Disclaimer: If I was the engineer on this train things would've turned out quite differently.

Spoilers/Warnings: My very own version of S5 that includes some very vague references to the S5 spoilers swirling about. Also there's a major character death because this is how I would've liked it all to turn out.

Summary: It's been four years since graduation and they're all coming home for the wedding of one of their own. In a single weekend friendships are renewed and one couple slowly begin to mend their broken relationship.

Notes: Seriously do not kill me for what unearths in this chapter. Please. It's imperative to the story, I swear. And I really hate that I keep lacking in my updates. Trying to write and maintain a Lucas/Peyton website is not a walk in the park. But I love each and every one of you for your reviews and your support; the when are you going to update PM's make me smile.

06. Under the Strain of a Losing Game

Lucas had nothing under control. Nothing. Especially his hormones.

Peyton had been a regular fixture in his life for nearly a month now and his defenses were quickly crumbling, the debris landing at his feet, hitting his toes much harder than if they were blows to his head.

The woman drove him crazy. She was forthright and uncompromising and sarcastic. In the four years that she'd been in Los Angeles, she'd grown, prospered. She was much so different from the Peyton he remembered. He liked this new agile, sexy Peyton even if she was making him feel sixteen all over again.

It was Saturday and Lily had invited Peyton to join them that afternoon at the pool. They'd met up with her earlier that morning at the store. He was buying groceries and Peyton was buying tampons. When Lily had inquired to the box that Peyton was holding he had quickly changed the subject to something as mediocre as the weather, making the mistake of mentioning their ritual Saturday afternoons poolside. Then Lily had taken it a step further and asked Peyton to join them and, like him, Peyton couldn't refrain from acquiescing.

So here he sat with his legs in the pool, watching Peyton in her barely there bikini doing everything to keep his libido in check. It wasn't lost on him that several of the other complex's occupants had taken notice of her. That old green monster slipped into his blood stream and grasped his heart in a vise. This was not helping to keep a handle on the situation at all. In fact this was blowing a lid off the situation and straightaway with his resolve.

"You okay, Luke?" Peyton swam up beside him, careful to keep a watchful eye on Lily who was splashing around in the shallow end with Mattie, the boy that lived in the apartment beneath Luke's. However, Luke seemed not to hear her. Or maybe he was ignoring her. "Luke?" she said again, touching his knee.

His eyes flicked to hers, confused. Then he smiled ruefully, registering her presence. "Oh, Peyton! I'm sorry, what? You were talking to me?"

She grinned up at him, then cast a glance over her shoulder toward Lily where Luke's gaze had drifted to. "You were looking a little green. Everything okay?"

He snorted, a most bizarre sound. "Oh, yeah. Great."

Her eyebrows shot up, but she just shrugged. "The water's warm. You should come in."

"I will. In a second." First he needed to find his control, curb his overwhelming desire to pounce her. He was already aroused, an unfortunate condition given their no touching policy— he needed to have his head reexamined for suggesting they keep things between them friends only, strictly platonic. He had already been on the edge of implosion before she'd touched his knee and now he was so hard, he ached. Being just friends with Peyton was going to kill him.

He caught sight of her as she climbed out of the pool, rearranging the bottom portion of her bikini where the water had suctioned it to her backside. He took a moment to savor her, all wet and sexy—and off limits!—before he threw himself into the pool, welcoming the cool water surrounding him. When he surfaced and caught her eye he figured that there were worse ways to go and being friends with Peyton Sawyer while fighting the overwhelming urges of his body was most definitely not one of them.

Peyton thought of nothing aside from her impending bathing ritual as she made her way home from work. She thought about sinking into the water bath water, scented with her lavender bath salts, lighting a few candles to wind down from her most pressing day at the radio station.

Of late, she'd been spending way too much time at Luke's, going to his house right after she got off work and not returning until close to midnight. They would eat dinner together and she'd help him ready Lily for bed and after the tot was down for the night they kick back on his sofa with a movie, or they'd talk. They'd talk about everything, the present, the future, but not the past—never the past. She wondered if they did that on purpose or maybe it just that they were both aware that the past held ghosts, secrets and betrayals. It was probably for the best that they didn't discuss it. Not at this juncture at any rate.

Pulling up in front of her apartment complex, Peyton made her way toward her apartment unprepared for the uninvited guest waiting on her stoop. They became aware of one another at the same instant, his dark eyes raking over her person in a most alarming way.

