She Don't Dream for Me
By: caramelo
I do not own One Tree Hill or anything related to it.
Story Notes: Last night, I had basically the entire chapter written out, and when I went to finish it this morning, for whatever reason, the disk it was saved on stopped working. I know, I'm an idiot for not having a back-up. Anyway, I'm basically just advertising this program I found called PC Inspector File Recovery. Just type that into Google, and you should get the website. It's this freeware (yeah, free!) that basically recovers any files off of a defective disk. Seriously, it found everything. It pretty much saved me because my second, half-hearted attempt to write this chapter was, to put it nicely, crap. HOWEVER, keep in mind that I've only had this downloaded on my computer for less than a day. I don't know if it downloaded anything I didn't want (viruses, spyware, etc.) yet. Hopefully not. If I hear anything, I'll take this note down immediately.
Chapter Twenty: Merciless You
Brooke wasn't sure which was harder upon first arriving at the clinic: walking past the line of protesters or scrawling her name on the sign-in sheet.
The protesters had been merciless. They had screamed to her about the evils of abortion. They had pleaded with her not to kill her baby. They had cried over the child that would never have a chance to experience life. They had even gone so far as to insist that she had other options.
Those bastards. What the hell did they know?
Brooke had steeled herself against their onslaught. She had walked in a perfectly straight, unhesitating line right up to the front entrance of the clinic. She hadn't spared them a glance, a moment of her time. She simply threw open the door unapologetically and took a bold step inside. When the door clicked shut behind her, she slumped back against it and shut her eyes.
Those cold, ruthless bastards.
But that was only the beginning of it.
"Miss?" a tremulous voice said. "Excuse me, miss?"
Brooke cracked open an eye. Upon seeing the receptionist, she pushed herself off the door in a herry and stood up straight. "Yeah?" she said.
"You'll have to sign in, please."
Brooke nodded. Of course. Completely reasonable. Almost everything required some kind of signature. Brooke couldn't count how many times she had had to jot down her name on something this week. She walked across the room and picked up the cheap black pen.
Brooke had to sign her name on everything. Schoolwork, permission forms, birthday cards…so why did it make her feel sick to her stomach this time?
Brooke swallowed. She was being ridiculous. She had worked hard to get to this point. This was what she wanted.
She lowered the pen onto the glaring white paper. Painstakingly, she curved the pen in to a B and then proceeded onto the sharp R and then…her fingers trembled. Brooke frowned at the jagged line that jutted out from the end of the letter.
It looks so wrong.
Brooke wasn't sure whether she was thinking about the incongruous line or the other two perfectly legible letters of her name on that particular piece of paper.
The line, she decided hastily. It had to be the line.
It was around this time that she noticed the receptionist staring at her curiously. Brooke flushed with embarrassment. She must have looked ridiculous, like she didn't even know how to write her own name. She drew a thick curve over her mistake and quickly dipped into the second O. The rest of the letters followed in an agonizing, forceful rush. She dropped the offensive pen immediately after, and it fell back onto the clipboard with a clatter, striking another mark through her name. Brooke's eyes fixated on the strike and wondered if it didn't mean something.
"All right," the woman said. Brooke tore her eyes away from the paper. "I'm going to need your…"
"I've got it," Brooke cut her off quickly, thrusting forward everything she had been instructed to bring.
The receptionist blinked. "Thank you," she replied tactfully.
Another woman came through a set of doors off to the right not long afterwards. "Brooke Davis?" she said.
"Right here," Brooke stood up. The woman smiled pleasantly and beckoned for her to follow. Brooke grimaced. She felt frozen.
One step at a time…
She didn't know how she managed it, but Brooke soon found herself sitting in a very sterile, cold room, reminiscent of one at a doctor's office. The woman smiled at her again. "I'm Dr. Andrews. We're going to have to run a few tests and perform a physical exam before we get started on anything else. It shouldn't take too long."
"That's fine," Brooke said. Her throat was dry.
"I'm going to need you to change into this. I'll step outside for a few minutes."
Brooke nodded wordlessly and took the flimsy paper gown Dr. Andrews offered her. As promised, the woman slipped out of the room and shut the door behind her. Brooke stared hard at the garment in her hands and bit her lip. She hesitated before shrugging off her jacket.
A few minutes later, Brooke cracked open the door. "I'm ready now."
