SEVENTEEN
And so the sun rose, flaming sphere in a cloudless sky.
Sheltered under a green patchwork shade that sighed with the coming wind. Speckles of golden light peeped through the foliage, playing like minnows about their feet.
With a sigh of relief, the broadest traveler pulled himself up the last few yards. Grabbing at branches, hand over hand, to the top of the incline.
Below him, the boys were tiny figures straggling in an untidy line.
Dan bent to catch his wind, ragged breaths of sultry air. He loosed the packs pressing into his skin, rubbing back circulation. Hard eyes swept over his two sons, climbing wearily but carefree, no heavy bags to shoulder. Lucas looked none the worse for the loss of his shirt. Sweat traced it's way down Dan's skin, prickling as distastefully as the panorama bringing up the rear.
There was no way to alienate the Scott Boys now. No way in hell their father could sever the easy camaraderie exhibited below. They were thrown together in an abnormal situation, and, naturally, they'd clung to each other. Because they had too much of their mothers in them. Dan couldn't expect Nate to remain independent...capable, as he was.
Light splashed off the pale hair below. Lucas. Even now, drawing Dan's attention, just by his very difference. Dan had expected his other son, Karen's son-to have jet black hair, maybe eyes like his own. Not Dan's eyes framed in the wide eyed innocence of Karen Roe.
He recalled, here in the whispering trees, the first time he'd ever seen his son. Karen's. Maybe not the very first-but the only sighting that remained etched in his memory as that.
School had started; it was day one for Nate, his grand entrance into kindergarten. Deb hated to be away, but naturally Dan insisted too many cooks would spoil the soup.
There hadn't been a thing to worry about. The local kids had attended Nathan's last birthday party, a spectacular affair with lavish gifts and party favors to burn. They clustered around him, lord of the playground. Nate smiled happily, just a touch of arrogant pride. Enough to assure him a seat on the ride to popularity.
Dan watched, lingering to savor the moment. The Scott Legacy. His legacy.
Out of the group, standing just off to one side, a little blond boy surveyed the others. His very manner struck Dan; loner was stamped across him in indelible ink . When the kids ran off to play, laughing and shouting, he just stood and watched them. Not scared. Just content to be alone.
Dan wondered idly if the boy was new in town; he'd never noticed him at any gatherings. As he pulled away, throwing the car into second, the kindergarten teacher waved a greeting before calling to the little blond.
"Lucas Scott!"
The rest of her sentence was completely lost to him. Dan gripped the steering wheel hard enough to leave a mark.
Scott?
This was Tree Hill. How many people- he cast a flustered glance back-Nathan's age. Nathan's age. They were starting school together.
The thought hit him with the force of a blow. That was his son. That little boy was his and Karen's.
It didn't take more than an hour to reason out: he'd chosen not to accept the child. That boy was no more his than Deb's. He was Karen's, and hers alone.
And so he resolved to put it out of his mind, which he did.
Dan still couldn't explain away the times he picked up Nathan whenever business was slow at the dealer's. Glancing over the clusters of children, trying to pick out a face.
He didn't try to.
Everyone had secrets.:
Finally. Lucas struggled up, over the ledge of earth. He lent down, sucking in air, hands planted on his knees. Surprisingly, he was first to mount the veritable mountain.
Intent on recovering, he failed to notice Dan's less than surly perusal.
Luke didn't even bother looking upward. The sweat beaded along his cheekbones, molding the fine hair to his face. So light. So very different.
Dan's fingers brushed his arm; Lucas jerked back.
How those eyes could change. Dan reluctantly watched the openness dissolve into hooded distrust. He was tempted to shake Luke.
I'm not so bad. Can't you see? I don't know how to tell you. I-don't know any other way. Don't know how to be different.
Instead, stiffly, "Here's your shirt."
"I don't need it." Lucas waived it away, placing his back directly into his father's line of vision.
"Take it."
The elder Scott fumbled with his pack, proffering a water bottle.
Surprised, Lucas met him half way, fingers touching. He tried to hide his confusion, afraid it wasn't good enough with the way Dan was staring at him. Right through his skin, into his mind.
"Take a drink."
Succumbing to the warm reassurance in his dad's tone, Luke gingerly clutched the container, edging away. He had no idea what was coming next. And in Dan's world, usually nothing good.
"How are the ribs?"
Lucas almost choked on the tepid water. He caught himself.
"Fine."
"You should probably have me take a look sometime."
Luke watched him uncertainly. Like Dan was a great black spider spinning a web around him.
"Did you ever miss me?"
The next question came out of no where. Luke was staring at a tiny snail inching it's way along the trail; the water hit the ground, spattering it with raindrops.
"What are you doing?"
Nathan burst up, Jake at his heels.
Luke shifted, stammering.
"Uh-didn't -sorry-"
He belatedly rescued the bottle, but with hands that weren't quite steady. Nate grabbed the water from him, battling disbelief.
Lucas was refusing to meet Dan's eyes, looking everywhere but at him, and Dan had been watching his blond son with an expression that confused Nathan.: