A/N: Thank you all so much for the great feedback! I will be responding to reviews (and reading!) over the next few days...life's getting hectic so I have a lot of catching up to do, lol!
It's the same old drill: I don't own OTH, the characters, or anything quoted "'within triple marks'", merely how I choose to utilize them! I also did something slightly different at the beginning of this chapter.
Chapter title comes from a lyric in "Butterfly (She Flies Alone)" by Journey. It's actually the song that inspired this entire fic...the melody, the quality of his voice on some words...
Also, there's an important note at the bottom, so please read it. And I hope you enjoy this update! :)
Ch7: The Silent Rage, 'Cause No One Ever Listened
Larry sighs, staring at his unconscious daughter. Sometimes, her utter stillness evokes a terrifying image. Of Anna. Right before he lost her.
He thinks even a tiny twitch of Peyton's finger would ease those thoughts away. She's never, in her entire life, been this still. Even in sleep, she always moved. Until now. And he hates those kinds of thoughts. He's done well keeping them at bay, but Karen's earlier allusions have brought them to mind again. He doesn't know what he'll do if Peyton never moves again.
"I'm sorry."
He takes his despairing eyes from his daughter to land on the weary woman next to him. Her eyes are puffy and red, probably made worse with her constant rubbing. Even as he thinks this, her hand goes up again, trying to rid her face of the evidence of tears.
He regards her solemnly. "You don't have to apologize to me."
"But I do." Karen protests, voice raspy still, even though she'd stopped crying a while ago. "I came here, wanting to...I just thought you'd need someone here with you. I didn't mean to cry all over you. Or make it about me."
"It's okay." When she shakes her head, he sighs. "Karen, I understand. Remember what I told you about Peyton holding us together after Anna died?"
She nods, sending a glance towards the teenaged girl in question.
Larry nods softly, too. "I was a wreck after that happened. I probably did a lot of things I shouldn't, but she gave me a reason to continue. And she forgave any bad things I did do. Lucas will understand, once you explain it to him."
Those words, he hopes, will act as support for a conversation she needs to have with her son. And maybe even as an open invitation to further explain what she thinks she did.
After she'd finally stopped crying that morning, the doctors had come in to check on Peyton. Karen had excused herself to go clean up, and Larry had gotten distracted by the hope of any news regarding his baby girl. There hadn't been anything he hadn't heard before. No reason...perfectly, physically fine...strong vitals...blah, blah, blah. The lack of change was beyond frustrating. To the point where he'd rashly, irrationally, thought he'd prefer bad news, just to hear something different. Then the guilt had him wanting to kick his own ass for even thinking something like that. The only news he wanted to hear was that Peyton had woken up. Nothing else really mattered.
He'd been mentally exhausted by the time the doctors left. A little numb when Karen returned. He just couldn't bring himself to ask, to have to deal with her storm of emotions when he felt this vulnerable. So they'd sat in silence, both lost in their own thoughts and listening to the constant beeping that signified life sustained.
They'd only roused long enough to pick at the food on their plates in the cafeteria, making the most banal small talk before returning upstairs.
That's when they found Lucas, looking like a broken shell of the kid Larry had previously teased about his weapon of choice in protecting Peyton. A kid Larry had then asked to watch out for his daughter, completely certain he would anyway. The kid who carried his daughter out of the school after she'd been shot.
The kid whose mother said she'd blamed him for the death of her fiancé.
Larry hadn't been surprised at all when the blonde teen had taken one look at his mother, mumbled some excuse under his breath, and quickly left. Karen had started crying again, whimpering that Lucas hated her now, allowing herself to rest against Larry in her tears. A sharp contrast to when he'd tried to hold her the other day and she'd been stiff as a board. Larry was practically positive he didn't want to ask what she meant, didn't want to hear her say that if her son hadn't saved his daughter, her fiancé wouldn't have died.
But he was asking anyway.