Dr. Andrews smiled, and Brooke wanted to tell her to stop. She felt scared, and unsure, and absolutely humiliated standing there in nothing but a thin hospital-issue gown. She might as well have been naked.
Brooke shuddered as Dr. Andrews took a step towards her, holding up a stethoscope.
It was then her mind went on auto-pilot. It was the only way she could get through it all.
Robotically, she stuck out her tongue when instructed, leaned back when instructed, and breathed when instructed. She flinched when cold metal touched her skin but made no other protest. She answered familiar questions with generic answers. Three-quarters of an hour later, Dr. Andrews excused herself, and Brooke was left in the room alone.
This was dangerous, she decided after five minutes had passed. Being alone allowed for unwelcome thoughts to stream across her mind, and she might do something rash if there wasn't somebody there to stop her. Her eyes caught the glittering metal of the door handle. Her stomach clenched along with her fist. She sat up.
The doctor breezed back into the room. The flame that had ignited inside her instantly blew out.
"Everything looks okay, Brooke. You're all set. Follow me, please."
Dr. Andrews must have read something in the tense silence that weighed upon the pair as Brooke trailed her down the hall.
"Brooke," she said kindly, "I know you must be sick of hearing this, but I have to ask, are you sure this is what you really want?"
Brooke met her gaze unfeelingly. "It's what I have to do."
Sympathy flashed across the doctor's face. After a moment, she nodded and resumed walking.
Brooke was led into a room much worse than the one before. Gleaming, threatening tools litter it, ones she knew would haunt her later. Machines stood in corners. A bed was in the middle. A strange contraption hung above the bed. Brooke squinted. It looked almost like stirrups.
Goosebumps rippled across her skin. She tasted bile in her throat.
"Vacuum aspiration is the safest, most common procedure for abortions," Dr. Andrews said. "Of course, you can pick another if you'd like."
"The safest?" Brooke repeated in a small voice.
"Usually the fastest too. About ten minutes," Dr. Andrews said.
Brooke looked away. Of course. For the first time she wished she hadn't done her research.
This traditional 1st trimester abortion involves three main steps, the website had said, (1) an injection to numb the cervix, (2) insertion of a soft flexible tube through the cervix into the uterus, (3) suction created by a manual aspirator (hand held syringe) or an aspirating machine to remove the uterine contents.
"Are you okay, Brooke?"
"I'm fine," Brooke said. "The procedure…it's fine too."
"All right," Dr. Andrews said. "I'll send in Dr. Jones. She'll be your abortionist."
"Wait," Brooke said, "you mean…you won't be doing it?"
Dr. Andrews shook her head slowly, confused. "I'm sorry. I thought you knew."
Brooke frowned. How was she supposed to know? "It doesn't matter," she said. "Just send her in."
Dr. Andrews' replacement was a cold woman who didn't say much. She didn't even introduce herself. "I need you to lie down on that bed," was her means of greeting.
Brooke braced herself and eased onto the bed. It was the kind with no pillows or sheets or even a mattress. Just a long gray cushion with a thick strip of paper running down the length of it.
"Put your legs through these holes," Dr. Jones said, tapping on the contraption Brooke had been eyeing earlier.
So that's what it's for. Brooke swallowed any vestiges of her pride that she might have had left and complied.
"Do you have a ride home?" the doctor asked. In the circumstances, it seemed like a very random question.
"No," Brooke said. "Why?"
"Normally, we administer a mild sedative. Is there anyone you can call?"
Brooke shook her head.
The doctor sighed. "The sedative isn't necessary. I'll be numbing the cervix regardless. You will feel some discomfort during the procedure though."
"It's fine," Brooke said. Everything's fine, she thought bitterly. Fine, fine, fine.
"Are you ready?"
Brooke couldn't hesitate on this. She couldn't. Otherwise…
"No," she said.
"Pardon?" Dr. Jones lifted a brow.
Brooke's eyes widened in horror. "No, no!" she said anxiously. "I didn't mean that. I…I'm ready. Just do it fast, okay? Please? I'm ready."
"Are you sure?"
"Ready," Brooke repeated firmly.
There was a sudden sting in her abdomen.
An injection to numb the cervix…
Brooke saw an object in the doctor's hands that looked out-of-place even here. It was blue and bent in her grasp and…
Insertion of a soft flexible tube through the cervix into the uterus…
Brooke forced herself to stop thinking. She stared up at the ceiling, counting whatever there was to count and determinedly not looking down. She heard a soft whirring and was forced to shut her eyes.
