Chapter Fifty-One: Your Eyes Open
"Brooke?"
Brooke stared up at her husband, his shape silhouted in the darkness, wondering if she'd fallen asleep.
"What are you doing here?" he asked.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, automatically taking the hand he offered her to get up.
"Coming to find you. Is this..."
Lucas Scott's eyes scanned the gravestone of his wife's first love, then narrowed in undisguised jealousy.
"Talk to me, Brooke," he said.
"About what?"
"Everything. Anything. Give me anything," he pleaded.
"I've got nothing to give any more."
Brooke leaned up to brush a kiss on his lips before walking out of the graveyard, stopping herself from looking behind with difficulty.
It was late at night, her favourite time to drive through Manhattan, the bright street lights taking the space of the stars, the crowds on the sidewalks laughing, yelling, all doing things more fabulous than what happened in her own life.
"I'm sorry. I needed to be there," she said.
"Do I need to keep a closer eye on you?" he asked. She frowned.
"Stop it, you sound like my father," she said dismissively.
"Your father never kept that close of an eye on you. Is that an issue here?"
Brooke scowled at him.
"Stop analyzing me."
"Stop shutting me out!" he countered in disbelief.
They were silent, looking out their windows at everyone on the outside.
"What were you doing at the cemetary, Brooke?" he asked, his voice calmer now.
Brooke took a deep breath before speaking.
"I needed to remember, Lucas. And I couldn't help but wonder what it would have been like, had it been me," she admitted.
He stared at her, remembering the long period of time when they'd both thought it had been, that the baby growing inside her was of another man.
"I'd have forgiven you," he said pointedly.
"Yeah. Ten years ago, I would have forgiven you, too."
Lucas briefly remembered the years he'd spent with his parents, their regret fulled years, how often his father had made his mother miserable. How she'd only been happy when his father had died and she'd been able to escape. When they'd gotten married, he'd promised himself that they'd never be like that. That even if their fairty tale love didn't last forever, that they'd at least be compatable for always. It sounded like a fairly good exchange. Or at least it had been then, on the other side.
"I love you," he said abruptly, knowing it was true and that he was not just holding onto a memory.
She looked sideways and her eyes softened. She opened her mouth to say something before they heard a shriek, which he realized in the next instant was hers before everything went dark.
"Mr. Scott? Mr. SCOTT?"
Lucas blinked hazily, slowly registering the plastered roof, a man hovering above him in a blue cap, eyes narrow with worry.
"Mr. Scott? Can you hear me? Do you know where you are?"
Lucas was pressed back down onto the bed as he tried to get up.
"I'm fine. Where the hell is Brooke?" he asked.
"How many fingers am I holding up, Mr. Scott?" asked the voice, speaking over him.
"Three. It's a Tuesday the year is 2016. I know all that, now can you tell me what the hell is going on with my wife?" he demanded.
The Doctor who had been holding up his fingers glanced sideways at another, who handed him a chart.
"In surgery."
"Why? How? Doesn't someone have to get permission?" he asked.
"She was in danger of bleeding to death," the doctor explained briefly. Lucas fell back onto the bed, a tear threatening to spill out of his eye.
"Is she still?" he demanded.
Haley and Nathan ran into the lobby of the hospital, their hands still locked together. They flagged down an intern and were directed instantly to Lucas' hospital room without a word on Brooke.
Lucas smiled weakly as his sister-in-law rushed into the room, eyes wide with confusion and fear.
"Are you okay?" demanded Nathan. Lucas moved his arm to encircle Haley's waist as she sat on the bed beside him, ignoring Nathan's eyes as they jealously flicked toward him.
"I'm fine. They won't tell me about Brooke. I just know she's in the OR and she's lost blood," said Lucas weakly.
"Dude, she's going to be fine," said Nathan comfortingly. He clutched his brother's hand, willing it to be the truth.
"What happened?" asked Haley nervously.
"We were in the car. Someone hit us. I just remember her screaming, and a big shatter. The windshield, I think," he said. Haley nodded, absorbing this.
"She's tough," she promised.
Haley grasped Nathan's hand, encircling the three of them; Nathan and Lucas, Lucas and Haley, Nathan and Haley. The moment was shattered as the door of the room opened and a Doctor entered.
"Could you excuse us? I have to go over Mrs. Scott's medical history," said the Doctor, looking intimidated. Haley awarded him with a glowing smile before leaving with Nathan.
As Nathan walked with Haley through the spartan halls of the hospital, he reflected in surprise that his hand was still in hers, and she showed no signs of letting go. He looked down at her, remembering even when he knew it was wrong.
"Stop," she said simply, catching his gaze on her.
They walked a few more steps before she stopped abruptly and looked up at him, waiting briefly until he looked back down at her. She frowned slightly in obvious consideration while he stared down at her, waiting.
She glanced across the hall, seeing an empty room. She pulled on his hand, dragging him into the room, shutting the door behind her before pushing him against the wall and pressing her lips on to his.
"Damnit! I can't do this!" cursed Haley angrily, a moment later. Nathan pulled her back in to him, still surprised by her agression and smelled the familiar scent of her hair.
"Please, please do this, Haley," he said softly. She smiled slightly as he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.
"There were reasons. There are still reasons. It was supposed to make me happier. It..."
She trailed off, lost in his dark blue eyes.
"We have to stop crossing all these lines, Nathan. We have to," she said firmly. She broke away from his arms.
"That was the last time," she said firmly, running back out into the hallway. He followed her, his head still spinning, not having bothered to listen to her words, knowing how far they were from the truth.