"I didn't mean it like that." The brunette whispers, eyes pleading as she meets his gaze. "Keith's gone, Larry. And a part of me thinks that he wouldn't be if Lucas hadn't been in that school. But the rest of me...the rest of me knows he would've."
"Because he was a good guy." Larry says, carefully watching her eyes for signs of acceptance.
She nods, sniffling a little. "He was. The best. But that was only part of it."
He gives her a few moments to collect herself before prompting, "Part of it?"
"Yeah." She inhales deeply. "When I found out that my son had ran back into a dangerous situation...and then—we lost Keith. I don't...I don't have Keith anymore, and I almost didn't have Lucas, either."
She warbles to a finish, breathing brokenly, looking like she's holding herself together by threads. But he gets it. "I know what you mean. But you have to tell him, too."
She just nods. And looks over at the hospital bed. He follows her gaze to his sleeping daughter. He has to think of her as simply sleeping, because that means she'll wake up. She looks so peaceful...but he can't help hoping she's not, else she stay that way. He's distracted by a gentle weight on his arm, looking down to see Karen's hand.
"You'll have the chance, too, Larry. To tell her what she means. I know it."
He simply nods. And manages to swallow his tears until he hears the soft click of the door signaling Karen's departure. Then he lets them fall.
0.o o_o o.0
Karen pushes open the kitchen door, easing into the oddly comforting dimness of her home, letting it surround her for a moment. Just long enough to gather the wherewithal to speak with her son about what had happened that morning.
Flipping the light switch, letting the artificial brightness flood the room, she furrows her brow at what it reveals. There's a mostly full mug of coffee sitting next to a crumb-filled plate. The chair, however, is lying on its side, flush against the cabinets, looking like it had skidded to a rough stop. Another chair is pushed out as well; making her wonder if someone else had come to the house.
Her eyes drift to the baseboard, stained with the chocolate of last night. She cringes at the memory of the sound of shattering ceramic and the absolute silence from her son that followed.
Lightly shaking her head, Karen moves to dump used dishes into the sink, right the chairs, and launch a search of the house for Lucas.
He's not there. And she's afraid he might not come back. But, right now, she's nowhere near ready to go and find him. So she sits at the table, once again in shadows. To wait.
And maybe she cries. Just a little more. For a lot of reasons.
0.o o_o o.0
Lucas is perched atop a lunch table in the deserted quad, blankly considering the building in front of him. The very part of the school where he lost an uncle and a friend.
Well, where he nearly lost a friend, since she's still alive. Just in a coma.
He mutely scoffs, hating himself and what he caused. Even though she's in a coma, she was somehow able to communicate with him. But now that's no longer true. And he doesn't know why. He has an idea. He figures it has to do with their argument this morning, when he basically told her he didn't care what happened to her.
He does care. Of course he does. But he can't tell her that now. He looked everywhere he could think of, tried many different tricks, but nothing had the green-eyed blonde popping up in front of him and spouting things he needs to hear her say. Instead, there's only a deafening silence. He can't even feel her anymore. He always used to be able to, even when he pretended that he couldn't.
He's been sitting on that table practically all evening, reveling in the uninterrupted time to try and think it through. He has two theories, both equally unsatisfying, but one more bearable than the other. It can mean that something went terribly wrong and she's no longer on this earth in the same way she was before. Or that he has now joined the ranks of those who cannot see, hear, nor touch her. While he hates the latter option, at least it gives him hope. That maybe he can fix it, making it possible to once again have her in his life until she really wakes up. The former option isn't one he chooses to think about, only letting it briefly settle in his mind before discarding it.
That option isn't true. It can't be, since she's still alive. And as long as he remembers that, he'll be able to function.
A faint movement from the corner of his eye causes his head to whip around, eyes searching. He deflates a little when it proves to not be Peyton, but Mouth instead. He sighs, sending a nod to his friend, who offers a timid smile back.
"Hey, Luke."
"Hey, Mouth."