Suction created by a manual aspirator (hand held syringe) or an aspirating machine to remove the uterine contents…
Stop it, she screamed internally. Stop it! Stop it! Stop thinking!
The ache evolved from discomfort to actual pain. Brooke was fighting hard to hold back her tears.
And then it was over.
Sometime later, Brooke sat in the Recovery Room, as Dr. Andrews had called it. Someone had been there earlier to 'counsel' her, but after a few questions Brooke had felt dizzy. She had requested to be alone.
She was back in her own clothes now in a fairly normal room with no medical instruments or machines, but what she felt was far from relief.
What had she expected? That everything would go back to fucking normal? That she would be the same girl she had been before? Before the pregnancy, before everything?
Yeah, Brooke thought shamefully, staring down at the floor. Deep down, that had been exactly what she had though. Or been hoping for. Whatever.
But right now, all Brooke felt was guilt. And grief. And shame, of course. Lots of shame. She thought the protesters had been merciless before. Now, she knew better.
You're the merciless one.
She was so alone.
She remembered the girl she had seen outside this same clinic not long ago. She remembered the raw expression of fear and loneliness on the girl's face.
Brook could finally empathize. She was that girl now.
Fingers rapped on the door. "Brooke?" Dr. Andrews muffled voice said through the door.
Brooke wiped at her watery eyes and sat up straight. "Come in," she said.
"Are you okay?"
Brooke didn't answer. She didn't have the energy left in her to lie anymore.
"I want to go home now," she said.
"That's fine," Dr. Andrews said gently. "The receptionist has all the papers you need. Remember the instructions you were given. Take it easy for a couple weeks."
"I will," Brooke said. "Thank you."
"Take care of yourself, Brooke."
Brooke slowly made her way back out to the reception area. She ached. The counselor had assured her that it was to be expected.
"Here you go," the receptionist said, handing her a few papers. "I just need you to sign here one more time."
Signing her name didn't seem to carry any particular weight this time. It was just one more thing she had to do. She handed the clipboard back to the receptionist. "That's all," the woman said. "You're free to go."
Brooke wanted to cry. This place was horrible, but outside would be even worse.
She didn't want to face it all alone.
The receptionist was staring again. "Sorry," Brooke croaked. She backed away a few steps then turned around to face the door.
Nathan.
He was watching her like he had been the night of Haley's party. That same, damned look. He was there. For her. He opened his mouth to speak. One word. "Brooke."
Brooked looked away. She was crying now.
"How…?" she choked out.
Nathan crossed the room in a few long strides. He wiped a tear away with his thumb. When she didn't protest, he tucked her against him. Brooke shut her eyes and burrowed herself closer against him. More tears stained his shirt.
"Brooke," he whispered again. "I'm sorry. I'm such an idiot."
Brooke gave one hard shake of her head. Not now. "You came," she said in a small voice. "I thought I was going to be alone."
Nathan's hold tightened around her. "No," he said fiercely. "No way."
She didn't know how long they remained this way, but having him there gave her the resolve she need.
"Can you take me home?" she whispered.
"Of course," Nathan answered. "Are you ready?"
"I'm ready," Brooke said, trying not to think about how those same words had been used in a different context not long ago.
Nathan briefly let go of her to hold open the door. The protesters roared.
He glared at them and immediately took hold of her again. She clung onto his shirt desperately. He led her through the crowd, and Brooke knew she'd never be able to make something like this up to him. This was everything to her. It didn't matter that the protesters were still screaming, and crying, and pleading. She felt safe.
Nathan opened the door to his car for her, and this time Brooke didn't make any jokes about him being a gentleman. She only hoisted herself up into the seat, vaguely aware of his hand on the small of her back guiding her, keeping her steady.
By the time, Nathan reached his side of the car, Brooke had fastened her seatbelt and slumped back against the cushion of her seat, staring blankly out the window. He watched her for a few moments before he spoke hesitantly, "I understand if you don't want to talk about it."
She said nothing, and he started the car.
Nathan pulled into Brooke's driveway twenty minutes later, and still no words had been spoken. Nathan looked over at her. She was in the same position as before.
"I'll walk you in."
