly, a stray tear running down her cheek as she remembered that moment when Angie had disappeared into the crowd. Only one thing had saved her from taking permanent residence on the airport floor: Lucas' presence.

He'd held her in the airport as she cried and lifted her from the floor when her legs had become too weak to hold up her burdened heart, and then he'd brought her home. Lucas' words earlier that night gave her hope the way they had the night he showed her what he'd written about her in his first book. In her moments of self doubt over the years she's thought of the words her read to her by the window and they gave her strength, the same way his words gave her strength last night when her world was faltering.

Lucas had been there for her when she needed him and Brooke knew he always would be but in a way, she felt that she'd lost him too when she lost Angie. Lucas had been there for all of Brooke and Angie's defining moments and the three of them felt like the family Brooke had always wanted. It had made her long for what she and Lucas once shared and what she'd dreamt of sharing with him when she believed they had a future.

A couple hours after he'd left, Lucas called her but Brooke had been on the phone desperately trying to get an update on Angie but there had been no news. When she'd tried calling him back, it went straight to voicemail and she'd hung up without leaving a message.

She picked up the cell phone lying on the coffee table and scrolled through her pictures, stopping on one of Angie and Lucas. They had taken her to the beach one Sunday before her surgery.

Lucas took Angie to the shore and sat there with her as the waves splashed them. "I told you she'd like it," he turned to Brooke before focusing back on the little girl in his arms.

Angie began to giggle as she slapped the water with her hand and Brooke couldn't help think of how adorable she and Lucas looked. She quickly ran to her bag and pulled out her cell phone, taking their picture.

"You're such a pretty girl," Lucas said to Angie before turning his smiling face to Brooke. "Just like your mama."

Brooke was brought out of her memory as the light on her phone turned off, leaving the picture no longer visible, she sat solemnly.

"Angie's gone, Lucas is gone," she said to herself, sobbing. "And Peyton…" Brooke scanned down to her best friend's number, calling her for the seventh time since she'd realized her blonde friend had not come home last night.

"Hi, you've reached Peyton…" her message came through and Brooke quickly disconnected.

"And now Peyton's gone too," Brooke shook her head as the water began to fill her eyes. "I have no one."

"You're wrong dear," a voice called to Brooke from across the room. "Despite the way you've behaved," she walked into the room. "You still have me."

Brooke wanted to sob even harder at the moment but she clenched her jaw instead, refusing to let the woman in front of her see her broken. "Hello Mother."

Peyton sat back in her chair, eyes fixated out the window at the planes on the strip. She couldn't believe it had been 14 hours since she'd received that call from Lucas, nonchalantly asking her if she wanted to get married as if he were asking if she'd like to grab a cup of coffee after work.

Her first reaction was shock and after a few minutes of silence, he'd asked her again. She wasn't sure if it was some cruel joke; if he'd gotten drunk again and decided once again that he did actually hate her. But his voice had sounded so void of cruelty, void of emotion period, and her initial instinct was just to go to him.

"Luke," she walked up to him carrying only a shoulder bag. "What's going on?"

He stood up and made his way towards her. "You came?"

"Of course I came Lucas," she gave him a sad smile. "I love you."

"Good," he smiled, "because I love you too." He fidgeted in his pocket for a moment before pulling out a deep velvet blue ring box.

"Lucas," her eyes grew wide as she wondered if she should pinch herself to make sure it was really happening. "This isn't a dream." Her voice was soft.

"Peyton Elizabeth Sawyer," he stepped closer to her, reaching out and taking her hand in his free one. "Will you marry me?" He flicked the lid open and turned it towards her.

"Oh Luc…" her face suddenly dropped. "It's the same ring." She pulled her hand back from him as her voice grew louder. "Lindsay's ring?"

"Peyton," he reached for her again but she stepped back.

"The same ring Lucas?" irritation and hurt had taken over her features. "What, did you call Lindsay first and she said no so you called me? Did you try Brooke too? Or maybe Anna or Rachel; they had a thing for you didn't they?"