He eases himself down beside Lucas, seeming like he wants to say something but doesn't know how. Lucas isn't really in the mood for company, but he doesn't want to be rude to one of best friends. So he waits for whatever it is his friend wants to say. He just hopes it comes soon, because he really wants to be alone right now. He needs to come up with a plan for his MIA Peyton situation.
"I'm sorry. For making you upset at Keith's wake."
It's offered simply, in a tone that reflects no real apology. Lucas feels himself bristle, recalling the reason for his anger at Mouth a few days ago. At the utter gall it took for the guy to mention Jimmy's funeral in his home, at a gathering to mourn his uncle, the uncle Jimmy took away.
"But not sorry for what you meant to ask." Lucas bites out, letting the bitterness through as he looks at the boy next to him.
Mouth shifts uncomfortably, staring down at his hands. He shrugs before meeting Luke's eyes. "He was our friend, Luke."
"Right up to the point when he killed my uncle."
Mouth flinches slightly, but doesn't break eye contact. "I know. But—"
"There aren't any buts. Not for that. Not ever." Lucas' voice is cold and hard-edged, his anger and conviction clear. Clear enough to have Mouth averting his eyes to his shoes, watching his fingers fiddle with the lacing.
He looks so young doing so, like a kid who still has the shine of innocence, that Lucas reins his anger in. He doesn't really have the energy for another heated encounter. Nor does he want to have another thing laid on his shoulders to later atone for.
"Look, Mouth...I just don't want to hear it right now. Okay?"
The other boy looks back up, eyes haunted. "Do you remember when we were all twelve? And we took that oath about always looking out for each other, after Junk nearly fell off the pier? You and Jimmy pulled him back over."
Lucas tightens his mouth and narrows his eyes as the memory unfolds. A group of boys, emotions running on adrenaline and scared half out of their wits, promising that no matter what, they'd have each others' backs. It's a memory now tainted, because of Jimmy. And what he did. And he can't help resenting Mouth for bringing it up now, with no real purpose that Luke can see.
Almost as if he said that aloud, Mouth continues, "Jimmy was my best friend. And I didn't notice when it got this bad. I stopped having his back." He chokes up at the end, breathing shallowly.
Looking over and seeing the tears that start forming in his friend's eyes, Lucas sighs, dropping his own head. After that, he can't even muster up a kernel of anger towards Mouth. It's just not worth it.
It's a little surprising for Lucas to learn that someone else is carrying around that same guilt regarding Jimmy. But he feels it's different, too. With him, most of that guilt is aimed at what Jimmy's actions cost him, his mom...and his uncle. For Mouth, it can't possibly be rooted in that same ground.
"Why?" He didn't even know he was going to say anything when he looked over at his friend. But now his curiosity is lit.
Mouth gives a half-hearted shrug and shakes his head. "I don't know. It just kind of happened. I mean, I started making new friends, and Jimmy didn't want to do anything anymore..."
"Yeah."
That's true for the most part. Lucas remembers having so much to deal with after joining the basketball team: getting to know Nathan, dating Brooke, messing things up with Peyton, trying to take down Dan. He had a lot of drama happen since last year, and his old friends kind of got lost in the shuffle. Except those that forged their own bonds in his newly acquired social group.
But that still doesn't excuse what Jimmy did. Or what Mouth is now asking of him.
"Jim's funer—"
"No." The response is almost robotic, stated calmly without even a hint of emotion behind it.
Mouth looks at him desperately, "But—"
"No." This time it's firmer, harder. Colder.
Mouth falls silent, looking at Lucas with a broken expression before simply sliding off the table. A lowly murmured we promised is all Lucas hears as the other boy walks away. Groaning softly, he studies the building in front of him with a little more intensity, wishing mightily that everything in that hallway had happened differently. Since it didn't, since he can't do anything about it now, Lucas pushes himself off the table and turns his back on the school, walking away.
He just needs to find Peyton.
0.o o_o o.0
It's the silence she notices first. The only thing audible is the monotonous, continuous beeping. Cautiously lowering her hands from her ears, she pries open her eyes and looks around in confusion. It's dark. And empty, save for the unconscious girl in the hospital bed.
