A/N: Sorry it took me so long to get this updated, I've been suffering from writers block and there were a lot of issues I wanted to deal with in this chapter to help set up what will occur later. Jake and Haley are not in this chapter, I am putting them on the back burner for now, but they will make an appearance again.I just feel build up for Nathan/Brooke and Peyton/Lucas is crucial at this point. I hope you see the connections between each pairing in this chapter, enjoy. And please review if you read.

Disclaimer: I wish I owned OTH, but I obviously don't.

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Chapter Seven: Family Matters

A shaft of sunlight streamed through the small window of the attic, hitting the particles of dust that crowded the dim space. They appeared to shimmer across the floor, twirling along the hardwood, and dancing through the air. They were suspended in mid air, frozen like the memories that filled the boxes littering the floor. Peyton hesitantly placed her foot in the doorway of the large room, a room she hadn't entered in years. Her boots created a dull thud that lingered in the air for a split second before fading into the silence. She pressed her hand against her racing heart, feeling it pound against her palm. She sucked in a deep breath, letting the dust filled air enter her lungs, her clogged lungs protested, creating a cough that shook through her body. She gripped the wooden doorframe until the dry coughing subsided.

She almost wanted to laugh at how silly this all was. Being scared of the memories that lived in this attic. Pictures and objects she had avoided since her mom had died. She moved away from the doorway. Her eyes fell onto a worn cardboard box that laid a few feet in front of her. Fear gripped her stomach and twisted it into a tight knot. She wanted to turn away, to leave without facing the ghosts that haunted this attic, but her feet felt glued to the wooden floor beneath her. She knew she couldn't leave, not when she had finally gained the courage to do this. She swallowed the salvia that had risen into her dry throat and took another step forward.

The room seemed to spin around her, trying to throw her off balance. She pressed her teeth together and forced down the fear that threatened to consume her weak stomach. She tripped on an imaginary crack in the floor and crashed into the box she had been moving towards. A sharp, invisible object in the box stabbed her between her in the ribs and she winced in pain. She extended her legs out as far as she could and slowly sat up, placing her butt on her outstretched legs. She pressed her right hand to her forehead, trying to ease the spinning sensation that filled her eyes. Sweat dripped down her forehead onto her hand, seeping into her pale skin. She hadn't realized how hot it was up here. She waved her left hand beside her face, creating a slight breeze that cooled the warm skin of her face.

A cloud moved over the sun outside the tiny window, blocking the little sunlight that had filled the room only a few minutes before. The already dim room became even darker and she shivered slightly. She felt foolish, scared of the dark. She hadn't been scared of the dark since her mother had died. After that, nothing scared her. Except this. Her memories of the woman she had barely known. Her heart. Her feelings. The possibility of being left by someone she loved again. She shook her head, why did it always come back to that? Her mother's death was connected to all her fears, fears she was aware of and fears she had yet to face. All her feelings were connected to one moment in time, an instant that changed her life forever. Who would she be if her mother hadn't died? Would she be less afraid to let herself feel something for someone? For Lucas, her heart whispered. She pushed her jumbled thoughts away and focused on the box she had fallen on several minutes before.

She placed her hand on the opening of the now flattened box and let it sit there as a hundred questions flitted through her mind. What would she find inside it? Would it heal some of the wounds that had been cut into her heart or would it only cause them to bleed even more? Would she learn more about the mother she had only known for a short time or would she only ask more questions? Would they bring her closer to figuring out her own life? She took a deep breath, trying to still her rapidly pounding heart. The fear that had filled her stomach as soon as she had considered coming up here rose to her throat, almost choking her. Sweat dripped down her forehead, running down her small nose, and falling onto the box in question. She stared at the splash of moisture for several minutes, trying to clear her mind.

