They're here. Not being alone today is a huge relief.

I rush to Lucas and hug him tight. I haven't seen him in two months, and I can't believe that this is how we're getting together.

"Thanks for coming."

We pull apart and he rubs my arms, like he usually does when he wants to reassure or comfort me. "Of course I would come. How are you?"

Devastated.

"I'm okay. You don't look so good, though."

Unshaven face, dishevelled hair, bloodshot eyes. Lucas is dependable in a crunch, but he doesn't deal very well with it himself.

He wipes a hand across his face. "No, I'm fine. I just…I couldn't sleep."

I know. I couldn't sleep after that dream, crawling into Jamie's bed and staring out the window until daybreak.

I reach to hug Peyton. "Hey, blondie."

"Hey, foxy," she says sombrely. "Where's Jamie?"

"Deb offered to stay with him. She might bring him by in the afternoon."

"Have you told him?" Luke asks.

I shake my head. I have tried to think of what to say to Jamie when he asks me about his father. This is not the same as saying that Nathan is staying overnight at the hospital for a check-up.

"No. I don't know what to tell him. What do I tell him? He's only three, Luke."

He pulls me in for another hug. I'm glad he's here. I'm glad they're here. I really needed my friends.

"It's okay, Hales."

I shake my head again, pressing my lips together to prevent the tears. "It's really not. I didn't talk to him this morning. He was still asleep when I left but…What am I supposed to say when he asks why Nathan hasn't come home yet?"

Three years old. What do you tell a three-year-old about comas? What words do I use? How do I say it? What will this do to him?

He leads me to the chairs. "Just tell him the truth, Hales. Of course it's not going to be easy, but you have to tell him. How…how is Nate?"

I squeeze his hand, looking into his troubled eyes, the blue Scott eyes that hail from Royal, Nathan and Luke's grandfather.

"It's awful, Luke. What the doctor said…"

I repeat what Dr. Overbeck told me last night. My fingers feel numb from the grip Luke has been tightening on them every time I explain something.

After a lengthy silence, I ask him about Newark and Rosecreek. I want to not think about a battered Nathan for a little bit.

We all get distracted once in a while through the banal conversation, but we don't talk about how horrible it is being where we are.

"Good morning, Mrs. Scott."

We look up at the sound of his voice.

"Dr. Overbeck. Morning. This is my family, Peyton and Lucas. He's Nathan's brother."

He turns to me after they shake hands. "Your husband's condition is still critical but he made it through the night."

He made it through the night. The wondering had been haunting me.

"Can we see him?" Luke asks.

"His sensitivity can only allow me to let in one of you at a time. And you can only stay for a few minutes."

There's a swift movement of elation across our faces with the doctor's words.

"I'm assuming you'll be the first, Mrs. Scott?"

"We'll wait here," Peyton tells me with a hug.

The doctor smiles tightly, ushering me out into the hallway. I follow him down the corridor, where he stops at a door marked with Nathan's name. Scott, N.

"You'll have to wear these."

From a cart outside the room, he retrieves a gown, a pair of gloves and a mask. "We can't take any chances."

"Thank you."

"Five minutes, Mrs. Scott."

I stare at the stark white door, holding the garments close to my chest, trembling slightly. I'm absolutely terrified of what's beyond.

My phone then rings, startling me enough to make me stumble back. I really I'm edgy. It's not a number that's stored on my phone.

"Hello?"

"Haley!"

"Brooke. Are you okay?"

"Yeah. There was a show and I've been running around like one of those headless chickens. I got your message and I called as soon as I could. How's Nate?"

I turn my attention back to the door, imagining what is going on behind it. "Not good. He's in a coma."

She curses loudly.

"Are you in New York?"

"D.C., actually. I'll be here for a while."

She's been living quite the peripatetic life these days.

"Can you make it to Dale?"

She sighs. "I don't know. There's a lot going on around here and I'm in charge of some shows so I can't leave yet. I'll let you know when I can. Is Peyton with you?"

"Yeah. Luke is, too."

"Luke?"

The Peyton-Lucas-Brooke triangle is something Nathan and I usually stay clear of. It means choosing sides, like back in high school when the girls had a falling out for a time over Luke. It was dreadful, trying to keep balance and fairness without showing favouritism to one over the other.

"He drove here last night."

"That's good. At least you're not alone. I have to go now but I'll call you. Give my love to Nathan and Jamie and everyone, okay?"

"I will. Thanks for calling, Brooke."

I wear the cover gown, gloves and mask quickly, anxious to see Nathan. Taking a deep breath, I place my hand on the door again. I'm worried about him, and scared stiff of seeing what happened to him. Is this what Nathan felt when he was about to open my hospital door?

Gulping hard, I step into the dimly lit room. It's eerily calm, save for the intermittent beeping and pumping. Beep. Whoosh. Beep. Whoosh. Beep. Whoosh.