"Of course not Peyton," Lucas snapped the box shut, his voice irritated as well. "What do you want from me Peyton? You just got done telling me this was your dream."

"Lindsay's ring is not my dream," her voice cracked as she fought back tears.

"It's not Lindsay's ring," Lucas said firmly.

Peyton shook her head incredulously. "I saw it Luke, it's the same…"

"Peyton," his voice was vociferous. "It's not Lindsay's ring; it's your ring!"

She blinked hard. "What?" she studied him, almost as if she were studying him.

Lucas ran a hand over his head and exhaled deeply, his voice softer now as he spoke. "You never even saw it."

"You kept it?" her voice grew soft too as realization hit. "All this time…" she smiled through blurry eyes.

"Yes," he answered.

"Brooke told me but…" she watched as some indescribable emotion flashed in his eyes at the mention of her best friend's name but shook it off. "That's my ring?" Peyton looked up at him with expectant eyes.

"It always belonged to you," he took the ring out of the box and held her hand. "I'm going to ask you again."

Peyton nodded as happy tears began to cascade down her cheeks.

He looked her directly in her eyes. "Will you marry me?"

"Yes, yes! A thousand time yes!" she answered excitedly as she stuck out her left arm, her hand shaking as he slipped the diamond ring on her finger. "Baby, I love you." She beamed as she leapt into his arms.

"Let's go get married," Lucas said happily as he swung the giggling blonde around in his arms.

Peyton sat back in her seat, thinking that moment had been perfect. It was everything a proposal and an acceptance should be; the kind she'd watch on television when she secretly rented some girly movie. It was what had come after that had not been so perfect. When it came to Las Vegas and them, it seemed the house laughed as it won.

She looked at the rest of the people in the terminal lounge, most likely waiting for their own connecting flights, before turning to look at the blonde boy who fallen asleep in the chair beside her as a woman began announcing their flight number.

"Luke," she shook him slightly. "Hey sleepy head, we're boarding now." She stood over him, offering him her hand.

Lucas stretched for a moment before taking the outstretched hand and smiling.

She returned his smile before saying, "It's time to go home."

"Hey," Haley stood in front of her husband holding out a cup of coffee towards him. "Guess there's no change yet; no Lucas either?"

Nathan looked up from the cell phone in his hands, eyes slightly swollen and bloodshot form lack of sleep and unshed tears. "No," he shook his head. "It still keeps going to voicemail."

She nodded as he retrieved the cup from her still outstretched hand and then sat next to him, comfortingly holding his free hand as he took a drink.

Nathan squeezed her hand in silent appreciation. "How's Jimmy Jam?" He turned to look at her.

"He's fine," she attempted a smile but fell short. "Skills is keeping him busy."

He nodded, silently berating himself for the last conversation he had with the man he used to call his father.

Haley brought their interlocked hands up and kissed his, already knowing what he was thinking. "You have no reason to feel guilty Nathan."

"Hales, I told him I didn't care," he sat the cup on the table next to him before running a hand through his hair. "I told him I didn't care he was dying. What kind of person says something like that?"

"One who has been hurt deeply," she replied. "Dan did some awful things Nathan; things you can't just say sorry for and move on. He hurt you. And he hurt Lucas and Karen. He hurt this family."

"And I know all that but I still shouldn't have said it because…" Nathan breathed out, unable to finish.

"Because even though you feel like you shouldn't, you do care," Haley supplied for him before offering him a soft smile. "And believe me Nathan, Dan does know that."

"Does he?" Nathan questioned. "I didn't know I did till the hospital called. Dan destroyed this family when he killed Uncle Keith." His face tensed as he continued to speak. "I thought he'd changed you know," he exhaled deeply, "when he took the blame for Dante and all that time he was hiding what he did to his own brother. He was going after Karen while she was pregnant with Keith's baby; I mean that's sick." He shook his head, trying to subside the anger that was welling up inside. "He played me Hales. He played me and he played Karen and I hate him. I want to hate him and I should but…"

"He's still your father," Haley finished for him.

