Within mere minutes, all four are piling themselves into Nathan's father's
car – it is 5:30 in the morning. Brooke's wet hair is up in a messy bun;
Haley's is cascading down her back like a chestnut-colored wave.
They drive in silence as Nathan kicks the car in gear and speeds down the coastal road back towards the suburbs. Brooke grips Lucas' hand tightly, her breathing shallow – her eyes closed.
Lucas stares blindly outside the car window – there are flecks of sunrise appearing slowly on the horizon, a pastel of orange and soft purple colors. Somewhere further beyond a symphony of frogs croak, with crickets chirping in the background.
Haley James hides her face in an image of composure – embodying calm under pressure. Inside she's nervous, regretful at the fact that she barely knew either Tim or Peyton. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, her hands clenched into fists.
Nathan gazes intently at the street before him – scared at the prospect of what he may find as he turns the bend in the road. He's masked all of his emotions in a façade of arrogance, self-righteousness, and superiority. But now he just feels like a blubbering baby.
Brooke opens her eyes, her jaw shaking slightly as she prepares to face her destiny – turn this page in her life – as the car stops at what appears to be a massacre.
A barely-touched 18-wheeler is stopped in the middle of the road, the back- side tipped over with lumber that was being transported spilled out onto the asphalt. The backside protrudes into the grass beyond the pavement.
But what resides further down the road is a sight that Brooke Davis will never forget for the rest of her life. As she steps from the car her heart stops beating, her lungs stop breathing, for only a second.
Because, what little is left of Peyton Sawyer's vintage sports car is overturned and slammed into the stoplight standing like a solitary beacon in the eerie early-morning darkness.
A gathering of ambulances, police cars, and a fire truck clog the small, rural road – the same road, Haley James realizes that a drugged Brooke, Peyton, and herself traveled down the first time she ever really bonded with Peyton Sawyer.
Brooke begins to shake as she manages to place one foot in front of the other. She walks forward, against her better judgment, but blinded by her desire to know what was going on.
The phone call Haley received had said that Peyton Sawyer had been involved in a serious car accident – this number had been given to the officer making the call by a wounded Peyton so he obliged.
"Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask that you step aside," a tall policewoman says gently, reaching out to Brooke.
"No – my friend... Oh my God, Peyton!" Brooke whispers dryly, sucking in a gasp of air as her hands cover her mouth.
"The girl – oh." The woman realizes who these kids are, and gathers her thoughts. "She's been life-flighted off to the emergency room. A very serious accident took place here about forty-five minutes ago," the woman answers. Brooke falls to her knees, sobbing.
"What about Tim – the other passenger," Nathan Scott manages to inquire hoarsely.
It is then that Brooke sees through her tears to the wreckage, beyond the totaled car, to a hysterical Shari Smith – heaving into her barrel-chested husbands shoulder, as a young paramedic delivers news that no one should ever have to hear.
"I'm so sorry – the paramedics weren't able to save him." The woman stops, obviously realizing the close friendship all of those gathered here had with the victims. "We think he was dead on impact. I'm so sorry. There's someone here that you can talk to if you like," the woman drones on. But no one else is listening.
Nathan draws Haley to him. Her face is strong – her jaw stubbornly set firm; she won't allow herself to give into her emotions, her desire to sob.
Brooke, on the other hand, wails on her knees, the hard concrete digging into her skin. Lucas gathers her close to him, letting her heave into his chest. He catches a glimpse of Shari Smith again and can't bear to look any longer.
Brooke pulls away and looks up at him, her large eyes wet and glistening as water pours down her cheeks. Her hands grasp his face tightly. "Lucas – I cannot lose her. She can't die Lucas, she can't die!" Brooke cries as he pulls her against him again, this time to keep her from seeing the tears that he begins to shed.
**********
She never saw the truck coming down the road until it was too late – perhaps because of the passenger she had to carry or because of her sleepiness. But by the time she did, little could be done.
It was estimated that Peyton Sawyer managed to swerve to her left where the 18-wheeler slammed into the passenger side, probably killing Tim Smith instantly. The vehicle then flipped once, twice, three times, landing roughly fifteen yards from the stopped truck.