She quickly flipped the box open before she could change her mind. She touched the first thing her eyes rested on, an old Tree Hill cheerleading uniform. She picked it up; causing the dust that had been embedded into the blue fabric to rise into the air. She sneezed when it slid up her nose. "Stupid dust," she muttered to herself and pulled it out of the box with her head turned to the right. She placed the moth eaten uniform onto her lap and ran her fingers over the rough fabric. She could almost remember the way her mother's clothes would scratch against her skin when she'd hug her. She closed her eyes against the tears that threatened to spill from her hazel eyes.

"Peyton, hunny," her mother's voice rose from the darkness of her mind. A sound that she had suppressed for the past decade. She squeezed her eyes even tighter together as a long ago memory filled her quiet mind.

In her mind's eye she could picture her eight-year old self turning her head at the sound of her mother's voice, "Yes, mommy?" her voice was low, full of curiosity.

"Come here," her mother patted her lap and Peyton came automatically and settled onto her lap. Peyton rubbed the fabric of her mother's dress. She always wore dresses, always the perfect lady. Her mother stroked her blonde curls, "What do you want to be when you grow up?"

Without hesitation she said, "You,"

Peyton opened her eyes, letting only one tear trickle down her cheek before pressing the rest of them back. She didn't want to cry over this anymore. She had cried a million tears in the past decade and she refused to let the memory shake her reserve. Her heart felt weighed down onto her ribs, she could barely breathe. She could never be the lady her mother had been. The captain of the cheer squad. Full of light and goodness. Always good for everyone around her, unlike her. She was never good for anyone, she only hurt people. All because her mother left. All because she couldn't stop striving to be who her mother had been. She was competing with a ghost. A ghost that always won.

She vaguely heard the phone ringing downstairs; she jumped up, abandoning the uniform and the memories as she rushed out of the room and down the stairs. She grabbed the phone on the last ring; "Hello?" her voice was raw and emotionless.

"Hey, Peyton, it's Lucas," She didn't bother to respond to his statement, waiting for him to giver her a reason for his calling. "You're coming to the game, right?"

"Yeah I'm coming," normarily the question would have annoyed her, but she was too weary to care.

Lucas took notice of her flat tone, "You okay?"

"I'm fine…."

"You sure?"

"Yes I'm sure," the lie easily escaped her lips.

"Listen, my mom and I need a ride to the game, our car broke down and there's not time to fix it. Could you pick us up in ten minutes?"

"I can pick you up, that's cool….okay, see ya."

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Lucas hung up the phone, a frown marring his somber face. Something was wrong. Her voice had been flat, containing no warmth or emotion. He had wanted to reach out to her, but he knew that she would only open up when she was ready. If that time ever came.

"Who was that?" His mom appeared in the doorway behind him.

"Peyton," he said tonelessly, his head still wrapped around the brief conversation they had just had.

"Yeah?" She raised her black eyebrows and gave him a knowing look. She studied his tense frame, waiting for him to tell her what had been said.

"She said she could give us a ride to the game," he tried to sound indifferent, but his concern seeped into his voice.

"And…?"

"Something's wrong, I just don't know what,"

She nodded silently and after a few minutes said softly, "You really care about this girl, don't you?"

He blushed, he hadn't realized it was so obvious, "Just friends," he shrugged as indifferently as he could muster, repeating the title she had given them.

"That's why you called her instead of Keith," she winked, trying to lighten the mood to no avail. He just stood in the middle of the living room, staring at her blankly. She sighed and walked out of the room.

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Brooke cautiously stepped into her mother's bedroom. The long, red curtains were drawn across the large windows that filled the wall across from the doorway she was standing in. The room was cloaked in darkness; the only thing she could see clearly was the red digital numbers flashing from the clock on the bedside table. The light from the hall was blocked by her petite frame, glowing around her head and falling onto a tiny patch of wood beneath her feet. She moved into the room, causing the light to hit her mother's face briefly before darkness filled the room once again. Her mother groaned and flipped over, her hand hitting the bedside table. "Too early," she mumbled into her pillow, a bottle of pills falling out of her hand.