"Hey Sawyer," he finally greeted her, his eyes softening at once.

"Nathan, what are you doing here?" she demanded.

He was in faded jeans, a plain white shirt and a backwards hat, much different attire than what he'd worn the weekend of the wedding. He shrugged, the corners of his lips tilting up with a mischievous grin. "Would you believe me if I said I was in the neighborhood?"

"Not hardly," she breathed, moving past him. Peyton unlocked her door, ushered him inside. She flipped on lights, watching as Nathan took in her meager surroundings. It wasn't much to look at, but it was home. Her home. And that meant more to her than luxury or space.

He didn't have to say it. She knew why he was here. He was here on Luke's behalf. He didn't want her to hurt his brother or Lily and she commended him for his concern. She wondered how long it would take Haley and the rest of the guys to do the same. They'd each probably taking their turns paying her a visit, leaving days between to perfect their scowls, adjust their temperaments. She swallowed a groan just contemplating such a thing transpiring.

"How long have you been here? Back in Tree Hill?" Nathan asked, peering into a box that she had just started to sort through. It was some old mementos from high school. She was undecided as to what to do with them. Nathan pulled out a cheerleading trophy, blew off the dust, stared at it for merely a moment before replacing it in the box then returning to his perusal of her apartment.

"I'm sure that Lucas has told you—"

Nathan cut her off, widening his stance, crossing his arms. "I want you to tell me."

Nodding, Peyton dropped onto her sofa, sure that she was settling in for a very long conversation. If not that, a very long lecture. Oh, joy. "Almost two months."

Nathan digested that, taking seat on the arm of her sofa. She wanted to tell him not to do that, to take seat like a normal person, but she held her tongue. "Yeah, that's what Luke said. You know Haley and I used to talk to him daily. Daily, Peyton. And now that you've been back…well, we hardly to talk to him at all. Haley had to leave three messages the other day for him to call her. She's never had to do that before."

"I don't mean to monopolize his time, Nathan. I don't mean to keep him from you and Haley or anyone really," she started. But before she continue, Nathan smiled and the gesture threw her so off-balance that she forgot the rest of what she had intended to say.

Shaking his head, he said, "No, we don't mind. That's the point. We're glad—relieved, even—that Lucas has someone to occupy his time aside from Lily. And we're glad that it's you. We always knew that it would take you coming back to get him to drop that stupid rule of his." He paused. "He did tell you about that, didn't he?"

"He did."

"Well, anyway, it's always been you for him. I think we've all known that." He gave her a pointed look, making her blush and laugh. "Some of us are just slower at realizing it than others."

"You drove all the way from Charlotte to tell me that?"

Nathan shook his head. "Of course not. Luke's been so busy that he's missed some developments."

Peyton's eyes widened. "Oh, my God," she exclaimed, giddily. "Haley's pregnant."

A shocked looked came across Nathan's face, causing him to bolt to his feet. "No! At least… I don't think so." Nathan glowered down at her. "Why? Do you know something? Because she promised if she got pregnant again that I would be the first to know." He was already reaching into his pocket for his phone. "She promised!"

Peyton reached out to him, snatching away his phone. She ignored his protests, insisting, "She's not pregnant, Nathan. I'm sorry, I'm sorry I just… I just assumed."

"Oh." Then a moment later, he said, "Don't do that!" Rubbing his chest, he sat down again, breathing deeply. "Damn, you'll give me an early heart attack, for sure."

Peyton handed him back his phone, patting his shoulder. "Take a breath. I'll get you a glass of water." As she made her way into the kitchen, she called over her shoulder, "So what were those developments you were talking about?"

"We're moving back," he said plaintively, turning towards Peyton as she made her way through the kitchen. "We'd been talking about it at length for months. She's grown closer to Bevin and she doesn't really have any female friends in Charlotte. And obviously she misses Luke—we all do. As the wedding neared she became more adamant about coming home, though. Especially once Bevin told her that she and Skills want kids right away. Then you came back and Brooke's coming back…and it just made sense for us to come back, too. With everyone else."

"Wow. That's…something."

"Yeah," Nathan agreed rather dismally. "But enough about me. You and Lucas—how's that going?"

"Real subtle, Nathan," she told him, returning with a glass of water.

Nathan shrugged, accepting the glass without a hint of candor. "It's always been you, Peyton. He's a dense one, but deep down he's always known that."