The driver immediately exited his vehicle and ran to the overturned sports car. There he managed to remove an extremely bloodied Peyton Sawyer from the vehicle – apparently from a gaping wound in her side and one in her forehead.
The driver placed Peyton on the street, ripping off pieces of his clothing to use as a makeshift tourniquet. However, the whole right side of the vehicle was smashed, and he was unable to remove the seemingly unconscious male passenger from the car.
Rushing back to his vehicle, the driver dialed 911 and the paramedics arrived roughly six minutes later. By then, Tim Smith was dead, and Peyton Sawyer was barely hanging. She provided them the only number she managed to remember off of the top of her head – her best friend, Brooke Davis' cell phone number. She was then immediately life-flighted to the hospital in Chapel Hill. Information regarding the girl's father was uncovered and telephone calls were made to inform him of his daughter's condition.
**********
Her broken chest rises and falls slowly – her once-vibrant golden curls hanging limply around her heavily-bandaged face.
Nathan Scott can't bear to cry in public.
Call it pride or just plain embarrassment; he has a problem shedding tears. But here – alone in this cold, dimly-light hospital room, Nathan wears his heart out on his sleeve.
He apologizes for every wrong he ever committed towards Peyton Sawyer – every mistake he made in regards to what she did. He knows now that she deserved the best, everything he couldn't give to her back then.
But he tells her he's better now – like a recovering alcoholic. She was right – Haley was just what he needed. He thanks her for teaching him to love, no matter how hard it was for him to show it.
He's already lost his best friend – he doesn't want to say goodbye to another. Haley kisses his forehead and allows him to cry into her breast as she gazes towards Peyton, tears in her eyes. She prays for the friendship she was just beginning to know.
**********
Jake Jagielski carries the one woman he will always love in his arms as he sits next to a comatose Peyton Sawyer. He stares at her longingly – sadly. He blames himself for what happened: Tim's death, the accident, and Peyton. Why couldn't he have just stayed a little longer?
"Take a look at the woman I want you to be, Jenny-baby," Jake says sadly as he holds the baby up to see the blonde. Jake leans down and kisses Peyton softly on her bandaged cheek.
**********
Brooke sits down in the chair slowly, biting her lower lip. Her eyes dart alongside Peyton's body – taking in the visual image of her best friend hanging on for her life. Her stomach churns and her hands shake as she pulls the chair up beside the blonde. She touches the cold steel of the bedside.
She's stable – the doctors say – in a coma, but stable. The rest is up to God.
Brooke breathes slowly as her hand finds Peyton's. It's cold, clammy, devoid of all warmth.
She stares at her friend, inhaling deeply as her eyes begin to well up. There are many flowers arranged about the room. News of what happened only hours before has obviously traveled fast.
"Looks like you're pretty popular," Brooke muses, smiling softly. "You even got roses, from Jake. And I always thought he was cheap...not to mention gay." She remembers how Peyton always rolled her eyes whenever Brooke commented on Jake's sexuality.
You're such a dumbass, Brooke, she'd say.
"Peyton – you have to wake up," Brooke says slowly, begging. "I need you to wake up." She begins to cry, and lowers her head – sobbing into the soft linen of the bed, her hands holding Peyton's. When she manages to regain her composure, she looks up at her friend again. She takes a deep breath, gathering her nerve, and continues.
"Your dad's coming back from overseas. He was in Indonesia this time. Which is near Australia. Which is where all those hot surfer boys are! Remember Peyton? Remember how we'd always say that one day we'd pull an Anna Nicole and go knock up some rich dude and steal his money and run off to Australia? And have hot, passionate sex on a surfboard with some gorgeous guy? With long blonde hair? Remember?"
The silence lingers on as Brooke strokes her friend's hand. "Why didn't you tell me you were leaving, Peyton? I would have come with you. Or we could have called Tim's mom. Why did you have to leave, Peyton?" More tears fall as Brooke closes her eyes, her breathing uneven.
"You shouldn't be here, Peyton. You hate hospitals, ever since your mom. You should be out with me. We could go party again – hang out – rent those Tom Cruise movies and watch them till five in the morning! Anywhere but here. So just wake up. Wake up and come back to all of us."
The door opens slowly and a light illuminates the small room. Lucas stands there, his head tilted as he sees Brooke leaning over her friend. He's so overcome with the scene that a tear escapes from his eye as he slowly walks forward.
"How is she?"
Brooke jumps at the sound of his voice.
"She's – still in a coma."
Lucas sits next to Brooke, his hand covering hers and Peyton's.
"I want her to wake up, Lucas."
"Me too – I need to tell her so many things."
Brooke looks away from him and back to Peyton, her heart sinking.
"Why did this have to be so awkward, Brooke? I mean – the three of us. I just wish there was an easier solution to everything."
"We make our choices, I guess. And we can't live life with regrets."
They stop talking for a long time – only staring as Brooke leans her head against Lucas' shoulder. They cry together, as the life they knew only days before begins to crumble down...
They offer silent prayers to the one who holds Peyton's life by a thread.
**********
Brooke tosses and turns in her sleep as her door creaks open slowly. Light from the hallway enters the dark room, shining brightly on Brooke's sleeping face.
She darts up, drawing in breath quickly. Marjorie opens the door completely. Brooke barely recognizes her – what without her makeup...and the stream of tears falling down her cheeks.
"Mom...? Mom, what's wrong?"
"Honey?" Marjorie Davis says slowly as she walks into the room and sits on Brooke's bed. It's four in the morning. "I just got a call from the hospital."
"Oh no," Brooke says slowly, interrupting her mother.
Marjorie nods sadly, gulping. "Peyton's...died. Baby, I am so sorry."
Brooke sits up, stunned. Her throat catches and she turns to her mother and stares dumbly at her. Marjorie embraces her daughter, who falls into the woman reluctantly – not used to this expression. Marjorie begins to wail while Brooke seems to hold her, her heart breaking. Brooke's eyes are wide and watery as she gazes off into the room – still stunned, unable to register. She locks onto the picture frame on her dresser that says "Best Friends" with an image of Brooke and Peyton looking goofy for the camera.
It is then that she begins to cry.
********************************************************
What's next on S.E. - Brooke, Lucas, Haley, Nathan, Theresa, and Jake all say goodbye to Tim and Peyton.
They drive in silence as Nathan kicks the car in gear and speeds down the coastal road back towards the suburbs. Brooke grips Lucas' hand tightly, her breathing shallow – her eyes closed.
Lucas stares blindly outside the car window – there are flecks of sunrise appearing slowly on the horizon, a pastel of orange and soft purple colors. Somewhere further beyond a symphony of frogs croak, with crickets chirping in the background.
Haley James hides her face in an image of composure – embodying calm under pressure. Inside she's nervous, regretful at the fact that she barely knew either Tim or Peyton. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, her hands clenched into fists.
Nathan gazes intently at the street before him – scared at the prospect of what he may find as he turns the bend in the road. He's masked all of his emotions in a façade of arrogance, self-righteousness, and superiority. But now he just feels like a blubbering baby.
Brooke opens her eyes, her jaw shaking slightly as she prepares to face her destiny – turn this page in her life – as the car stops at what appears to be a massacre.
A barely-touched 18-wheeler is stopped in the middle of the road, the back- side tipped over with lumber that was being transported spilled out onto the asphalt. The backside protrudes into the grass beyond the pavement.
But what resides further down the road is a sight that Brooke Davis will never forget for the rest of her life. As she steps from the car her heart stops beating, her lungs stop breathing, for only a second.
Because, what little is left of Peyton Sawyer's vintage sports car is overturned and slammed into the stoplight standing like a solitary beacon in the eerie early-morning darkness.
A gathering of ambulances, police cars, and a fire truck clog the small, rural road – the same road, Haley James realizes that a drugged Brooke, Peyton, and herself traveled down the first time she ever really bonded with Peyton Sawyer.
Brooke begins to shake as she manages to place one foot in front of the other. She walks forward, against her better judgment, but blinded by her desire to know what was going on.
The phone call Haley received had said that Peyton Sawyer had been involved in a serious car accident – this number had been given to the officer making the call by a wounded Peyton so he obliged.
"Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask that you step aside," a tall policewoman says gently, reaching out to Brooke.