Brooke slowly approached the bed, making sure not to startle her mother any more than she had. She scrunched her nose up when the scene of vodka hit her nostrils. She heard a rattling sound as her foot hit the open bottle of pills her mother had dropped. She looked down and saw the tiny white capsules scatter across the wood. She felt her heart drop to her knees as a prickle of tears filled her brown eyes. Her mother had promised to stop taking her medication with alcohol; she had begged her a few weeks ago to stop after having to rush her mother to the hospital for the millionth time. It was hard to take care of her all the time, to worry about her.

She sat down on the bed and stroked her mother's face. A face that was wrinkled and worn from years of drug use and alcohol abuse. "Open your eyes," she pleaded, her heart knocking against her ribcage in cold fear. She couldn't leave the house for the game until she knew her mother was okay. Maybe she just passed out, she reassured herself. The thought offered little comfort, but it was better than the multitude of alternatives that flitted through her brain in the matter of five seconds. She stroked her mother's dull brown hair off her forehead before standing up. "I wish things could be different," she whispered into the quiet room, but her words fell on deaf ears. She sighed and pulled the sheet over her mothers back. Even if she could stay there was nothing she could do for her until she came out of her stupor.

It was an uphill battle she fought against her parents. Her father was never home to care and her mother was always home in the physical sense. Her mind was rarely there, living in another time and place. Barely aware of what surrounded her. The daughter that needed someone to love her. Brooke shook her head, ridding herself of the thoughts and feelings that should stay buried. She had realized long ago that her parents would never love her the way they should. Her mother was an alcoholic with severe issues with depression and her father was a cold, distant ass who only cared about himself. It was almost as if she were on her own, making her own choices about the way to live her life. A life she spent away from home as often as possible.

It was moments like these she regretted using popularity and all that it entailed as a way to escape her dismal reality. Drowning herself in parties, clothes, alcohol, and sex to forget for even a moment that her mother was always drugged up and her father didn't care. Some days it hurt more than others, she had learned a long time ago to shrug it off. It was easier that way. Easier than admitting that she was weak, that she could hurt, and bleed just like anyone else. She didn't deal well with emotions. So she only thought of it when she had to, like now.

She leaned down, scooped the scattered pills back into the bottle, and snapped the lid back on. She was going to have to start hiding her mother's medication better. For tonight she'd just take it with her so her mother wouldn't wake up and decide to take more than she was prescribed. She didn't want her night to be ruined by having to rush to the hospital. No tonight she was on a mission, to forget her sorrows by taking comfort in the arms of Nathan Scott. The grin that filled her face was filled with sorrow, an emotion she rarely let herself feel.

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Peyton stood awkwardly on Lucas' front porch. She had been standing there for the past five minutes, trying to calm the nerves that had been eating away her stomach lining. This is ridiculous, she admonished herself, it's not like we're dating or anything. Meeting parents just wasn't her thing. They usually didn't like her because she could never seem to say the right thing. Parents seemed to be serious and opposed to any form of humor. Which ironically was her way of relating to people around her. Just knock, she demanded. Before she could change her mind she quietly knocked on the door in front her. She took a step backwards as the door swung open.

Peyton found herself coming face to face with a short, dark head woman with wide eyes and a kind smile. She smiled and extended her hand, "Hello, you must be Peyton, I'm Karen, Lucas' mom."

Peyton smiled hesitantly, surprised she hadn't gasped upon seeing a cheerleader dressed in dark jeans, a black rock and roll t-shirt, and a short leather jacket. After a few seconds she extended her hand and shook the one that had been offered to her, "Hi, Mrs. Roe."

She laughed, "You can call me Karen, 'Mrs. Roe' makes me sound so old."

Peyton chuckled, "Well, Karen, can I come in or do I have to stand in the doorway all night?" She cringed inwardly at her own words, these kind of cracks were exactly why parents didn't like her.

Karen flashed her a grin, she reminded her of herself at that age. "Excuse my manners, come in," she moved to the side, allowing Peyton to slide by her.

