My goodness, Mark left soooooooooooooooo many things untouched in the BL relationship! I wrote the entire chapter and it just kept going as I added stuff....and so, there'll be one more coming up. So this fic is going to be a three parter. This chapter is actually the shortest, but I think it's best if I break it off here.

Thank you thank you thank you thank you THANK YOU to all those who reviewed my first chapter! I'm glad you all loved it so much. I especially would like to thank all of you who took the time to discuss my writing style. I absolutley love to write and it's good to know that my ability isn't as convoluted as I think. lol

This chapter is dedicated to my regular readers (whom I love, adore, and am shocked to have). Aren't you proud of me for getting this out in 3 months? *smiles* I always feel that my second chapters never do justice to my first....but anyways, hopefully this was worth the wait. And if it's not, well, why do you think it took me so long to get it out? I should've revised it longer...anyhoo.

Please review!

Lucas may seem OOC in this chapter. He's drunk.
Italics are thoughts. Bolded Italics are memories.

B&L

Peyton walks into her new home, trying to smother the feelings of dejection that swirl through her. Lucas hadn't come to check on her like he promised. She'd tried calling him all day but he wouldn't answer.

The lights are off and she wonders if he's even home. She sees a faint glow from the kitchen and walks towards it, finding him slumped on the table, a bottle of vodka gripped tightly in his hand.

"Oh, baby." She rushes towards him and immediately envelops him in her arms. "Shh…shh, it's okay. I'm fine. The baby and I are fine." She continues to whisper soothing words to him, rocking them back and forth trying to get him to come out of his stupor. It took almost 15 minutes before Lucas moved on his own accord. He places shaking hands on Peyton's stomach, eyes lost and blurry from the alcohol.

"Are you and the baby okay?" he sounds like a lost child, calling on Peyton's maternal instincts.

"We're fine, babes. The doctor said we're gonna be okay." It's a lie. The doctor once again strongly cautioned Peyton from carrying on with the pregnancy, but she couldn't tell Lucas that now.

He nods solemnly, his fear finally being put to rest, easing the ache in his chest.

"So let me guess, you got food poisoning from Brooke's breakfast and couldn't get yourself out of bed for the rest of the day?" she laughs, missing Lucas' frown.

"We…we had a fight." Her laughter stops abruptly.

"About what?"

"Everything, really…me not being there for you and the baby…" he sighs, if he was sober, he probably wouldn't bring this up. "She thinks she didn't mean anything, Peyton." His fiancé frowns; he sounds so broken. "She called us a fucking footnote."

Peyton blinks at him, confused. "Yeah, Lucas. You two were young and confused, she gets it now."

For a moment, Lucas squints at her, not completely understanding her, but still somehow bothered by her words. Seconds passed as his mind clicked and his brain made sense of what she was saying.

"You knew?" he whispers, before his voice suddenly blares. "You knew she felt that way?" Peyton steps back, momentarily shocked by his accusing tone.

"Lucas…" she flops her mouth open like a fish out of water, wondering where this anger was coming from. His blurry eyes glare up at her from his seat.

"Well, yeah…she mentioned it a few times last month when she was comforting me about you and Lindsey…it was just her way of reassuring me that no matter who you're with, we'd always end up together in the end."

"People who are meant to be together always find their way in the end."

Lucas shakes his head furiously, trying to rid himself of the memory. He'd accepted long ago that Brooke's words that night had been a lie. People who were meant to be together never found their way. Dan and Karen didn't stay together. Keith and his mom didn't find their way, twice. Haley and Nathan almost didn't make it through their first year of marriage, and when they did a part of him still waited patiently for their eventual break up. He and Brooke didn't last no matter how hard he'd fought. He'd tried to hold on to Peyton, when he felt her slipping away as well only 6 months after their reunion—yet that had gone to shit. And when he tried moving on with Lindsey, tried committing and once again hoping to believe in the words the brunette cheerleader had uttered so many nights ago, he still ended up alone.

He looks up at Peyton, wondering how long it will be before they fall apart as well. She's going to die, the nagging voice in his head chants, prompting Lucas to take another swig of his vodka.