There's no Larry, no Karen. Only her and herself.
Clasping her hands together, she inhales deeply, holding her breath a little and shutting her eyes, turning in the direction of the clock. One, two, three...open.
Holy crap. This time, she hasn't lost mere minutes, or even an hour or so. No, she lost the entire day. If it's still the same day. And she remembers nothing from it, either. It's just blank.
It's terrifying that she can't explain it. That she doesn't know the cause. Why or how it happens. Only that it does. There's a small part of her that's relieved, though. It couldn't have happened at a better time, in her opinion. She wasn't ready to face Karen's or her dad's emotions. Not when hers were still so muddled from her blow-up with Lucas.
Peyton grimaces at the last thought. She still doesn't really want to think about it, so she focuses on another question that was raised earlier.
She turns her gaze to the still-open door of her hospital room, tilting her head and considering the doorway. Before she blanked out, she'd been unable to walk through it. Maybe because she was so frantic? Biting her lip, Peyton moves confidently forward, intending to just step outside the door.
She can't.
Frowning, she takes a step back. "What the hell?" Concentrating this time, she makes another attempt. That fails.
She moves to absently seat herself in a chair by the bed, mind racing. She'd been hoping her inability to leave had something to do with the frenetic nature of her earlier emotions. She's much calmer now, but she still can't leave that room by that door. Though she had never tried to before now, anyway.
Well, there are other ways to leave a room when you're basically insubstantial. A tiny smirk dances around her mouth at her cynical quip. Settling further into her chair, she brings to mind the cemetery, with it's oddly peaceful tranquility and grassy paths.
But she's still there, in that damn room. Worried now, she stares at her hands in her lap, twisting her fingers together as she thinks. Wondering what changed since she popped up in Lucas' house. It was so easy to do it then. And, as far as she's aware, nothing is different with her. She tries again, focusing on the details and feelings that come with a trip to her mom's headstone. Nothing.
Rising, Peyton walks over to the hospital bed and studies 'her' serene expression. Then the monitors, with their incessant noise. Nothing seems different there, either. Sighing, she leans against the bed, closing her eyes and letting out the barest whisper, "I just want to see my mom."
She jerks to her feet at the sensation of falling, eyes flying open. Freezing, she takes in her surroundings. The quiet of the cemetery at night, her mom's headstone in all its familiarity. She's bewildered. But she also doesn't care, because she's where she wants to be.
Dropping cross legged in front of her mom's headstone, Peyton looses a long, drawn out huff of breath, letting herself release the tension from earlier. "Hi mom. It's me...again." She smiles faintly, sardonically. "But I guess you know that. I just...I don't know what to do. Things aren't normal, in any sense of the word, right now. And I'm...I'm scared, mom."
Falling silent, she shifts, pulling her legs up to her chest and hugging her knees close. She lowers her forehead to her knees with a tiny whimper, the urge to cry overwhelming. She's not sure how long she holds that position, battling back dry sobs, trying to focus on the sound caused by the light breeze swirling around the trees and grass. Finally raising her head, Peyton props her chin on the spot where her forehead had previously been, staring at the engraved name in front of her. "Momma? Is there music in heaven?"
She pauses, a little startled to hear her voice crack on the question. Surprised at the question itself, since she hadn't realized, hadn't recognized, that she was actually losing faith that she'd wake up.
"Daddy thinks I'm a fighter...but I don't feel like one. I feel like it's just too hard sometimes. I mean, Ellie told me I got the surviving part down, which I do, but—I sometimes feel like that's all I can handle. And lately, I'm not even doing that much anymore. Instead, I'm like...this."
Downtrodden, frustrated, Peyton falls silent, wishing that her mom could really talk to her about this. Or that it wasn't like this at all. That she was just her again, going through life with all it's problems and joys. Instead of stuck in an in-between. And not really knowing why. Or how to get out of it.