As they walked into the living room, Peyton observed her surroundings. The house was small but tidy. The house felt…warm. Full of love, laughter, and good memories. It made her feel….safe. Something she had never truly felt in her own house. "Nice place," she nodded thoughtfully. Just being here made her feel closer to Lucas, it made her feel uncomfortable and good at the same time. You're such a nerd, she laughed to herself.

"Thanks," Karen smiled.

Say something Peyton. "So…where's Lucas?"

"Getting changed,"

She chuckled, "He's worse than a girl,"

"This is nothing, you should be here when he has to dress up,"

The smile on her face quickly faded as her eyes fell upon a picture of Karen as a cheerleader, reminding her of the questions that had been plaguing her for hours. "Mrs. R—,Karen," she hesitated as her name escaped her lips, she wasn't used to calling adults by their real name. "mind if I ask you something kind of personal?"

"Sure," Karen smiled warmly, finding herself intrigued by the blonde standing in front of her. She indicated the couch and they sat down simultaneously, "go ahead,"

"See the thing is," Peyton stared at her fingernails, focusing on the chipped nail on her right hand, "I don't mean to be blunt or anything, but---" she pressed her lips together, trying to collect the thoughts racing through her mind, "I was just wondering if you knew my—" before she could finish her thought, Lucas entered the room dressed in his basketball shorts and blue tank. She turned her head and smirked, forcing the vulnerability she had been feeling to disappear, "Well look who it is,"

Lucas studied Peyton for a moment, trying to figure out what had been on her mind earlier, but the wall was up now. She wouldn't let him see through it, at least not now. "Hey, Peyton,"

Peyton crinkled her nose up in feigned horror, "You get dressed before you leave the house?" she raised her eyebrows and chuckled, "You're such a girl,"

He looked down, "Hey…it's either this or misplace my clothes again,"

Peyton rolled her eyes, "Is that what you call it when the team steals your clothes?"

"Whatever, Peyt. At least I'm ready for the game unlike you."

"And wear that uniform before I have to? I don't think so."

Karen laughed, "I hated wearing my uniform when I cheered,"

"Plus you look so cool wearing it outside the gym," There was just something about Karen that made her feel at ease. She didn't feel like she had to be someone she wasn't, Karen seemed to accept her as she was.

"Hey!" he smiled, seeing his mom and Peyton interact so naturally made him happier than it should, "This isn't fair, Haley isn't here to back me up,"

"Speaking of Haley, are we picking her up on the way?" Karen asked with raised eyebrows.

"No, she's getting a ride with Jake."

"Jake? Isn't he a friend of yours on the team?"

"Yeah," Lucas walked towards the door, "Are we ready?"

"Of course we are, we spent the last ten minutes waiting on you to brush your hair," A wry laugh emitted from Peyton's throat.

"Funny, Peyt, real funny." His blue eyes twinkled when he turned, their eyes locking for a few minutes before she broke the contact by lowering her eyes.

"I thought so." A faint blush filled her cheeks, for no reason other than the look in his eyes. The want she could see there, a need that terrified her more than she cared to admit. What made it even worse was that she knew his mom was watching them closely.

Karen watched her son and Peyton exchange barbs with a hint of amusement playing on her lips. She touched Peyton's leg lightly, "What did you want to ask?" her voice was low so only Peyton could hear.

"Uh….nothing, it doesn't matter."

"Are you sure?"

Peyton swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat, "Yeah."

"Are you coming or what?" Lucas shouted from the doorway.

"His majesty calls," Peyton's laughter was followed by Karen's as they left the house.

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"Nathan, get in the car," Dan Scott growled.

"Dad, I told you I'm not getting in the car with you," Nathan's said stubbornly.

"You have some nerve, don't you?" Dan shouted, standing by the driver's side of the car, "If it wasn't for me you wouldn't be part of this team. This is the thanks I get." He threw his hands in the air in contempt.