Peyton eyes him wearily, his sullen silence worrying her beyond belief. He was clearly shaken up over this. "Look, Brooke knows we're not in high school anymore. She knows that we were always meant to be together and she's sorry for ever tying to get in the way." Which means what we did was okay. She and Lucas were always meant to be, she didn't have to feel guilty anymore.

Lucas laughs, the sound hollow to Peyton's ears.

"She wasn't the one that kept getting in the way." He bites out before noting the look of pain that crosses her features, and the first ounce of guilt sinks in. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that." He did. "But, she wasn't a footnote, Peyton." His tone left no room for argument, yet his fiancé pushed on.

"Of course she was." She insists, blinking back tears. "And so was Lindsey; Just like Julian was, for me." She needs him to agree with her. Needs him to smile and reassure her that his heart has always been with her, and that the impromptu and sudden proposal was okay because he'd been planning it secretly for years. She needed to believe his book; that all the years he spent longing for someone else, being with someone else was his way of hiding from his true feelings. She needs him to reassure her that it was she he always wanted in his life, like the day they won the state championship.

"I'm sure what you had with them was real," she continues. "It just wasn't....love."

"Like with you and Jake?" The mention of her high school sweet heart surprises Peyton. She hasn't thought about him in months. She could never consider Jake a rebound; he had been her true love, once. The fact that Lucas is comparing him to Brooke makes her uneasy.

"Is this about what happened?" she asks quietly, ignoring his insinuation. Lucas looks up at her with questioning eyes.

"I know how hard it is to think that Brooke was hurt. But that was five months ago, Lucas. She's fine. And he's in jail now." Lucas continues to stare at her with a bewildered gaze.

"You don't have to feel guilty." This must be where all this anger was coming from. Lucas believed he had to save everyone he cared about. It's one of the reasons she loved him so much. But…Peyton liked him saving her. She couldn't help it; he was the love of her life, she was his; it was what connected them. He'd always been there for her, every step of the way no matter who he was with. It was his way of proclaiming his love for her over and over again. She only wanted him to save her, no one else—not Brooke. It's not that she didn't want Brooke to be saved; just…by someone else other than Lucas. Once Brooke found her own savior then she can be as happy as Peyton.

Lucas repeats her words in his head, trying to figure out their meaning through his aching migrane. What happened five months ago? Angie? Why would he feel guilty? Because you weren't there.

"Are you talking about Angie?" he asks, confused. Peyton gasps and takes a step back. She didn't tell him?

Lucas notes Peyton's shock. "He's in jail now." His frown deepens into a scowl.

"Who's in jail, Peyton?"

The blond closes her eyes and sighs. There's no point in lying. "John Daniels."

"The guy who shot Quinton? Wha—what does he have to do with this?"

Peyton bites her lips, wondering if her friend would want her to say anything.

"He…hurt Brooke." Lucas doesn't seem to react. He stares at her in a long silence, his face completely void of emotion.

"What?" His voice is calm, cold.

"He hurt—"

"What do you mean by hurt?" His voice is accusing—deadly, sending chills down her spine.

Peyton closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, preparing for an onslaught she knew was coming.

"The night you proposed to me…the night Brooke gave up Angie there was a—break in."

Lucas' mind seems to fill with fog. A fog so dense that nothing seems to be able to get through; nothing makes any sense.

"A break in? What do you mean a break in? Where?"

"At...at the store."

The fog thickens. "What store?" Peyton doesn't answer.

The silence seems to be just what Lucas needs to understand. Most still didn't made sense. The details, Peyton's solemn replies seemed to defy all logic, nothing fit. Nothing, except for something about Brooke being hurt.

"I have to go to her." He dashes towards the door.

"What?! No—Lucas, sit down! It's 2 in the fucking morning!" He stops at the door and looks up at her, his eyes are lost, and scared, and disbelieving.

"Luke..." she says softly, reaching a hand out to comfort him.

"Brooke was hurt?" even to his own ears, he sounds pitiful. Like a child asking for an answer he's afraid of hearing.

Peyton pulls back, not really understanding what she's feeling. She's glad Lucas cared so much for her best friend, she is, but...he hasn't even asked about her yet.