"Yeah, maybe," she agreed stoically, averse to discussing her relationship with Lucas with his brother. It seemed a betrayal somehow, though she and Nathan had discussed Lucas on occasion in the past.

"No maybes about it. Me, Haley. You, Lucas. It is what it is. That's how it's supposed to be. The universe'll right itself sooner or later."

Peyton shook her head. She didn't understand the Scott brothers for one second. "After everything that I've done, all the times I've pushed and pulled Lucas this way and that way how can you sit here and still cheer us on—me on."

"Because I love you, Peyton. You and Lucas… I don't know the two of you just make sense, a whole lot more sense than the two of us ever made, that's for sure." He gave her a questioning look. "You gonna stick it out this time, right?"

"I'm not going anywhere unless Lucas is with me, Nathan. I'm not leaving him ever again."

That seemed to satisfy Nathan, for he leaned back against the sofa and propped up his feet on her coffee table. Peyton watched the easiness with which he moved and propped his limbs upon her furniture, as if he'd done it a hundred times before. "You got anything to eat?" he asked. "I'm starved."

Nathan staying for dinner reminded her of another time, so very long ago. It almost seemed like someone else's life, now as she thought about it. Despite that they were both two very different people when they were together, Nathan was a staple in her life. She had missed him as well; she just hadn't realized how much until now. "Pizza?" she suggested.

"Pizza sounds good."

"I'll order it," she told as she stood up to retrieve the phone from the kitchen. "Try not to make yourself too at home."

"Wow. This place hasn't changed much," Peyton said, lingering in the doorway to the office that had once belonged to Whitey. Lucas sat at the desk now, focused on the book strewn across his desktop. Lifting his head he regarded her with a smile. The more time that they spent together the more welcoming his smiles got, warming her heart in a way she never thought possible. "Though, the man behind the desk has."

"Why do I get the feeling you were going to say something else?" Lucas closed the playbook that he was mulling over, waving her in. She pushed away from the doorway, moving to take seat in one of the chairs in front of his desk.

Her smile was faint. "I was going to, but it would've been inappropriate."

He ignored that. If he spared his thoughts any more Peyton time a mental health professional would be deeming him obsessed. Maybe he was in need of some straitjacket love. At least it would curb his impulse to touch her. Like now when he wanted to jump across his desk and run his fingers through her hair and—

My God. He was sixteen all over again. Being a coach at his old stomping ground was playing tricks on his head. And having Peyton sitting in front of him was not helping. It was as if he was reliving high school. And he'd rather not do that—anything but that. But damn, she was something to look at. The mere sight of her set his body aflame.

He'd gone four years without sex and then one night with her had unlocked all of his pent up sexual needs. God help him he wanted her. Again and again and again. But somehow he figured that would ruin the easy rapport that they'd established and the friendship that they were trying to repair. He'd told her that he wanted to take things slow and if his libido would just get the message everything would be A-okay.

Lucas cleared his throat, forcing himself to concentrate on her face and not venture south of her neck. With any luck that would appease his overactive groin for a while—well, he could hope, couldn't he? "So, what brings you by these parts?" He linked his hands behind his head, reclining in his chair.

"Well...," she drawled, "I was hoping I could take you out to lunch."

Surprise swam through him. That was the last thing he'd expected. Though, to be honest, he hadn't known what to expect when he'd looked up to spy her in his doorway. He was glad for the distraction. Talking to her trumped going over plays any day, anytime, anywhere. "Wow. You know, it's not everyday I get asked out on a date." He was kind of… flattered.

"Oh no this isn't a date," she was quick to inform him.

He frowned, disappointed, the flattery from moments ago snatched away before he was able to fully revel. What, was he not date material? Regardless it was a pity. He was actually looking forward to being the girl on this date. Amused by the thought, he grinned. "It's not?"

Peyton shook her head, dark curls bouncing as she moved back toward the door. "Of course not. A date involves the boy asking the girl out. Not the other way around."

He closed the playbook, replacing it in his desk drawer. "Is that so?" he asked, fully aware of the sexual magnetism crackling between them. He stood up, moving across the room to where she stood by the door.

Peyton noted the way that Lucas was looking at her. She'd caught that look in his eye several times lately. It thrilled and excited and scared her all at the same time. Heady stuff. "It is," she conceded with a nod of her head. Reaching up, Peyton straightened the collar on his shirt as she said, "Besides, I prefer to be the courted, not the courter."