"And Jamie loves him, you know." He sighed. "And I keep thinking of what this is going to do to him if Dan doesn't make it." Nathan paused briefly, looking up at the clock. "He's been in there a long time, hasn't he?"

"Yeah," Haley answered softly, her eyes traveling up to the clock as well as the fell into a comfortable silence.

Brooke sat with her arms across her chest, glaring at her mother who was across the room, chatting on her cell phone about some event she would be pleased to attend.

"Yes," Victoria spoke into her phone in an airy voice. "Please give Richard and the children our best. Goodbye Melody." She hung up the phone and walked towards Brooke, crossing her arms over her chest in the same fashion. "Well…"

"Well what?" Brooke looked up at her mother and suddenly felt as if she'd shrunken back into some defiant child.

"Well I'm waiting for some sort of greeting," Victoria replied. "When a guest is in your home you usually offer them a drink or to have a seat at the very least."

"Guests usually knock," Brooke rolled her eyes. "But I guess you missed that chapter in Emily Post."

"I see we're still in a mood," Victoria said flippantly. "Not ready to apologize yet; I can wait." She walked over to the chair near the end of the couch Brooke was furthest from and sat down, crossing her legs.

Brooke exhaled deeply. "What are you doing her Victoria?"

She squinted at her daughter. "I thought I'd made that clear. I am here to accept your apology and to come back to work."

"To come back to work," the younger brunette repeated. "Are you insane Mother? You sabotaged my chance to adopt a child and you actually believe that I'd hire you back after that."

"Brooke, I did what was best for you. Look how it turned out," Victoria waved her arm. "You got to help some baby in need get her heart surgery and then return her home to her parents, where she belongs."

"How do you know all that?" Brooke asked. "Are you having me followed?"

"Of course not," she scoffed. "It's all over the magazines; that's what I wanted to show you." She reached inside her cache case and pulled out several magazines, tossing them across the coffee table. "Clothes Ova Bros founder saves children, Brooke Davis gives back, Baby inspires Brooke Davis; everyone's done a story." She paused momentarily as she fanned them out. "US Weekly, Life and Style, OK, and now People want an interview. Plus we can do a whole article in B. Davis."

Brooke exhaled deeply. "Mother…"

"Daughter," she interrupted. "This is great for business, you helping this child and starting an infant line; it's perfect. You're like the new Angelina." She smiled. "And if I hadn't spoken to that social worker you'd be bogged down with some screaming baby instead of basking in the glow of a public relation's dream."

"You want me to thank you?" Brooke stood up. "Do you know what giving Angie up did to me? Do you even care?"

"What it did for you is drive up your stock and your sales up," Victoria stood up as well. "And it brought me back." She reached over and cupped her daughter's face. "Look around Brooke. When all is said and done, after everything you've done for these people, who is here for you now? Is it Rachel or that other offspring of Dan Scott or even that lowlife best friend of yours?" She looked her directly in the eye. "Not one of them is here for you now but I am. I am here to help you just like I helped you with your company. If didn't care, do you think I would be here?"

Brooke stared at her mother, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill. For so long she wanted, she needed to feel like her mother cared about her, She tried so hard to make Victoria want to be a mother to her, to make her love her but after everything they'd gone through and losing Angie, she just felt emotionally exhausted.

"Brooke," Victoria was still staring at her.

"I can't," she shook her head. "I can't deal with you right now. I'll be upstairs." She grabbed both her cordless and cell phone before heading to her room, leaving Victoria standing there stunned.

Lucas glanced at Peyton, who was sleeping soundly next to him, before turning back to look at the clouds out of the window. He looked down at his watch, realizing they'd only been airborne about forty minutes.

When Peyton had insisted they fly back to Tree Hill immediately Lucas had acted disappointed but truthfully, he couldn't wait to get back. The impromptu engagement had gone pretty well but once they'd arrived in Vegas, everything that could go wrong did. Lucas felt like he and Peyton were suddenly in some demonstration for Murphy's Law and that had him questioning if calling Peyton really had been the right choice.