"She was hurt." she confirms, softly, trying to let the news sink in.

Lucas stares at her for a moment before suddenly standing up right and vigorously shaking his head.

"No."

"Lucas..."

"No, see—you're wrong. Brooke doesn't get hurt." No. Peyton has to be mistaken. He would have noticed if Brooke was in pain. That's just who he is. He sees people's pain and he rescues them. Just like he did with Peyton, just like he's done so many times for Haley. And Nathan; and Dan. There was no way he wouldn't have noticed. "I would have known if she was hurt. I—she would have told me...." he trails off and frowns. Flashes of Brooke's bruised body enter his mind, eyes of sadness haunted him as he kept his distance. He thought she was mad at him; thought that she wouldn't forgive him for leaving so soon after Angie. He spent nights knowing that he'd ruined the fragile friendship he'd had with her.

She wouldn't have come to him. She wouldn't have come to him even when she was in pain.

Suddenly, it's hard to breathe.

Lucas places a hand on his chest, where his heart is suddenly so heavy and pained that he could no longer stand up straight. The pinching grows stronger as his chest beats more erratically. Did he take his heart medicine today? He shuts his eyes tightly to fight off the chaos swirling around in his head and sinks to the ground, hand still on his chest.

"Lucas!" His fiancé rushes over to him in a wave of panic, and in the back of his mind he acknowledges her worried pleads and desperate eyes, but his agonizing thoughts drowned everything out except one fact:

Brooke was hurt. He shakes his head, trying to fight through the migraine that only seemed to be getting worse the more breaths he took.

Brooke was hurt. He can't make himself believe it. It doesn't make any sense.

"You cannot see the dress before the wedding!" She practically threw herself in front of the mannequin. He smiled at her fierceness.

Brooke, his Cheery, his pretty girl, his first love, was hurt.

"Lucas, write the movie the way you see the story."

He lets out a shaky breath. His heart is beating at an impossible pace. He just wants it to stop.

Why wasn't he there?

He watched them through the window of the cafe-turned-fashion boutique. That girl Sam was propped up on the counter, Haley and Brooke standing at each side. He knew he should go and formally introduce himself to Sam, but something kept him away. He noticed Brooke wasn't paying attention to the conversation between the other girls. Haley waved her hands in front of her face to catch her attention. Brooke said something that he was sure was witty or sarcastic or cute. They all laughed.

His breathing is heavier, there's not enough oxygen in the room.

How could he not have seen it?

"What happened to our sign?" He didn't specify who he meant by 'our'.
Brooke shrugged. "It didn't fit my new dominatrix inspired fashion line." Lucas eyebrows shot up. Brooke smirked and winked. Later on he'd seen her looking out the window, alone. She looked—sad, his instinct screamed—thoughtful.

Brooke was...

Realization struck like a thousand blades through his skull, effectively clearing the fog and making way for an emotion he's only ever felt once before.

I just wish you could save me.
Okay, if you promise to save me back.
I promise.

She'd saved him. That much was for sure. She'd been there for him through thick and thin throughout these past five years, helping him move on after Peyton, encouraging him to stick to his book and follow his dreams and get published; she'd comforted him about Lindsey; let him confide in her about his confused feelings. In the last five years she'd made him laugh, think, believe, hope.

Had he saved her back?

He'd helped her with Angie. He was the first person she'd trusted enough to confess about her dream to have a child. He still held it as a source of pride that she'd come to him out of all people. Not Haley, not even Peyton. And he'd been there, every step of the way—except the end.

She'd said she was fine. She looked him straight in the eyes and told him she'd be alright. Her back was straight, her eyes were soft, her voice was confident. And he'd believed her. He believed she was okay.

"Oh my gosh, Brooke, what happened?" Haley asked the moment Brooke showed up at the funeral.
She smiled, embarrassed. "Silly me, I fell down the stairs carrying my laundry."

Lucas gasps for air. Even then, he knew something was off. He knew and he never did anything.

God, she must have hated him. He wonders if it was possible for her to have hated him as much as he does himself right now. Why hadn't he pushed?

"Seriously, Luke, don't push her. Let her come to us."