My eyes travel to the foot of the bed, Nathan's feet and long legs tucked underneath a blue hospital blanket. It looks thin and I immediately want to rush home and grab a blanket. It's a hospital but I wouldn't want him to catch pneumonia on top of all this.

His unmoving hands are on either side of him, and his wedding ring gleams faintly in the soft light. There are tubes and needles sticking out of his bruised arms, and drawing in a shaky breath, I look at his face. I nearly faint again.

His head is swathed in a thick, white bandage. There are raw cuts and bruises on his cheeks, around his eyes, his forehead and his chin. His face is grey and so swollen that his features are unrecognizable. His neck is in a brace and there's a clear tube between his lips, held in place by tape at the edge of his mouth.

That's my husband. My Nathan. Always strong and virile, but right now banged up, unconscious and unresponsive.

Beep. Whoosh. Beep. Whoosh.

I approach him slowly, shocked and afraid. Tears are making my vision a little blurry.

Needing contact with him, I reach for his hand. It feels cool through the gloves. And I start to cry.

I sit on the edge of the bed holding his motionless hand to my chest, crying, running my gloved hand gently over his face.

"Nathan…"

He doesn't move.

"Baby, I'm here."

I kiss his hand as I weep, telling him over and over again that I'm here. He's still not moving.

There's a sudden knock on the door.

"Hales?"

Has it been five minutes already?

I wipe furiously at my eyes with the sleeve of my gown, feeling dampness on the mask where my tears fell. "H-hey…"

Lucas walks into the room in the same protective gear, standing on the other side of the bed, looking on at Nathan. "Holy…"

His voice is hollow and muffled behind the mask.

"What did they tell you happened?"

I take in a deep breath and look at Nathan as I rub his hand. "They had a game at Redlands College. Maryland. He had a good game. Skills wasn't too happy about losing to him."

Lucas huffs a little chuckle.

"He called me after and told me that they were on their way back. Jamie and I were baking cookies and then the police came. They said that there was a trailer and that man just rammed into their bus…"

I'm sobbing as I tell him the rest of what I know. "N-Nathan was closest to the driver so he got hurt the most. The news said that the truck driver had been drinking…"

"That asshole."

I'm just as angry as he is. I'm too angry to feel sorry for someone whose recklessness may cost my husband his life.

"I-I can't live without him, Luke. I just c-can't…"

I don't know how. I don't want to find out.

"Hales…"

He comes over to my side of the bed, putting his arms around me. I want to scream so badly but all I can do is just cry until I can't anymore.

Luke has to go back to school. He has a big test and a class presentation later in the evening, and neither can be rescheduled. He lives four hours away and it's a long drive. I walk him to his car.

"I'm so sorry that I can't stay longer."

He's in turmoil. I place a hand on his arm in comfort. "It's alright. I'm going to be fine. There's nothing you can do and I don't want you feeling guilty, okay?"

He hugs me. "It's not okay, but I'll call you."

I nod against his shoulder as we stand in front of his car. I wish that he were able to stick around a little longer.

"Drive safely."

He nods. "Tell him to wake up. Tell him that I'm going to kick his ass if he doesn't."

I chuckle lowly and humourlessly, my throat aching like it doesn't recognize the sound.

"And give Jamie a hug and a kiss for me."

"I will."

I give him one last hug, watching as he pulls out of the parking lot and drives away.

I'm alone in the waiting room, drinking the hospital's tart coffee from a paper cup. Peyton left shortly after Lucas. She has a children's art program she runs at Tree Hill's Community Centre, but she'll be back later. Being in a hospital brings back bad memories for Peyton, with her mom spending her last days in one before she passed away. I don't think an event like that can leave you untouched. Fear can grow from anything, and something so traumatic is bound to leave a mark.

"Haley."

She looks afraid.

"Deb. Hi."

And she's alone.

"Where's Jamie?"

"I took him to the day-care centre."

I'm relieved. He deserves to know about his father but I'm too frayed to even think of what to say. "Thank you."

She nods at me understandingly, claiming the seat next to me. We sit quietly for a minute.

"Do you want to see him?" I ask her.

She hesitates, her fingers fiddling with the straps of her purse. "Will they let me?"

I reach for her hand. "You're his mom. I'll force them to."

After a moment where it seems she's arguing with herself on whether to do this or not, she nods. I lead her to Nathan's room and take out the proper attire from the cart outside his room. No one has stopped us. This is how babies get stolen from hospitals and helpless patients are smothered with pillows. Nathan's paranoia has really rubbed off on me.

"I'll be in the waiting room."

I squeeze her arm and make my way back to the drab walls of the waiting room. Not more than two minutes later, Deb runs into the room, pale and crying silently.

I have never seen her so wrecked. Even during her addiction to pills and alcohol, she hadn't looked so…frail. I sit with her for a while as she calms down, and then she tells me that she's leaving.

"But you just got here."

I need her. Luke's gone and Peyton's gone.