"Duly noted, Peyton." Lucas smirked, following her out of his office. "Duly noted, indeed," he murmured to himself.

"I'm actually surprised you said yes," Peyton told Lucas after the waiter had left with their orders, spreading her napkin out on her lap. Lucas had taken her to one of the eateries that had been built during her absence. It was along the Riverfront so they could see the ships moving on the water from their little window booth. He knew she would like it—and she did. She just hoped the food was as good as the company.

Lucas looked across the table at her, his eyes questioning. "Why wouldn't I?"

Peyton shrugged, not wanting to answer. His lingering gaze forced her to, however. "Well… it's just… lately, I mean… it just seems that you'd rather not be alone with me. I mean I could just be reading something into nothing but that's the way it feels."

Lucas leaned back, thrumming his fingers on the table. "So you caught that, huh?"

A perplexing look washed across Peyton's face as she opened her menu. "So I wasn't imagining things?" She thought it had just been paranoia, but now Lucas had admitted that he'd been avoiding alone time with her. But why? She wanted to know—had to know. Was she doing something wrong? Surely they could rectify this. Though, the only question that left her mouth was, "Why?"

"Why what? Why do I have a sudden aversion to being alone with you?" Peyton nodded her head. "The reason's simple really." She continued to look puzzled. "Oh, come on, Peyton. Surely you know." When Peyton continued to stare at him as if he'd sprouted breasts and a second head, Lucas sighed, admitting, "If we were alone I can't say that I couldn't promise to keep my hands to myself."

"Oh." The word came out breathless. Peyton reached for her iced tea, her mouth suddenly dry, her body warm. And neither had a flake to do with the weather.

"Precisely," Lucas said, reacting perversely to his confession as well. "I don't have much resistance where you're concerned, Peyton. I never have. And I just don't want to act too impulsively here." He swished his straw around his glass, cursing when his soda sloshed over the top, spilling onto the table. He wiped it up with one quick sweep of a napkin, looking contrite. "It's been hard—no pun intended, obviously—to avoid throwing myself at you. It's important that we tread lightly here. After all this just isn't about us."

Peyton hadn't forgotten about Lily, of how important she was to Lucas and/or the situation that they were in. "I would never do anything to purposefully hurt Lily," she told him, needing him to know that she was sincere, despite the many times she'd told him so.

"I know that." He reached across the table to take her hand in his. "I believe that you won't. Not on purpose." She started to protest, but snapped her mouth closed on second thought. Rubbing his fingertips across her knuckles, Lucas said, "We've skirted the issue, Peyton and I think that it's time that we talked about it. It's like a big cloud hanging over us and if we're going to go forward, we've got to get through it."

Confusion clouded her bright eyes. "I'm not following."

"The past four years, Peyton," he iterated. "It's time that we talk about what's been going on in our lives for the last few years. Our jobs, our love lives—hell, especially our love lives."

Peyton shifted uncomfortably in her seat. There were things that she needed to tell him, but, looking around, perhaps this wasn't the place to have that conversation. Not her side anyway. "Can I table mine for the time being?" Before he could object, she added, "It's just that there's some things that I need to tell you and I had hoped to do it in private."

Lucas wasn't too keen on that idea, but he agreed. So, he told his story, most of which she already knew. His mom had died, leaving him to care for Lily. He'd had the occasional date, just to appease Nathan and Haley, but they never went anywhere. He was always waiting for…something, someone. Her. He'd been waiting for her to come back. Despite how much it had hurt when things had soured between them, that she hadn't returned for his mother's funeral, he had wanted her. He would want her until his last dying breath. It was a sobering thought.

When their food arrived the wheels were turning in his head, scenarios playing and replaying as to what this dire information could be. Because it was dire. She wanted to tell him in private where he couldn't make a scene—and she was scared that he would. Fear gripped him by the neck and yet he pasted a smile on his face and managed to salvage their lunch even though he wondered if their new slate would be erupted by whatever it was that she had to tell him.

Lucas didn't see Peyton for three days after their lunch. They talked on the phone, they emailed one another, but he didn't see her. He wasn't sure if she was busy—which she attested to—or she was ignoring him purposefully. There'd been a moment of awkwardness after he'd told her that he wanted her, followed by the cloud of uncertainty that had ensconced them after he'd suggested that it was time they fully disclose what had gone on in their lives during the four years they'd spent apart. It wasn't like he had suggested a massacre; only a conversation. She had something to hide, and he'd been left to wonder what it was.