"No, dad, I earned my spot on the team and you know it, you're just jealous that your glory days are over." Nathan walked closer to his dad, pressing his face close to his old man's, "I'm going to beat your score, dad," his voice was low, but full of power. He wasn't going to be bullied around anymore, he owned that court. Him, Nathan Scott, not Dan or the memories of the days of his youth.

"You'll never be as good as I was."

"Was, dad." He took a step back and shrugged, "It's over."

"Fine," Dan opened the door and sat in front of the wheel, "You just better hope and pray you win the game tonight and if you let Lucas and Whitey take that away from you, you'll have to answer to me." He jerked his thumb to his chest before slamming the door shut.

"Goodbye, Dad," He said, not caring that his dad couldn't hear him anymore. It wasn't like that was new anyways. He could stand his ground, but in the end it didn't matter because his dad would never stop trying to control him and his game.

A scowl filled his face as Dan screeched backwards out of the driveway. He had the urge to throw something at the shiny, silver car that his dad had bought last week. To destroy something that meant so much to him, just the way he had ruined basketball for him after he entered High School. He used to live and breathe the game, basking in his personal triumphs and accepting his pitfalls, but now he couldn't make a mistake. Every dribble, every shot, every move he made on the court was watched carefully by cynical eyes. Eyes that expected him to fail. But tonight he wasn't going to fail again…not like he did last week. Tonight the game was his. He owned the team and it was time he enforced it. Maybe his dad would never tell him he was proud, but if he beat him….it would almost feel the same.

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"'Hit me with your best shot….fire away.'" Karen and Peyton sang at the top of their lungs with the windows rolled down and the radio turned all the way up. Lucas groaned and slunk down, glad he wasn't in the front seat. He couldn't believe they were singing. Together. He would expect this from his mom and Haley, but her and Peyton? It was just…strange. At the same time he was glad his mom liked Peyton….but singing? Did they really need to do that? If they wanted to torture him then they had definitely succeeded.

Peyton turned her head slightly and shouted above the music, "Come on Luke, join us."

"Uh…that's okay." He muttered under his breath, knowing she wouldn't hear him.

Karen and Peyton laughed as the song ended and she turned the knob until there was barely any sound. "I haven't done that in years," Karen laughed. "Music isn't like it used to be."

Peyton nodded in agreement, "Music used to really matter to people. Now it's just made to entertain people who really couldn't care less. It must have been awesome to live in the 80's, I would have loved to see Pat in concert, she's my favorite rocker chick."

"I saw her in concert once,"

"No way! What was it like?"

"Unbelievable, I'll never forget it. When she walked on stage the crowd went wild…everyone was screaming and singing. It was fun."

"Why didn't you ever tell me your mom was so cool? Guess you didn't get that from her," Peyton smiled at him in the rearview mirror.

Karen shook her head, "So…how did you two meet?"

"She almost ran me over,"

"Shut up! It isn't my fault you were walking across the street in the middle of the night."

"If you had been looking…"

"You or the music. Tough choice."

"Ouch," Lucas feigned a hurt look.

"And yet you still stalked me, you're an odd one Luke."

Karen laughed, "Where did you two disappear at the basketball party…?"

"Mom!" Lucas exclaimed in horror.

"Just asking…"

"We were just….uhh.." He blushed furiously, trying to play it cool, but failing miserably.

"Uh huh,"

"Yeah….look, we're here," Peyton interjected, glaring at Lucas in the review mirror.

Lucas sighed in relief and a sheepish smile filled his face, "Thanks for the ride Peyt."

"Yes, thank you Peyton, I appreciate it." Karen smiled and opened the door to get out.

"No problem Karen."

"Want to walk in with us?" She said as she shut the door.

"Oh, no, but thanks. My friend Brooke and I usually head in together."

Lucas walked to her side of the car and leaned down, "Thanks."

She lowered her voice, a twinkle filling her hazel eyes, "No problem…hands."

"See ya, legs." He laughed, his heart swelling a bit at their exchanged flirtation. Things were definitely looking up.