"I can't see him like that, Haley. He's my son, but I…I just can't."

Jamie was once admitted overnight with a fever and I was a wreck. I don't blame her for wanting some time away.

"Okay. I'll see you at home. I can pick up Jamie if you want to lie down for some time."

She shakes her head, her eyes filled up with tears. "I'm not going there."

"Where then, a hotel? You don't need to do that."

"Tree Hill."

"Deb…"

I want to beg her not to leave.

"He has you, Haley. I promise to be back by the end of the week."

I hug her again and she scrambles out the door. It's terribly lonely being in this unpleasant room. It reeks of antiseptic and bleach, smells that are linked to illness and death. I hate to associate the latter with Nathan.

I sneak into his room after an hour of getting hit by all those odours and witnessing people crying in the waiting room of the ICU. I stay by his side until past lunch when a nurse tells me that midday visiting hours are over.

Before I leave, I meet up with Dr. Overbeck. Nothing good is unfurled in his words: no change.

It's painful to hear and I just want to get out of there. I want to go home. I want to see my son. I need to see him.

We had Jamie when we were seventeen. Though terrified at the prospect of being parents at a young age who were barely out of high school, we did it. We managed with the little we had, we still are, and we're doing fine.

The day has felt years long. After picking up Jamie from day-care, I take him for a movie. It shames me that I'm using such methods to avoid telling him about Nathan. Every child needs his father and I can't imagine raising him alone without Nathan. It's a really horrifying thought.

At home, he asks me about Nathan. He's not stupid, because he knew that Nathan was meant to be home last night. We even made cookies for his return.

I can't muster the courage to give him the truth. Out of cowardice, I tell him that Nathan is on his way. He asks to call Nathan. I lie again by adding that he's unreachable. The worst of it is that he looks at me with complete trust, not disbelieving my explanations. I feel like the worst mother in the world. I pop in a DVD for him and then slip into our bedroom for a cry.

Lying awake in bed late into the night, staring at the fan as it oscillates on the ceiling, I still feel horrible. I'm thinking about Nathan, how to tell Jamie about Nathan, and how upset Jamie will be when I do tell him.

He's three years old. He shouldn't be facing anything like this at his age. The world should be seen through rose-tinted glasses, and the idea of taking him to the hospital to see Nathan scares the hell out of me. It hurts me to the core that this will change something in his world, and I hate that I have no control over it.

"Daddy! Daddy, come!"

I slide out of bed quickly and into his bedroom across the hallway. He's sitting up in bed, and I can see a trail of tears on his cheeks.

"Mommy!"

He lifts up his arms, holding onto my neck tightly when I pick him up. This is not about needing the bathroom. "Baby, what is it? Did you have a bad dream?"

He's crying, his grip on my neck tightening as he does so.

"You want to tell me about it?"

I rub my hands down his small back, calming him down. Once in a while he's hit by night terrors, and he never talks to me about them. But with Nathan, he'll tell him about monster-sized monkeys in his dreams and the boogeyman under his bed.

"I'm here…shhh…it's okay…"

After he's cried out, he becomes quiet, his arms tight and still around my neck. "Where's Daddy?"

I close my eyes and take in a shaky breath. What kind of mother am I to keep something like this from my son?

"Jamie…"

"I want Daddy."

My own tears are threatening to spill over at the fear in his voice. I don't know if I can do this, but I can't lead him on anymore. I carry him to our bedroom and lay him out on the bed with me.

"Mama, where's Daddy? Is he coming home? He said he was coming. He always comes."

He has his father's blue eyes. The innocence in them will be broken.

"Sweetie, Daddy's in the hospital," I say as I brush my thumbs across his cheeks, wiping his tears away.

"Needle shot?"

I run my fingers through his hair, trembling slightly. What will seeing Nathan like that do to him?

"He was in an accident and he got hurt so he has to stay in the hospital to get better."

"Why?"

"Because the hospital will take the best care of him."

He looks over my shoulder, and I wonder if he's thinking like I am, that this is the worst thing that has ever happened to him.

"Can we go now? I want to see him."

He loves his father so much, yet I don't want him to see him like that. Will this be bad for him? Will he end up terrified of Nathan?

"We can't see him now."

Jamie blinks watery blue eyes at me. "But I wanna go now. I wanna see Daddy get better."

He doesn't understand why I'm denying him this when I've just dropped a bombshell on him. We could go tomorrow but I can't go back there. I can't get the image of Nathan like he is out of my mind.

Kissing his temple, I say softly, "We can't right now but I promise we'll go."

"Pinky promise?"

"Pinky promise. Now, go to sleep."

He pulls away from me like to break free from my hold. "I don't want to sleep. I wanna watch TV. Can I have hot chocolate?"

I sigh as I watch him scoot off the bed. This is going to be one of those nights where he'll be up until a too-early hour. I don't mind, though, because I'm not sleepy either.