"No – my friend... Oh my God, Peyton!" Brooke whispers dryly, sucking in a gasp of air as her hands cover her mouth.
"The girl – oh." The woman realizes who these kids are, and gathers her thoughts. "She's been life-flighted off to the emergency room. A very serious accident took place here about forty-five minutes ago," the woman answers. Brooke falls to her knees, sobbing.
"What about Tim – the other passenger," Nathan Scott manages to inquire hoarsely.
It is then that Brooke sees through her tears to the wreckage, beyond the totaled car, to a hysterical Shari Smith – heaving into her barrel-chested husbands shoulder, as a young paramedic delivers news that no one should ever have to hear.
"I'm so sorry – the paramedics weren't able to save him." The woman stops, obviously realizing the close friendship all of those gathered here had with the victims. "We think he was dead on impact. I'm so sorry. There's someone here that you can talk to if you like," the woman drones on. But no one else is listening.
Nathan draws Haley to him. Her face is strong – her jaw stubbornly set firm; she won't allow herself to give into her emotions, her desire to sob.
Brooke, on the other hand, wails on her knees, the hard concrete digging into her skin. Lucas gathers her close to him, letting her heave into his chest. He catches a glimpse of Shari Smith again and can't bear to look any longer.
Brooke pulls away and looks up at him, her large eyes wet and glistening as water pours down her cheeks. Her hands grasp his face tightly. "Lucas – I cannot lose her. She can't die Lucas, she can't die!" Brooke cries as he pulls her against him again, this time to keep her from seeing the tears that he begins to shed.
**********
She never saw the truck coming down the road until it was too late – perhaps because of the passenger she had to carry or because of her sleepiness. But by the time she did, little could be done.
It was estimated that Peyton Sawyer managed to swerve to her left where the 18-wheeler slammed into the passenger side, probably killing Tim Smith instantly. The vehicle then flipped once, twice, three times, landing roughly fifteen yards from the stopped truck.
The driver immediately exited his vehicle and ran to the overturned sports car. There he managed to remove an extremely bloodied Peyton Sawyer from the vehicle – apparently from a gaping wound in her side and one in her forehead.
The driver placed Peyton on the street, ripping off pieces of his clothing to use as a makeshift tourniquet. However, the whole right side of the vehicle was smashed, and he was unable to remove the seemingly unconscious male passenger from the car.
Rushing back to his vehicle, the driver dialed 911 and the paramedics arrived roughly six minutes later. By then, Tim Smith was dead, and Peyton Sawyer was barely hanging. She provided them the only number she managed to remember off of the top of her head – her best friend, Brooke Davis' cell phone number. She was then immediately life-flighted to the hospital in Chapel Hill. Information regarding the girl's father was uncovered and telephone calls were made to inform him of his daughter's condition.
**********
Her broken chest rises and falls slowly – her once-vibrant golden curls hanging limply around her heavily-bandaged face.
Nathan Scott can't bear to cry in public.
Call it pride or just plain embarrassment; he has a problem shedding tears. But here – alone in this cold, dimly-light hospital room, Nathan wears his heart out on his sleeve.
He apologizes for every wrong he ever committed towards Peyton Sawyer – every mistake he made in regards to what she did. He knows now that she deserved the best, everything he couldn't give to her back then.
But he tells her he's better now – like a recovering alcoholic. She was right – Haley was just what he needed. He thanks her for teaching him to love, no matter how hard it was for him to show it.
He's already lost his best friend – he doesn't want to say goodbye to another. Haley kisses his forehead and allows him to cry into her breast as she gazes towards Peyton, tears in her eyes. She prays for the friendship she was just beginning to know.
**********
Jake Jagielski carries the one woman he will always love in his arms as he sits next to a comatose Peyton Sawyer. He stares at her longingly – sadly. He blames himself for what happened: Tim's death, the accident, and Peyton. Why couldn't he have just stayed a little longer?
"Take a look at the woman I want you to be, Jenny-baby," Jake says sadly as he holds the baby up to see the blonde. Jake leans down and kisses Peyton softly on her bandaged cheek.