He loved Peyton; that much he was sure of but still his mind had been plagued with questions. What if we're not in love anymore? Has hanging on to each other just made us unable to let go? Was our disastrous trip to the wedding that didn't happen just a sign that it wasn't meant to be?

Lucas smiled for a moment as he thought about Brooke. She had told him once that people who were meant to be together always found their way in the end. At the time he'd thought about his mother and Keith and then the two of them when Brooke finally broke things off with Felix. And then when their relationship ended, he wondered if it was Peyton he was meant to be with and then Lindsay. He shook his head and placed a hand against his forehead wearily, ashamed to admit that even now he wasn't sure who he was meant to be with.

He'd sat in that airport in Tree Hill, holding two airline tickets to Vegas and scanning down the contact names in his phone, pausing over three separate names in particular. He'd called Brooke first, knowing she could probably use an escape after everything she'd been through recently, but was answered by the automatic message of her voicemail. Lucas still wasn't sure what he would have said had she answered but she didn't, so he'd left a generic message about checking up on her. He'd scrolled down to Lindsay's name next, alphabetically it came before Peyton, but he'd quickly hung up. If he was truthful with himself, he had never been in love with Lindsay. Not the way he had been with Brooke and not the way he had been with Peyton. He'd noticed later that Lindsay actually called him the same time and left a message but that was after he'd made his third call, his final call to Peyton and the words "Do you want to get married tonight?" had already been spoken.

"Hey," Peyton's eyes fluttered open. "Have we been in the air long?"

"No," he shook his head, his eyes still far away.

"You're thinking about her too, aren't you?" there was no accusation in her voice. "I wish you would have told me before we left that she had to give Angie back."

"I'm sorry Peyton," Lucas breathed deeply. "I just…"

"I know," she interrupted, sending a smile his way. "When you asked me, I was just so happy Luke. You know how much I want to marry you right?"

"Of course I do," he held her hand in his.

"It's just Brooke needed me, you know?" Peyton paused, the guilt lying heavy on her chest. "I was getting my dream and she was losing hers. This baby, having a baby means everything to her and to have Angie taken away from her earlier than she expected, it has to be killing her Luke."

He nodded. Lucas had seen first hand how devastated Brooke was the moment Angie was out of view.

"She came back to Tree Hill because I needed her to. Brooke is always there whenever I need her and now she needs me," Peyton turned to look at him. "That's why we couldn't get married; that's why everything was a disaster. It was karma Luke."

"Peyton," he said sympathetically but he wondered if she was partially right. He'd know what kind of pain Brooke had been in and he'd taken off with her best friend anyways.

"The losing the luggage, that Garden of Love chapel we chose closing down, the flood Lucas; I mean I don't know how much more of Vegas I could take." Peyton shook her head. "And ever since you told me about Brooke and Angie, I've felt horrible Luke. I was thinking what did I do to deserve this and then I got my answer. I'm a bad friend."

"You are not a bad friend. The minute I told you, you decided we were coming back," Lucas replied. "I should feel horrible; I do feel horrible." He shook is head. "I was just going through a lot and I just needed to get out of there."

"It's okay," she smiled softly. "I don't blame you. I just don't want Brooke to think that because we're together that she doesn't matter. I made that mistake before."

Lucas nodded knowingly.

"I just keep getting this feeling I can't shake," the blonde woman took a deep breath. "I can't explain it but I just feel like there's something… I don't know." She placed her hands over her chest and exhaled. "We have to get home Lucas, she needs us." Peyton turned to look at him. "Brooke needs me."

Nathan stood over his father's bed, looking down at the man who'd once seemed so much larger than life. He couldn't help but think how vulnerable and helpless Dan looked at the moment. Nathan studied him; the tubes that flowed down his arms and in his nose, giving him all the fluid and oxygen he needed and the steady rhythmic beeping of the machines. His head was bandaged, his face covered in abrasions, and his body looked weaker that Nathan could ever remember it being.

The doctor had told him and Haley the initial surgery went well and that they'd been able to stop the internal bleeding fairly quickly. He'd explained that things would be touch and go for a while and that once Dan was stable he would require more surgery as well. The doctor used a lot of fancy words to explain it all but the gist that Nathan understood was that Dan as of now was still at great risk.