His eyes harden and glare at the blond facing him.

"You knew. You knew and you tried to keep me away."

Peyton frowns. "What?"

"You knew about the attack! And you fed me this bullshit about her falling down the stairs! You tried to stop me from saving her!" he screams, blood rushes to his head, blocking out the disappointed voice chastising him for yelling at his pregnant fiancé.

Peyton looks horrified. "I would never do that!"

"Bullshit! You've always kept me from saving her...You've always wanted me to save you and no one else!"

The blond glares at him with a fierceness in her eyes that he's never seen before. She ignores the fact that he just voiced her inner thoughts exactly.

"It wasn't as though I forced you to be there!"

"YOU KNEW!!"

"No! I didn't, alright?! I was kept in the dark too. She didn't even trust me enough to tell me this!" She's crying now. Lucas calms down; he hadn't meant to make her cry. "I just found out a couple of weeks ago, alright?"

Lucas takes deep breaths to try and calm himself; he doesn't want to hurt Peyton.

"I just…I can't believe you didn't tell me."

"None of us knew, Lucas. Brooke took care of this by herself." It hurt her that she wasn't there for her friend. It hurts her more that Lucas would think she could ever do something like that to Brooke; to him. He's just drunk, she decides. She knows that he would never hurt her or their baby. She knows that he loves them both more than anything. She also knows that alcohol can make him say things he never really meant.

"I hate you. You ruined my life."

She instinctively rests her hand on her belly. He doesn't mean it.

Lucas sees her place her hands protectively over her belly, where their child was growing. He calms significantly, a little of the haze of alcohol slowly ebbing away at the thought that his child was healthy, was going to survive—he was going to have a family.

He remembers Brooke, remembers how hard she fought for getting a child, how much she loved, laughed, cried, and struggled for Angie; how much she wanted what he was now going to have.

"You didn't even flinch when you saw me at the funeral!"

His anger was back on full force and he struggles not to explode again.

"You still should have told me,."

The blonde looks away, ashamed. "I didn't think you two were that close anymore."

Lucas blinks back in shock. Had they fallen apart so completely, that even Peyton thought they weren't friends? His heart takes on a different kind of pain.

"I have to get out of here." He mumbles distractedly, looking around for a quick escape.

"Where are you going?" She watches him storm out. "Lucas! Lucas!"

He doesn't answer, doesn't turn back, he just slams the door in her face.

B&L


He'd seen her in the news.

Lucas Scott wasn't normally one to read the likes of the National Informer, but when a familiar face on the cover of the magazine caught his eye, he had to pick it up.

FASHION FEMME FATALE THWARTS KILLER!

He ran towards her house all the while trying to figure out what Brooke was doing around the man who killed Quinton in the first place. He needed to know if she was okay; needed to make sure she wasn't hurt.

He ran straight to her door, not even planning to knock, when his eyes caught Julian laughing with her through the window. He frowned, his hands lingering on the door knob for a moment longer, before he turned and walked away.

Lucas stands outside her door staring at the arabesque frame. He doesn't know how long he's been standing there, but as soon as he'd stepped in front of it he couldn't make himself move. He wants to see her, wants to be there for her, but he's somehow afraid of that very same thing. So, he just stands there, not ready to make a decision yet, and stares ahead.

The first thing he notices is the white paint of the doorway. It isn't right, he thinks. It's too plain; too bland; too...not Brooke. It should be red, was the last thought that ran through his head before the door lights turn on, and Brooke's worried face emerges in front of him.

"Lucas what on earth are you DOING out there?!" she grabs him and quickly ushers him in, casting a weary glance at the windy night. A storm was coming.

She closes and locks her door, shutting out the cold winds and significantly quieting the house before she turns and glares at him.

"Peyton called." She says tersely, letting Lucas know that he was in for one of her infamous onslaughts. But he didn't care about that now, he needed to do what he came to do.

His eyes roam her body urgently looking for any signs of her pain. He looks at her bare arms—flawless. Even her face seems to have healed from her fall down the stairs; and her neck line had lost those mysterious little bruises that no one fully understood.