"I'm trying to be hopeful, here. You know? Especially for Dad...he's not ready to be alone yet." She gives a half-laugh, "And who would take care of Brooke? You remember how she was...she still is. She can't do it by herself." She smiles a little, thinking about her best friend. She really does miss her.
"And Lucas." This part is said so softly, it's almost not strong enough to pierce the silence. Peyton brings her knuckle to rub at an eye, making a face of self-deprecation. "I know, I know. I'm still mad and hurt by this morning...I think it was this morning? Anyway, not the point. The point is, I care about what happens to him. I don't like seeing him like this. And, he's probably not ready to permanently lose another person from his life...so I should wake up from that stupid coma. Right?"
She hates feeling this way. But she really is losing hope. She doesn't understand why this happening to her or what the point of it all is supposed to be. She just wants something to happen, whether it means waking up or not.
If she's honest, both options kind of scare her, in their own ways. But she would really rather be alive, though.
Peyton sighs, returning to her original topic, "I hope there is music there. The good kind, not the...weird, harpy...stuff, that people always assume. But, like, bands." She has to grin at the thought that enters her mind, "Oh! hey, you like to sing...I'm not musical, but whatever...and Ellie's a good writer... if the music sucks, we could probably just do our own. what'cha think?"
Peyton rolls her own eyes at her own notion. It's kind of depressing. She really should try to be more optimistic sometimes.
Her musings are interrupted by an unexpected rustling sound. A gasp escapes and she straightens her back at the sight of Dan Scott heading towards Keith's headstone. He's striding at a brisk pace, glaring around at his surroundings almost frantically. She scans the area as well, not seeing anything.
"'It's not gonna work you know.'"
Her eyes widen in startled confusion, glancing around to try to see who he might be talking to. There's no way he can see her...can he?
"'I'm not gonna carry this around with me. I did what I did, and it's done!'" He's still glaring, whipping his head to look around him. His gaze basically skips right over her.
Peyton swiftly climbs to her feet, approaching Dan, questioning, "Who are you talking to?"
She's not really surprised when there's no answer. But she's still completely mystified.
His tone goes from an angry half-shout, to a seething, forcefully loud whisper. "'So you come around now, you...whiny ghost...you won't scare me!'"
Peyton feels her mouth drop open, bringing a hand to her chest at the implication of someone else being there. Someone Dan can see, but she can't. Maybe someone in the same situation as hers.
"'As a matter of fact, tonight I'm gonna sleep like a baby,'" Dan continues his ranting, pacing in front of his brother's headstone. But Peyton's more focused on trying to see if someone else really is there...or if Dan just cracked. "'You wanna know why? Because you started this war!'"
She flinches when his voice raises again, startling at the words. He focuses straight at Keith's stone this time, "'I just finished it! I just finished it.'"
There's one last glare before he spits on the ground in front of his brother and stalks off almost as quickly as he came.
Peyton's mind is spinning. She has no idea how to take what just happened. Or even which part to focus on first; the chance there's someone else there, the possibility of it being Keith, or the meaning behind what Dan said.
She just needs to find Lucas. He's her person to talk to about this kind of stuff.
As soon as she thinks of him, she has to catch herself from stumbling, blinking her eyes rapidly in an attempt to steady herself. It's so unexpected she can't help but exclaim, "What the hell?"
At the sound of her voice, the blonde boy sitting on the bleachers in front of her jerks his head up. "Peyton..."
The breathless way he says her name has air catching in her throat. But she ignores that. "Something weird just happened at the cemetery."
He just stares at her. She stares right back. There are a lot of emotions swirling in the space between them; she has no clue what to do with them. And, apparently, neither does Lucas.
A/N: Okay, before anyone asks, I don't plan on LP finding out what Dan did...at all, but especially via her situation. I feel like that would be a little too "campy", and that there's enough going on without Dan stuff :) I just liked that scene, and decided to use it as a catalyst for LP and for future possibilities! On that topic, this chapter felt more transitional than anything...so I'm extra sorry it took longer to post! :)
Let me know what you're thinking about this...I'd love to hear it!