He had no idea where this thing with them was going if, in fact, it was going anywhere at all. One thing was for sure, though. They wouldn't make much progress if she didn't trust him enough to tell him what had happened in Los Angeles. How bad could it possibly be? Did she have such little faith him that he couldn't take it? That he couldn't—wouldn't—understand?

Not once since she'd returned had she alluded to her life there. If she was happy or sad, loved it or hated it. Sure, he hadn't asked, hadn't really wanted to know. Some things were better left unsaid. Still, even if she'd spent the last four years in a committed relationship with some L.A. hotshot actor he wouldn't have cared—he just wanted to know. Even if he wasn't her boyfriend, he was her friend and as a friend he wanted to be privy to those years of her life. He longed for her to confide in him as she had once upon a time.

He sat in the living room staring at the television, toying with the idea of turning it on to actually watch it. Lily was at a sleepover and he hadn't felt like doing much beside what had had been doing—mulling. He thought about calling Peyton; he got as far as dialing, too. In the end he clicked off, not wanting to pressure her. She would tell him when she was good and ready, he just had to be patient. Unfortunately, patience was one virtue he lacked.

Frustrated, he went into his room to grab his basketball. There was no easier way to get rid of tension than to shoot some hoops. Well. There was another way, but… that wasn't happening anytime soon. Unfortunate, that.

He grabbed his keys off the table, but when he opened his door, he found Peyton standing there, her hand poised to knock. Quickly her hand fell away as she pasted a fake smile on her face, exclaiming, "Oh. Hi!" Then, noting the basketball tucked under his arm, her forehead wrinkled and, it seemed, her body relaxed, releasing a tension he hadn't noticed until just then. "You're leaving?"

"I was just gonna head out to the Rivercourt." He stepped aside, waving her in.

Peyton breezed past Lucas, but stopped in the foyer, spinning around to face him. "Really, Luke, if you had plans, don't bow out on my account. I can just—" She made a move for the door, but Lucas blocked her, taking her elbow to prevent her from trying to leave.

"No. Basketball can wait." He let the ball slip from beneath his arm, the sound of it bouncing across the floor heavy in the silence. Dropping his hand, Lucas pushed the door closed, spun the lock. Just in case. He moved around her into the kitchen calling over his shoulder, "Want something to drink?"

"Yes. No. Yes." Her indecision was a clear sign of her nervousness. Peyton paused, biting into her lower lip. "What do you have?" she finally asked. Get a grip, girl, she chided herself.

"A little of this, a little of that," he said, shooting her a wink and a smile over his shoulder. Pulling open the refrigerator, he noted the contents, rattling off, "Milk, orange juice, water, beer—"

"Beer's good," Peyton interjected quickly.

Lucas returned to her side a moment later handing her a beer, keeping one for himself. As he took a long gulp he regarded her with avid curiosity. She wondered what he found so compelling. Then he said, "I haven't seen you in a few days."

"I've been—" she started.

"Busy. Yeah I know. So you've said." He rubbed his eyes, turning to walk away. "I'm trying to not take this personal, Peyton," he began, facing her once more. "But it's kind of hard, especially with you being so aloof right now." He watched her closely, the way her eyes refused to meet his, how her fingers gripped the bottle in her hand so tightly her knuckles had whitened.

He had her there. So maybe she was being aloof; after all she'd come here with an agenda, but then again Lucas had opened the door before she was able to gather her bearings. She was allowed to be a tad off-kilter.

She'd known for days that they needed to talk, needed to have that blasted conversation that Lucas had suggested during their lunch date. But she'd put it off. She hadn't done it purposefully, well…not really, anyway. She'd needed a few days to get her head together, to sort out what she was going to say, how she was to explain. That was all.

As easy Lucas was to talk to, there were some things that she was uncomfortable sharing with him. Certain events that had transpired her years in Los Angeles being one of those things.

"I'm sorry, Lucas," she apologized, setting her bottle down on the kitchen table. Circling the rectangular table, putting it between them, she said, "I've been ignoring you, I admit it."

Lucas set his bottle beside hers, bracing his palms on the table. He bent his head for a second, willing himself to stay calm. Damn it they weren't even dating and already she was erecting those walls that she was so famous for. Lifting his head, he leaned toward her, scowling. It was a gesture meant to intimidate her and it did its job. She stepped back, turning her back to him.