"Take off your shirt." He orders in what would be a forceful tone if it hadn't been for the fear in his voice.

Brooke quirks an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

Lucas walks towards her with the obvious intent of taking it off for her.

"Take it off." He says, pulling at the hem of her shirt and trying to pull it off of her despite her protests.

"What? Lucas! No—stop." She struggles against his forceful arms, but it is as if he's on auto pilot. His eyes are wide and dull, his jaw is slack, and he seems to notice only her shirt.

"Lucas—please." She begs, the feeling of hands all over her taking her back to that night.

Lucas finally looks up and catches her eye. The fear he sees in their hazel-green depths give him immediate pause. His fear, curiosity, need for proof are all replaced by the guilt he has for scaring her.

"Brooke…" he whispers, his voice cracking from the pain. "I won't hurt you."

Brooke hesitates for a moment, looking into his eyes before releasing the desperate grip she had on her bodice. He knows, she realizes. She is still stunned over what he's about to do, but the pain in his soft voice convince her to let him do it.

Lucas looks into her eyes a moment longer, trying to communicate his intent before slowly sliding her shirt over her head.

What he sees makes him wish she'd resisted him harder.

Her entire torso, her beautiful body was covered in giant bruises. Some fading, two remaining. Her beautiful tanned skin that he had once marked with touches and kisses of love and lust was now tainted by blue and yellow and green. He hesitantly reaches and strokes her breast, where he could see the edges of bruises showing at the cusp of her bra line. His touch sends waves of electricity throughout Brooke's body, but Lucas doesn't notice. This isn't a sexual act for him; this is an act of pain and bewilderment.

"Did he…" he looks up at her and trails off, his eyes pleading for one sign of good news.

Brooke shakes her head. "N-no."

Lucas lets out a sigh of relief. It wasn't much, but he didn't know what he would do with himself if she'd been violated in that way.

Tears suddenly burst into his eyes. She was hurt. His Pretty Girl, his Cheery was in pain for months and he never even noticed. Some low life had violated her, and he hadn't been there. He wasn't there to save her like he's promised. He wasn't there to kill that bastard with his bare hands. Brooke had to take him down. By herself. She must have been so terrified, so lonely, in such pain.

She could have died.
"You were never there for me!"

He suddenly feels nauseous. His fingers drop from her breast, as though the touch of them burned him before launching himself to the kitchen sink—knowing he wouldn't reach the bathroom.

"Lucas!" In a second, Brooke is by his side, running her soft hands up and down his back gently as she turns on the faucet to wash away the stench and residue. She'd hastily put her shirt back on, hurt and ashamed that her body that used to hold so much power over him now made him hurl. She squashes down the pain and tends to him. She can deal with that once he's gone.

"Shhh…Lucas, its okay. I'm sorry." She whispers soothingly. She wonders how much alcohol he's had that day, she's never seen him vomit with this much intensity before.

After several moments, Lucas collapses on her kitchen floor, his back leaning against the counter. He breathes heavily, filling his lungs with oxygen in an effort to calm his rapidly beating heart. Brooke opens the window and leaves the faucet on. She pours a glass of orange juice, and brings it to his lips. He refuses, eyes hollow and depressed, looking out into nothingness.
Brooke forces his mouth open and practically shoves the straw in his mouth.

"Drink." She says forcefully, and Lucas follows immediately. Suddenly, he realizes the position they're in, and he lets out a single bark of laughter. She was taking care of him.

He finally looks up at her, noticing she'd covered herself up. She looks like a porcelain doll again; her hair so perfect and thick stopping at her rounded shoulders; her flawless make up on her beautiful face. But being this close, knowing what he knew, he sees it isn't all perfect. Maybe it was just his imagination, but he swears he could see dark bags under her eyes that he'd never noticed before. Her arms were more toned, filled with muscles that he'd never seen. She practiced self-defence, he realizes, finally understanding why her punches had hurt him so much. Her hair, although still beautiful and thick, had lost that special lustre that seemed only she could accomplish. He looks back at her eyes and for the first time notices the loss of the sparkle he'd fallen in love with so long ago. It's this that proves to him how broken she was, and his heart almost stops with the realization that it might be too late to fix her.

