"Brooke", Deb said surprised as she entered her place of business mid afternoon. "I didn't expect to see you here."

Brooke shrugged.

"I'm on the schedule, last I checked. Is it okay if I still work?"

"Oh of course, honey. Um, is everything okay?"

"No", Brooke stated truthfully. "But I'm trying to get through this. Somehow. I don't know. It's rough. I have so many decisions ahead of me to make."

Deb nodded.

"You're still here, what does that mean?"

"I don't know."

"Is Killian still in town?"

"Yeah. Um, so is Peyton as far as I know although she isn't really talking to me much these days."

"How do you feel about all that?"

"I don't know, Deb. Yeah, that sounds really lame but it's the truth. I don't know anything anymore."

Brooke's voice trailed off and Deb knew when to take a hint.

"Okay, hon. Let me know if you need anything and just remember my doors both here and at home are always open to you."

Brooke smiled as the two women shared a warm hug.

"Thanks, Deb. I mean that. You're such a good friend and just being able to work here and keep busy, well…it really helps. Thanks."

The front doors swung open and the attached motion bell rang to let them know guests had entered the establishment. Deb, with a wink, tossed Brooke her apron.

"Well, here's your chance to keep plenty busy. Looks like we've got more customers."

Brooke grabbed menus and silverware.

"Excuse me. Miss, may I have a coffee refill?" a customer previously seated asked Brooke before she had a chance to greet the new table.

She set down the items in hand on an empty table behind her and grabbed the brewing decaf kettle.

"Here you go, sir", she poured it with a smile. "Anything else I can do for you?"

He shook his head and to make for more room, Brooke cleared his dirty dishes. However her movements were halted by the sound of a shrill scream. It came from the direction of the table that had just been set and Brooke cringed. She'd recognize that high pitch anywhere.

"Oh no! Oh God! Brooke! Brookie, is that you?"

"Bevin?"

Bevin Farthing, a pretty, petite girl with animated eyes and a mile wide smile. The girl with the stylish cut light brown hair who never left the house unless covered in make up and dressed head to toe in the season's latest designs. She had grown up in Rhode Island with Brooke Davis. Their parents belonged to the same elite organizations and the girls had attended the same schools, they had cheered together, been presented at the same balls, and competed in the same pageants. Skipping the regular nine to five gig, Brooke's sorority sister had gone straight to the New York and made a big name for herself in the lucrative world of modeling high fashion.

"I didn't want to believe it. Killian tried to warn me. Oh this is dreadful! You poor dear! Just look at you. And your hair? Oh! What in the world did these mean old country bumpkins do to you?"

"Bev, stop it", Brooke pulled away. "I'm fine."

"Fine? Far from it! Look at you! You look an absolute fright! And this place? I can't believe you actually work here. Food service is so…is so…so…gross!"

Brooke rolled her eyes.

"Hello, Bevin, it's nice to see you again, too. How are you? Really? That's good to hear. Me? I'm just swell, thanks for asking. Oh and welcome to North Carolina and Tree Hill and Deb's Den, home of the Wednesday night dollar beer night and the chili mushroom cheeseburger. And yes, I do work here and I make an honest, decent, well earned, not so gross living."

"Brooke!"

"Bevin, you are totally making a scene. Please sit down. Give me a sec and I'll be right with you."

"Right with me? Okay, first of all, I am so not eating here. That's just creepy. Second of all, how can you say to me, Bevin, one of your very bestest friends in the whole wide world, after you disappeared and I've spent the last few months searching everywhere for you! What is going on, Brooke?"

Bevin was getting louder and more hysterical by the second.

"Okay, okay", Brooke pulled her into the booth. "Look, I was gonna call you…"

"When?"

"Bev…"

"Oh never mind. I don't want to fight with you. We all make mistakes. It's going to be okay. There is a limo waiting out front to take us to the airport right away. We'll go home, get you cleaned up, get you to a salon for God's sake and just forget all about this unfortunate little incident."

"Bevin, wait. Look, I'm not sure when I'm going home…or even if I'm going home."

"What?"

"You heard me. Listen, Bevin, you're my friend and I love you. I know I hurt you along with a lot of other people and for that I'm very sorry. I have a lot of explaining to do but that still doesn't give you the right to just barge in here like this and tell me what to do."

"But Brookie!" Bevin stamped her small foot. "Why are you acting this way?"

Brooke sighed.

"I've changed, Bev. Everything has changed. I know you might not understand that but so much has happened since I left. I ran away because I couldn't take it anymore. I just hopped the first Greyhound…"

"Iiiieeeww!"

"What?"

Bevin's whole body shuddered.

"Did you just say you took the Greyhound? Oh God, I cannot believe you actually set foot on a bus. That gives me the heebie jeebies."

Brooke rolled her eyes. She loved Bevin to death but it was moments like that that made her question how she could ever be friends with someone like that in the first place? But then it hit her. Brooke was quickly reminded that she used to be just like Bevin.