From behind her, Peyton heard Lucas expel a sigh, then curse. She was aware of him moving, but she didn't dare turn around to see where he was. A chair scratched the floor and she wasn't sure whether it moved because he'd pulled it out intending to sit, or he'd kicked it in frustration. She wished he would just say something.

After several moments of grueling silence, he finally spoke. "You gonna tell me why you've been doing that? We've been doing good the last few weeks, Peyton. I thought we were making progress."

"We are, Lucas!" she exclaimed, at once turning to face him. "But this isn't about you—it has nothing at all to do with you—it's about me."

Swiftly he circled the table, seizing her by the shoulders. Staring down at her, he begged, "Then tell me, Peyton—tell me why you're pulling away. If there's something wrong, I can help. You just have to trust me."

With his naked plea, Peyton wanted to crumple into tears. But she couldn't do that. Not right now. She'd come here to tell him, to spill all of her dirty little secrets, but now that he was standing before her, bearing down with her with such distrust and apprehension in his eyes, she wondered if she was strong enough to tell him about L.A., about everything that had happened. She wasn't sure that she could handle him pushing her away again. Then the words slipped out of her mouth and she immediately longed to call them back: "I was pregnant."

Panic seized him at once. His breathing became ragged, his heart hammering like a staccato in his chest. Surely she didn't mean…? Had that been why she'd returned? Because their lone night together had produced a child? He was grateful to her for doing so, but why hadn't she said so before now? Or maybe… or maybe she'd just found out? It would certainly explain Peyton's odd behavior of late. Then his overworked brain took a breath and her words registered: I was pregnant. Was. Past tense.

Quickly Lucas's grip on her shoulders loosened, and he took a step back. Peyton was grateful for the space, finally able to expel the breath that she had unconsciously been suppressing. "You wanted to know about my life in L.A., right?" Mutely, he nodded. "Well, there it is."

She wasn't pregnant now, but she'd been pregnant at one point. In the past. But when? The question was on the tip of his tongue, but Lucas did not voice it aloud. For long moments silence reigned, Lucas unable to say anything, Peyton too scared to broach conversation for fear of what he might say. Unable to take the silence any longer, Lucas spoke. "Was it—I mean, it wasn't…?" he trailed off, knowing that she'd understand what he was trying to ask. God knows he couldn't bear to utter the words himself.

Peyton shook her head. "No," she whispered, her voice not her own. Clearing her throat, she tried again, relieved when she was able to speak at a normal decibel. "It wasn't yours. I wouldn't have done that to you." A baby with Lucas would've given her so much joy. She had wished and hoped that it had been his, but the timing had been all wrong; she and Lucas hadn't been together in months. "Not that I didn't wish and hope that it had been yours." A wisp of a smile crossed her lips. "It wasn't so."

Lucas tried to find relief in that, but he just couldn't. Peyton had been pregnant with another man's child. He didn't know how he felt about that. He knew he had no right to care either way. They were broken up. But still. It should've been his child—their child. He couldn't help the flood of anger and resentment that coursed through him in that moment.

"Who, um…," he began, but stopped himself. Did he really want to know who the hell was responsible for getting her with child? Curiosity was besting him, yes, but did he really care for her answer? It may make his brain implode to hear it was just some nameless, faceless one night stand. Then again if Peyton and this guy had been serious, that could probably do more harm than good. As if he had a right to an emotion either way. They were broken up, leading separate lives. She was free to date, sleep with or marry whoever she chose. He didn't have to like it, but he had to accept it. Yet the questions still ran rampant through his head: Where was this guy now? Had he abandoned her when he'd found out that she was pregnant? Had Peyton even told him? God, the questions. His head hurt, he needed to sit down. Or have a drink. He swiped his beer off the table and took a long swallow.

Peyton began moving as she spoke, circling him, focused she was on her story. "His name was Brian. Our paths had crossed numerous times over the years, but we'd never really introduced ourselves. He worked for another record company and we'd met at this party for this musician that my label had just signed. His company had been trying to woo her away, to no avail."

She didn't smile with the recollection, Lucas noted. "So what happened? Where's he now?" he was propelled to ask.

"Don't know," Peyton answered with a shrug. "I was looking for something with Brian, hoping that he'd fill the void in my life, in my heart, left behind when you and I ended things. But he wasn't you. After so many dates I think he realized that."

Peyton resumed walking, making her way through the living room to the sliding door that led onto the balcony. Pulling the door open she breathed the cool night air into her lungs, taking a small reprieve from her trip down memory lane. Leaning against the door she looked out into the night, at the neighborhoods that surrounded the apartment complex thinking of the husbands and wives putting their children to bed, the bachelors and bachelorettes contented with their single lives, the loves lost, the loves still yet unfound. Finally, her gaze slid back to Lucas who stood a mere foot away, looking at her, waiting with his next breath for the next portion of her story.

"We talked about you, you know. Well." She paused. "More like fought about you." A bewildered expression washed across Luke's face. "I kept a picture of us on my nightstand. Even after… I could never bear to push it into a drawer. It stayed there on my nightstand so that we were the last thing I saw before I went to sleep every night and the first thing I saw every morning when I woke." Peyton shivered, unsure if it was due to that concession or the chill in the air. A bit of both, she guessed. "Once after we'd been together…he asked me about it. I didn't lie. I told him that you were the one that got away—the one I pushed away. I think that he couldn't compete, with you—with us—anymore so he just…left." Peyton shrugged her shoulders, breathing deeply to ward off the tears threatening to spill over. "I don't blame him. Can't, really. I'm a train wreck."

Lucas stepped forward, pulled her inside and toward him. Turning her so that they were face to face, he lifted her chin with his index finger, making her look at him. "You are not a train wreck. Maybe a little high maintenance—" Peyton summoned a wan smile. "—but definitely not a train wreck."

A renegade tear made its way down Peyton's cheek then. Before she could lift her hand to wipe it away, Lucas swiped it with the pad of his thumb, slowly, methodically, the touch turning into a bittersweet caress. Quickly, she moved out of his arms not content with his tender touch, his loving words amidst her damnable confessions. "When I lost it… when I lost the baby… I thought it was a punishment… a punishment for not allowing us to be, for constantly running away, for pushing you away time after time after time."

Sensing that she needed her space, Lucas watched as she moved across the room. He wanted to gather her in his arms and hold her, but something told him that his advances would be unappreciated. Instead he concentrated on her and the story that she felt that she had to share with him.

"The day I found out I called you. Do you remember that?" Her fingers had dialed his number before she could stop herself. She wasn't even sure what she was going to say to him, it had been so long since they had spoken, but she had to hear his voice. In the end he hadn't been home, but she'd heard his voice on his answering machine; that had been enough—plenty, in fact.

Lucas knew the day that she was talking about. He had just refused yet another of Haley's single college friends. He wasn't ready to date; he had Lily to think about, to care for. Plus he was still mending his broken heart. She had called him, but he hadn't been home. When he returned home to her blustery message he had debated returning her call. Something in her voice told him that she needed him, but in the end he just deleted the missive and went about his life as if she had never reached out to him. "It was too soon. I just… I-I c-couldn't," he faltered in his explanation.

"I shouldn't have done it. I knew after I called that it was wrong. I had no right… but Lucas there was no one I wanted to talk to more than you. I was pregnant with someone else's child but yet you were the only one that I wanted to share the news with. When I heard your voice on the answering machine I couldn't tell you. I couldn't be that cruel. Not after all the plans that we had made together, the hopes that we'd had for a future together. So I made some lame excuse for calling and then I hung up. Afterwards, when you didn't call back, I walked around the city and let it sink in." She looked at him, then, met his eyes straight on. "I wanted it, Lucas. I did. It wasn't planned and, yes, I freaked out at first, willed the test to be negative, but… it was a baby. I was going to track down Brian and tell him, then… th-then… before I could…" her voice caught, and he knew the moment that she surrendered to the tears that she'd been battling away. "Then it was gone," she finished with a barely audible whisper.

At that moment Lucas lost Peyton. If he'd had any questions, she was unable to answer them for she crumpled onto the floor, sobs wracking her slender frame, sobs that he deduced she hadn't shed since she'd suffered the miscarriage or whatever had happened—she hadn't been clear on that point.

He fell to the floor beside her at once, pulling her into his arms despite her refusal. He remained steadfast against the flay of her hands, the sting of her fingernails digging into his arms. He didn't leave her, but simply held her while she cried in his arms over the mistakes that she'd made, the baby that she'd loved and lost and perhaps the relationship that she'd always viewed as doomed to fail. He held her while her heart broke and his broke for her. For them.