He suddenly grabs her and holds her to her chest, tightly. She protests initially, but soon moulds into his arms as the familiar feeling washes over her.

"Tell me what happened." He feels her tense in his arms, and he knows she doesn't want to relive the past. But he has to make her talk; has to stop her from bottling up her emotions like she's always done.

"Brooke. Don't worry. I'll keep you safe."

She takes a deep, shattered breath. She doesn't want to relive it but the memory of that night keeps coming back, has been haugnting her for months, and she doesn't know how to make it stop.

"I was....working late. Angie had just left—you know." He nods over her head. Brooke liked to distract herself with work when she was upset. "An—and, he just came in. Out of nowhere, he just appeared. Then he—" She lets out a sob. Lucas runs his hands up and down her back in soothing motions. "Lucas, I was so scared."

His arms tighten around her. "I know." He whispers, willing himself not to cry. "You don't have to be scared. I'm here."

She sniffles, relaxing in the warmth of his embrace. She can still picture that night as though it happened moments ago; but something's different. Somehow, the pain, the fearcit's not as intense as it used to be.

"After he left, I...just lay there. I couldn't move." He strokes her back gently, she shivers. "I don't know how long it was before I moved."

"Were you knocked unconscious?" His voice is flat, void of emotion; hiding the fury and pain.

"No." She's cries harder. "I remember all of it." She lets out a gut wrenching sob. Lucas rests his cheek against hers, whispering reassurances in her ear that she barely hears but somehow washed away all her unease.

"Then what happened?"

She shrugs against him. "I...picked myself up and walked home." she sniffles again, feeling him stiffen against her. "I didn't want anyone to see me."

"Why not?" he asks before he can stop himself. Why did she always refuse help?

She's silent for a moment, and he wonders if he's pushed her too far. But then, she speaks.

"I..." Pools of blood, blood on skin, blood in hair, blue, black, tears, cuts, pain. "I was disgusting, Lucas."

"What?"

"I was." she sobs. "I was...sweaty, and weak and pathetic—"

"Brooke—" He cups her cheek, but she wont look at him.

"And I'd just let this stranger come into my store and destroy my life's work. And I couldn't even defend myself."

"Hey, hey, hey...Pretty Girl." Her old nickname drives her to meet his eyes. "You are the most beautiful woman I know. And don't ever think yourself pathetic. You're so strong, Brooke."

She sobs. "I didn't feel very strong."

"But you are. You...you dealt with this all by yourself. You kept this darkness hidden and you survived and somehow came out stronger than before. You're so brave, Brooke." She sniffles and leans her head on his shoulders. She was beautiful, and brilliant and brave.


They stay silent for a moment, both lost in their own thoughts and completely content with just laying in each other's arms.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he whispers after a time.

Brooke shrugs. "You were in Vegas."

Lucas tightens his hold on her, conscious of not holding her too tightly so as not to hurt her.

"Why didn't you tell me after?" She doesn't answer, Lucas makes her look at him.

"Why, Brooke?" she won't meet his eyes. What was she supposed to say? That she was too angry for him not being there when she finally needed him the most? That she shouldn't have to ask for his help? That she was hurt he'd left her and taken her best friend with him so close to when Angie left?

She shrugs, and turns her face back into his chest, breathing in his scent.

"I didn't want to burden you." It was true, she didn't want to ruin his and Peyton's happiness. They both deserved so much happiness.

For a moment, he's silent. His breathing is controlled, and his arms are strong and warm and safe around her. Brooke takes in deep breaths, trying to inhale his essence that makes her feel so content and loved. With each exhale she feels the tension in her body release. She hasn't felt this free in months.

Suddenly, he speaks.

"You could never be a burden, Pretty Girl."

His voice is soft, and sure and so genuine that it makes her cry harder. She feels his chest heave in ragged motions, and she realizes that he's crying as well.

"I'm sorry." He whispers, broken. "I'm so, so, so sorry."

- tbc-

I will have the next chapter sometime next week. There are still a few tweaks here and there but I think it's mostly ready for the public. Hope you enjoyed it. Comments/suggestions are always appreciated. Please review!