Author's Note: 'Ello, ello' lol. Okay so here it is another night/morning, another chapter! Woohoo for insomnia. Okay, well anyways. I hope you all enjoy it. Really I do. A huge thank you to all of you who keep me going in writing, seriously you guys are AHHMAZING!

As for the announcment that I told you all to keep an eye out for. Its actually a two parter. First of all...I have read some fanfictions and saw that some of the we're doing kind of like a Q and A thing ( for those who dont know what that is, its question and answer) and I really like that idea. So I am opening the floor, or rather my inbox to all of you who read my stories to ask me questions. It can be about this story, other stories, about me. And I will answer all of them in a special posting. It just really sounds like fun. So please feel free to ask away, I am an open book :)

As for the second thing. I am currently working on an outline for another story :) Yes another one. It will be a Michael story. And I will post a teaser for it at the end of an upcoming chapter. I wont tell you which one, but you wont be able to miss it when I do it :)

Okay, now to wrap up this sinfully long AN...Onto chapter 29 of LSN. As Always, Read/Enjoy/Review!

Chapter 29: Want And Need

' What a person wants and what a person needs are two completely, separate things. Believe me, I would know. I wanted to be loved, but what I needed to do was love myself first."-Anonymous.


I stare at the journal in front of me, the pen pressed to paper, but the words I need to write just wont seem to come out. It's been three months since the 'incident.' And after six weeks of shutting myself away in silence, I finally came out of it. With the help of Dr. Miranda Conaway. And Michael. My Michael, with endless hope and love, helped drag me back from the brink of darkness.

I smile softly, looking up at the picture of Michael that sits on the edge of my dresser, his smile radiating from the photograph, warming my very soul. I sit back in the chair, dropping the pen onto the desk. I suppose I shouldn't get so frustrated. After all Dr. Conaway is always telling me that this is a marathon not a sprint. Healing is going to be a long process and the more I try to push myself, the more likely it is that I'm setting myself up for failure.

I cant really complain though, because in two and a half months of seeing her twice a week I have come a long way. Managed to vanquish some of the ghosts of my past. But it's the ghosts of my present that still seem too big and menacing for me to face just yet. I still have the nightmares. Bone chilling nightmares that have me thrashing around and gasping for air when Michael can finally pull me from them.

I close my eyes, rubbing my hands over my face.

" Brooke," a soft voice comes from behind me and I turn around, beaming when I see Olivia, one hand resting on her ever extending stomach.

" Liv," I say, making my quickly across my office, gathering her in a tight hug, " I didn't know you we're coming."

" Neither did I, but Caleb is driving me insane," she says laughing lightly as she sits down in a chair, a deep sigh escaping her lips, " He's baby proofing. You know I woke up at 2:30 this morning, because my daughter was so damn set on tap dancing on my bladder, and I couldn't lift the lid. He baby proofed the toilet! Like she's going to come out walking or something."

I cant contain the giggles. Only because my brother, has in fact, been on a baby proofing kick. He even tried baby proofing the ranch. If ever there was a way for someone to be over prepared for something, that's Caleb and the impending birth of his daughter.

" Don't laugh," she pouts and I try to straighten out my face but cant seem to do it.

" I'm sorry Liv, its just. Its so funny," I say, laughing even harder when she throws her hands in the air and starts cursing the fact that she's pregnant.


I step back into the house, waving at Liv, laughing when she grins at me and waves back, blowing a kiss.

" Call me when you get home," I yell after her before closing the door behind me.

" Have fun?" someone asks from behind me and I turn quickly pressing a hand to my chest before smacking Michael on his arm playfully.

" Don't sneak up on me that way," I say shaking my head when he frowns slightly at me.

" I'm sorry," he says, wrapping an arm around my waist, his eyes roaming to the bags that I carry, " Where'd you go?"

" Took Liv out for a few hours," I say, dropping the bags onto the couch before taking a seat, " We went into town. Had lunch, did some shopping. You know, a girl day."

" That's good," he says, pulling me close to him, " I'm so proud of you Brooke."

" For what?" I ask, kicking my shoes off, propping my feet on the edge of the coffee table.

" For your progress," he says, pressing a kiss to my hair, " You've come so far."

" Well, thank you," I say, feeling only slightly uncomfortable about the direction that our conversation has taken, " But I still have a long way to go. I think that's the worst part of this whole process."

" How so?" he asks, and I watch as he lifts my hand, his long fingers playing with mine, and my mind goes fuzzy as I try to think of what it was that he was asking. It's not that I don't want to answer the question. it's the fact that, Michael and I haven't been together, in the intimate sense, since before the incident three months ago. So now, the slightest brush up against him, or him holding my hand, or touching my hair sends red hot tipped arrows of lust straight into my stomach. " Brooke?"

I shake my head, pulling myself from my, less than appropriate thoughts and look up at him.

" Sorry. What was I saying?" I ask, pulling myself away from his hold, deciding that it would be best to distance myself from him.

" You were saying that having a long way to go is the worst part of the whole process. How so?" he asks, a confused look on his face when he see's that I have no intention of returning to his arms.

" Right. It's the worst part because I know that its all about the baby steps. And I'm fine with that, but sometimes it feels like the baby steps aren't getting me anywhere, and its frustrating," I say, pulling my knee's to my chest, resting my head against them.