"Anyways, I got on a bus and ended up here. I was scared and it was confusing and of course I had no idea what the hell I was doing but things just kind of fell into place. And now…well, now I'm happy, Bevin. I have this job and friends…"

"Hel-lo! I feel like I'm on an episode of the freaking Twilight Zone. Are you not hearing yourself? You only totally had like the best life ever. I mean, you're so beautiful and fabulous and so were all your friends, most especially me. You were happy then. And you had a kick ass career that was one day gonna see you as the chief editor of Vogue or Cosmo or Elle, not the head cook at some greasy burger and beer joint."

"Bevin…"

"Don't Bevin me. This is horrible and you know it. I still can't get over you actually touching people's half eaten bagels. Yucky!"

"Bev…"

"Listen to me, Brookie…"

Brooke balled up her fist and slammed it hard against the table.

"Don't call me that! Dammitt! Brookie is so annoying! My name is Brooke."

Bevin looked hurt and horrified.

"But you always liked it when I called you that before", she pouted.

"Well, that was before, Bevin. I hated it then and guess what? I still hate it now."

"Fine…Brooke. I guess we all get bored with our lives no matter how glamorous they are. Maybe from time to time we all want change. Now normal people spend a week on the Aspen slopes or sunning on Diddy's private yacht in St. Tropez but for whatever reason, you chose Forest Hill."

"It's Tree Hill, Bevin."

"Same thing. Look, if you wanted a vacation and a chance to be someone else, you should have gathered up the girls and partied in Vegas for a couple of weeks. But eve then, we'd have to come back home to our regular lives eventually. Brooke, you can't pretend forever and face it, this little pathetic game has gone on far too long. Let's go home, babe."

Bevin extended her hand but Brooke shook her head.

"No. I can't, Bev. I'm sorry. It's just not that easy. I haven't even decided yet whether or not I'm going back."

Bevin put on her sunglasses.

"Brooke, you can't do this. You, you have to come with me."

"No."

"You don't understand. I didn't come here alone."

"Killian?"

"No."

"Pey?"

"No."

"Who then?"

Bevin cringed.

"Kind of, sort of like your parents."

Brooke stood so fast that she nearly tipped over the table.

"What? Mom and Dad are here? My mom and dad? In Tree Hill? Goddammitt, Bevin! How could you?"

"Like I could stop them. Like anyone could stop them. They were so thrilled to find out you were actually alive and the minute they found out you were here, they were on the first flight to North Carolina, although like everyone else, they were rather sad and disappointed to know what you were up to."

Brooke closed her eyes. The prospect of facing her father and mother was even more difficult than seeing Killian. What would she say? What would they say? Brooke wanted to throw up. It was too much, too soon…way too hard.

"Bevin, I can't! I can't see them! Please. Just…just get rid of them."

"How?"

"I don't know and I don't care, just do it!"

"Brooke, you know I can't do that."

Brooke fought back tears.

"Then I'm leaving."

"What? You can't just leave."

"Watch me."

"Brooke…"

"This is very wrong. Why would you bring them here to ambush me?"

"I can't believe you. Henry and Linda love you so much and all they've been talking about is seeing their only child. They came all this way. I can't believe you don't want to see them. Don't you miss them? Don't you care?"

Brooke lost her battle as the tears fell freely.

"Of course I miss them and of course I care. I do want to see them, just not here or now. Bevin, I have to do this on my own terms. I need to be prepared. You just showed up and so did Peyton and so did Killian. I can't take that again. Not with them."

Now it was Brooke's turn to get hysterical.

"Okay, okay, Brookie…I mean, Brooke. Sorry. Anyway, don't get all Naomi Campbell on me. I'll go outside and try to stall them or something."

Brooke put her head in her hands and wept. Deb had heard the commotion and had been watching from a safe distance but seeing Brooke in such an emotionally vulnerable and fragile state instantly brought out the fiercely protective Mama Bear inside her.

"Excuse me, young lady, I'm afraid I am going to have to ask you to leave. Please. Obviously Brooke is very upset right now and I don't think it's a good idea if you keep trying to talk to her."

"Brooke", Bevin turned to her.

Brooke did not answer as she buried her crying face into Deb's shoulder. Bevin nodded knowingly and turned to leave but the door opened before she could. A tall, lanky man with a handsome face and slightly graying dark hair walked in. He was dressed in a nice suit.

"Bevin, where is she? Is she here? What on earth is taking so long?"

"Henry…"

Brooke froze before looking up.

"Daddy?" she practically whimpered.

The man's eyes melted along with his heart. There she was. There was his beloved little girl. She stood to run to his safe, waiting arms but the doors opened yet again. Brooke stopped dead in her tracks.

"Well, well", said the dark haired woman with the Botoxed face and the fancy nose job. "If it isn't my daughter, the fugitive."