"Hey," Haley stepped inside the room. "I just got off the phone with your mom. She's going to come down."

"For what?" Nathan shrugged half heartedly. "I mean I know they were married for a long time but after everything that's gone down between them…" he exhaled deeply. "It's kind of weird Hales. Why would she want to come down here?"

"For you," she replied softly as she came to stand beside her husband, taking his hand in hers. "She wants to be here to support you."

"I don't even know why we're here," Nathan shook his head. "I miss him, you know?" He looked at her, then directed his eyes back to the man lying in the hospital bed. "We used to have these father son weekends at the beach house or out at the lake. We'd surf or fish and then we'd grill out. And we used to actually play basketball just for the game." He let out an exasperated breath. "Then he just changed. I don't know what happened. He just changed and it scares me."

Haley just looked at him lovingly, waiting for him to continue.

"I think about that man back then and he was my hero you know; we were so close just like me and Jamie are," Nathan paused briefly. "What if I turn out like Dan? After the accident I was so…" he shook his head. "What if I'm doomed to repeat my father's mistakes?"

"Nathan Royal Scott," Haley said firmly although love was still apparent in her voice. "Look at me." She waited for him to comply. "You are nothing like Dan Scott. You are kind and generous and full of love. You are an amazing father who would do anything to protect your son and make him happy, not tear him down. You are a great brother to Lucas and a loyal friend and a terrific husband. The man I married is nothing like the man in that bed."

Nathan was quiet for a moment, letting her words sink in. "I love you Haley James Scott." He looked down at her.

"I know," she smiled up at him before placing her hand on his cheek and bringing his face down to kiss him tenderly. "I love you too." After they broke apart, she studied him for a moment. What else did the doctor say while I was gone?"

Nathan exhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I don't want this responsibility."

"What did he say Nathan?" she peered at him concerned. "I thought he said Dan came through it well."

"He did but his heart is still failing," Nathan explained. "They have a donor but Dan may be too weak and…" he let the rest of the sentence hang in the air. "They need approval from his next of kin."

"Meaning you and Lucas," Haley supplied.

He nodded, the weight he was feeling apparent in his features. "Luke should be here too! Where the hell is he?"

The petite brunette took out her cell phone for what seemed like the hundredth time and called her brother in law. "It's ringing instead of going straight to voicemail this time," she looked at her husband. "That's a good sign."

Nathan scoffed as Haley turned her attention back to the cell phone.

"Lucas!" she spoke as soon as she heard the phone pick up.

"Haley?" his voice carried through the phone.

"Lucas Eugene Scott, where the hell have you been?" she scolded. "Nathan and I have been calling you like crazy."

"I just got off the plane," he replied.

She blinked in surprise. "The plane?"

Lucas began to explain. "Yeah, I just needed to…"

"Forget it; It doesn't matter," she cut him off. "You need to get to the hospital now."

"The hospital?" Lucas questioned as Haley heard a woman's voice ask him what was going on.

"Who is with you?" Haley asked. She remembered her last conversation with him about hiding his heart and as she thought about it, she hadn't heard from Brooke, Peyton, or even Lindsay.

"Peyton," he answered nonchalantly. "Wait, who is at the hospital?" His features grew worried. "Is it Jamie?"

"No, Jamie's fine," Haley glanced back at the man in the hospital bed. "It's Dan," she said solemnly. "And it's bad okay; just get here Luke, Nathan needs you. I'll see you soon."

Lucas froze for a moment as he heard Haley hang up.

"Lucas," Peyton stood in front of him, trying to look into his down cast eyes. "Lucas."

He put the phone back in his pocket before slowly looking up at her.

She looked at him expectantly. "What is it Luke? Is it Jamie?"

"No," he answered quietly. "We have to go meet Haley and Nathan." His eyes had a faraway look in them as he spoke in a voice barely above a whisper.

"Is it Brooke?" her green eyes grew wide. "I've been so worried about her; we never should have left. I have to go to her now."

"Peyton," he grabbed her by the arm, his voice still soft but firmer. "It's not Brooke." He shook his head before he finally ended her suspense. "It's Dan," his eyes reflected his inner turmoil. "It's my father."

Brooke broke down the last of the boxes from the shipment she'd unpacked before carrying them into the back near the rear door. She had been here a little over three hours now, taking down inventory and balancing the books in lieu of spending more "quality" time with Victoria.

She'd already gotten the call from the social worker, informing her that Angie arrived safe and sound and was now in the arms of her parents, whose translator told Brooke they'd be forever grateful for what she did and promised to send periodic pictures and updates of Angie. She couldn't have asked for a better phone call; they'd even let Angie coo to her before hanging up.

It warmed her heart how happy Angie sounded but it also broke it because it just made it sink in all the more that the little girl she'd fallen completely in love with was no longer hers.

After some of Victoria's "Sage" advice, Brooke checked in on the store and after the business slowed down, she'd let the sales girl go home fifteen minutes early. She guesses she'd been alone about a half an hour now.

Brooke looked over at the clock, seeing it read 9:30pm, and figured Victoria would gone by now and it may actually be safe to return to her own house. She mused, thinking about getting a security system to keep her mother away. Brooke quickly began jotting some numbers down on a spread sheet, her last remaining task before she'd lock up. As she placed the papers into a drawer, she heard the door open behind her.

"Sorry, we're closed," she closed the drawer and proceeded to lock it, turning around after there was no indication the person had left. "I'm sorry but we're…" Brooke froze as she took notice of a tall, broad man dressed in black and a ski mask. She immediately hit the button to the cash register and stepped back as the drawer opened. "Take it all."

The tall man didn't move, only stared at her with the most haunting pair of gray eyes she'd ever seen.

"Take what you want and go," she stepped back further.

"I will," he replied huskily, the crocked smirk seen through the hole in his mask as he rushed towards her.

Brooke threw the register on the floor, knocking down various items and her purse, before running towards the door. "Take the money," she screamed.

She suddenly felt her body fling back and realized he's grabbed her by her shirt. Brooke elbowed him forcefully and stomped on his foot, forcing him to release his hold on her. She rushed towards the stairs, hoping to trap herself in the upstairs office but he was once again behind her. The cloaked assailant grabbed her leg, causing the brunette to fall backwards to the floor below.

He hovered over her for a moment as she winched in pain, the effects of the fall already taking its toll. As he stepped closer to her, a sadistic gleam in his eyes, she pushed herself backwards.

"Stay away from me!" she said through clenched teeth as she scooted backwards across the floor. She reached behind her and felt the stapler that had fallen to the floor and chucked it at him with all the force she could muster.

The attacker stumbled back as it hit him in the face, a loud growl erupting from his throat as Brooke scurried from the floor and ran towards the back door. He recovered quickly, catching up to Brooke and jerking her back by her hair before slamming her face first into the wall.

"Let go of me!" she screamed as he pulled her back, this time slamming her head into the counter top. Brooke cried out in pain, her skull feeling like it had been set on fire. "Please," she pleaded as tears streamed down her face.

The man gave a dark chuckle as he slammed her head into the counter once again and then pulled out his knife. The crimson color of her own blood was all Brooke could see before her world went black.

Time seemed to pass but Brooke was unsure of how much. Her head was throbbing and there was a piercing pain in her side. She felt her arms being held above her and the weight of his knee on her thigh, the smell of alcohol and sweat on the heavy weight that pinned her. Brooke tried to scream but this time no words came out, only a muffled cry. As she willed her eyes to open through blurry tears, Brooke was greeted with his haunting gray orbs and the hands of the ticking clock before her world turned to black once again.

Stephanie Meyer wrote, "I was thinking about how disjointedly time seemed to flow, passing in a blur at times, with single images standing out more clearly than others. And then, at other times, every second was significant, etched in my mind… Time passes. Even when it seems impossible. Even when each tick of the second hand aches like the pulse of blood behind a bruise. It passes unevenly, in strange lurches and dragging lulls, but pass it does. Even for me."