" Baby," he says, sliding closer, " Believe me, your getting somewhere. Just remember, you aren't in this alone."

" I know," I say, closing my eyes when he presses a kiss to my forehead. I cant help but be left wanting more when he just settles in next to me, and picks up my hand.


" Hello Brooke," Dr. Conaway's voice greets me when I walk through the door to her office, and I smile, pulling off the light cardigan sweater I was wearing.

" Dr. Conaway," I say, smiling when she hugs me before motioning for me to sit in my usual spot. I kick off my pumps and sit, pulling my legs underneath me, letting myself sink into the leather.

" How are you feeling today Brooke?" she asks, her voice dancing around me and I shrug my shoulders lightly, before stopping myself from shutting down.

" To be honest," I say, running my hand through my hair, " Frustrated."

" All right. We'll start there then," she says, pulling her notepad open, tapping her pen rhythmically against her hand, " Why are you frustrated?"

" A lot of things," I say, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, " I feel frustrated with myself. Frustrated that I'm not making quicker progress. And its hard because logically I know, that I cant rush myself through this process, but at the same time I just wish I could hit the fast forward button and be at the end when everything is healed and better. I'm frustrated because I haven't been able to sing. It's like the music just seemed to vanish from my life. But what is really frustrating, is that Michael and I haven't," I trail off suddenly feeling the blood rush to my face, " We haven't been, together, in that way, since before the incident."

" Okay," she says, a bemused smile on her face, " Well lets start with one thing at a time. We've discussed that the feelings of frustration would come and go. And the best thing to do when the feeling does come is to ride it out. It will leave again."

" Right," I say nodding my head at her.

" As for your music, I have a theory, and I could be wrong, but hear me out," she says, " I wonder if you are associating your talent, your gift, with Margot. And I say that because, if it wasn't for the fact that you got a record deal, started recording your music, then you wouldn't have met Blake. And if you wouldn't have met Blake, then the things that happened wouldn't have happened."

I sit back, feeling like a light has suddenly been flipped on in my head, as I realize how much sense that makes.

" Your right. Completely right," I say, feeling slightly shaken by the epiphany.

" But what you need to realize Brooke is this. What happened, happened. Say you didn't get a record deal, or even if you did, but say it happened a day earlier, or a month later, and Margot and Blake hadn't come into your life, Margot would have done this to someone else, eventually. Margot was not a well person. She was mentally ill. You couldn't change that no matter what," she says, passing me the box of Kleenex, and I smile even with the tears rolling down my face.

" I think logically I know that, but in my heart," I trail off shaking my head, " In my heart I wonder if maybe I missed the signs. And if I had just paid closer attention, I would have been able to help."

" Which is completely normal," she says her tone sincere, " Brooke, you have so much compassion inside of you. But you need to separate compassion, from feeling as if its your job to fix everything and everyone."


I sit comfortably in the car, cruise control set to a steady sixty-five, the radio serving as soft background music, as I contemplate the things that I discussed with Dr. Conaway. Mostly I think of what she said about the lack of a intimacy between me and Michael.

' Do you think he's afraid of trying to go there, because of what you went through?' the doctor's voice rolls around in my head, and my heart breaks just a little.

Of course Michael is scared. So am I. Scared that, that part of who we are just wont be the same. Scared that Michael looks at me as someone who is broken. I pull through the gates of the ranch, and with a new resolve decide its time to show Michael, that I'm not broken.

I stare at the bedroom, smiling with satisfaction. Michael isn't the only one who can set a beautiful scene. The room dances with candlelight, the drapes closing the night out. I run my hands over the light pink silk of my teddy, and sit on the edge of the bed. Michael should be here any second, and the realization of that has my heart skipping a beat inside my chest.

When another fifteen minutes pass, I can feel the anticipation building up inside of me as I pace the floor of the room. Where in the world is he? He said he would be back from the studio at ten, and here it is, ten fifteen and he's a no show. I let out a slight growl of frustration, and just before I throw my hands in the air in surrender, the door opens behind me.

" I'm sorry I'm late," Michael's voice trails off, and his eyes scan the room before he looks at me, his eyes going wide, " Brooke? What is this all about?"

I smile, coyly, before dancing towards him, wrapping my arms over his shoulders, kissing him. I sink into the sensation, letting it wash over me, but instead of Michael responding in the way I was hoping he would he pushes me away, his hands circling my upper arms.

" Brooke," he says, his voice throaty as his eyes cloud over, " We cant do this."

" But," I stammer, confused as to why he's so set on pushing me away, " Michael, I need you. Do you get that? Its driving me insane. I cant even be in the same room with you without my mind wandering to inappropriate places. Please."

" No," he says dully his hands dropping off of me, and I feel my throat tightening on me as I blink wildly.

" Michael," I say, but he holds up a hand, easily silencing me.

" No."


Later, I lay in our bed, my heart aching inside of me as I stare at the ceiling. The lingering scent of jasmine dances on the air, and I roll over curling myself into a tight ball. That hadn't gone at all as I had expected. Proof of my failure being in the fact that Michael is sleeping in one of the guest rooms, while I lay here, in one of his shirts and a pair of sweats. I close my eyes tightly, remembering the look of pure panic that crossed Michael's face when I all but threw myself at him, and I groan in embarrassment. I blew it.