**********
Brooke sits down in the chair slowly, biting her lower lip. Her eyes dart alongside Peyton's body – taking in the visual image of her best friend hanging on for her life. Her stomach churns and her hands shake as she pulls the chair up beside the blonde. She touches the cold steel of the bedside.
She's stable – the doctors say – in a coma, but stable. The rest is up to God.
Brooke breathes slowly as her hand finds Peyton's. It's cold, clammy, devoid of all warmth.
She stares at her friend, inhaling deeply as her eyes begin to well up. There are many flowers arranged about the room. News of what happened only hours before has obviously traveled fast.
"Looks like you're pretty popular," Brooke muses, smiling softly. "You even got roses, from Jake. And I always thought he was cheap...not to mention gay." She remembers how Peyton always rolled her eyes whenever Brooke commented on Jake's sexuality.
You're such a dumbass, Brooke, she'd say.
"Peyton – you have to wake up," Brooke says slowly, begging. "I need you to wake up." She begins to cry, and lowers her head – sobbing into the soft linen of the bed, her hands holding Peyton's. When she manages to regain her composure, she looks up at her friend again. She takes a deep breath, gathering her nerve, and continues.
"Your dad's coming back from overseas. He was in Indonesia this time. Which is near Australia. Which is where all those hot surfer boys are! Remember Peyton? Remember how we'd always say that one day we'd pull an Anna Nicole and go knock up some rich dude and steal his money and run off to Australia? And have hot, passionate sex on a surfboard with some gorgeous guy? With long blonde hair? Remember?"
The silence lingers on as Brooke strokes her friend's hand. "Why didn't you tell me you were leaving, Peyton? I would have come with you. Or we could have called Tim's mom. Why did you have to leave, Peyton?" More tears fall as Brooke closes her eyes, her breathing uneven.
"You shouldn't be here, Peyton. You hate hospitals, ever since your mom. You should be out with me. We could go party again – hang out – rent those Tom Cruise movies and watch them till five in the morning! Anywhere but here. So just wake up. Wake up and come back to all of us."
The door opens slowly and a light illuminates the small room. Lucas stands there, his head tilted as he sees Brooke leaning over her friend. He's so overcome with the scene that a tear escapes from his eye as he slowly walks forward.
"How is she?"
Brooke jumps at the sound of his voice.
"She's – still in a coma."
Lucas sits next to Brooke, his hand covering hers and Peyton's.
"I want her to wake up, Lucas."
"Me too – I need to tell her so many things."
Brooke looks away from him and back to Peyton, her heart sinking.
"Why did this have to be so awkward, Brooke? I mean – the three of us. I just wish there was an easier solution to everything."
"We make our choices, I guess. And we can't live life with regrets."
They stop talking for a long time – only staring as Brooke leans her head against Lucas' shoulder. They cry together, as the life they knew only days before begins to crumble down...
They offer silent prayers to the one who holds Peyton's life by a thread.
**********
Brooke tosses and turns in her sleep as her door creaks open slowly. Light from the hallway enters the dark room, shining brightly on Brooke's sleeping face.
She darts up, drawing in breath quickly. Marjorie opens the door completely. Brooke barely recognizes her – what without her makeup...and the stream of tears falling down her cheeks.
"Mom...? Mom, what's wrong?"
"Honey?" Marjorie Davis says slowly as she walks into the room and sits on Brooke's bed. It's four in the morning. "I just got a call from the hospital."
"Oh no," Brooke says slowly, interrupting her mother.
Marjorie nods sadly, gulping. "Peyton's...died. Baby, I am so sorry."
Brooke sits up, stunned. Her throat catches and she turns to her mother and stares dumbly at her. Marjorie embraces her daughter, who falls into the woman reluctantly – not used to this expression. Marjorie begins to wail while Brooke seems to hold her, her heart breaking. Brooke's eyes are wide and watery as she gazes off into the room – still stunned, unable to register. She locks onto the picture frame on her dresser that says "Best Friends" with an image of Brooke and Peyton looking goofy for the camera.
It is then that she begins to cry.
********************************************************
What's next on S.E. - Brooke, Lucas, Haley, Nathan, Theresa, and Jake all say goodbye to Tim and Peyton.