This seemed to snap Brooke out of her trance. She blinked and glanced around at her surroundings, realizing for the first time that she was home. "You don't have to," she said quietly.
"I know," Nathan said. "Come on."
Nathan not only walked her to her door, but he continued on inside her house as well, even though she hadn't asked him to. He just seemed to know. As a contrast to the car ride over here, he was now filling the air with idle chatter.
"You don't have to worry about your car," Nathan said, knowing that she wasn't. "We can go pick it up tomorrow. Or I'll go with someone else, depending on how you're feeling."
"You can call into school sick tomorrow. I'll pick up your make-up work."
"Or, you know, I might skip too."
They reached the door to her room. Nathan glanced away.
"It's getting kind of late. You must be pretty tired."
Brooke didn't say anything. He took a step away. "I'm sorry. I should go."
Brooke's head shot up. Dread coursed through her. "Actually," she said quickly. He stopped. Brooke took a breath. "Actually," she began again. "I was wondering if you could stay with me. Just for a little while."
He regarded her carefully. "Yeah," he said. "I could do that."
Brooke nodded her thanks. "Just wait here till I change, okay? Then we can go downstairs and watch a movie or something. Don't leave."
Nathan promised that he wouldn't, and Brooke slipped inside her room. A few minutes later, she came back out, clad in pajama pants and a tank top. "Thanks for waiting," she said, obviously relieved to see him still there. "Come on, I can go make some popcorn and put in Never Been Kissed or some equally cheesy movie that you won't want to watch."
"Brooke," Nathan said gently, catching her fingers. "Maybe you should just take a rest. You don't need to entertain me."
Brooke's eyes clouded over, troubled.
"I'll still stay with you," Nathan assured her. "You've got that big chair next in there, right? It's pretty comfortable. I'll pull it up next to your bed. We can talk about anything you want, even if it's only to take your mind off of…that."
Her shoulders slumped. She rubbed at her tired eyes. "That might actually be the best thing."
"Yeah," Nathan said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and leading her into her room.
Brooke attempted a pained smile and climbed into her bed. Nathan pulled over the chair. He had lied. There was nothing particularly comfortable about it. But he barely noticed it.
Brooke's lamp set a soft glow of light over the room. "I could turn it off," Nathan offered.
She shook her head quickly, emphatically. "It's fine the way it is."
"You sure?"
"I want it this way."
"Okay."
They lapsed into silence. Brooke lied flat on her back, staring up at the ceiling. She shut her eyes, and after a few minutes Nathan figured she was drifting off to sleep when she spoke.
"Nathan?"
He sat up straight. "Yeah?"
"How did you know?"
Nathan sighed. He knew exactly what she was referring to. "I talked to Lucas."
"You what?" Brooke's eyes snapped back open, and she twisted around to face him.
"I talked to Lucas," he repeated. "I felt like a huge jerk that day in Mr. Nicholson's class when you stormed out, but I was still pretty angry. So I confronted Lucas after practice." A regretful smile touched his lips. "I asked him what he was thinking, proposing to you. What right did he have after everything he did? Especially when he knew that I…
"He called me an idiot. And a few other things. He asked me where the hell I had gotten the idea that he had proposed to you. So I asked him why you had said you were busy with him that afternoon. He told me it was none of my business, and I was frustrated enough to let it go.
"Then today, after I talked to you, I went after him again at practice. I told him I knew I was wrong yesterday, and I knew there was something bigger going on. I kind of let on that I knew more than I actually did. And, of course, he starts going on about what a huge bastard I am, and how of course he hadn't proposed. You didn't want him that way anymore. In fact, you had been at the court house yesterday getting a judicial waiver, so you wouldn't have to deal with him at all."
Brooke opened her mouth to protest, stung. Nathan read her accurately. "I know he oversimplified it, Brooke. That wasn't the only reason you did it. He was angry."
Brooke stared at some far off point in her room, hard. Nathan reached out and gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze.
"So after he said that, I remembered you had told me you were going to a doctor's appointment and put two and two together. It all just kind of fit, you know? And so I left practice and ended up…there."
Brooke said nothing. More time passed, although neither of them was sure how much. Despite his struggles to stay awake, Nathan felt himself slipping in and out of consciousness until…
"Nathan," Brooke said again.
He forced open his heavy eyelids. "Yeah?"
"I never said…thank you."
"It's nothing," Nathan assured her.
"No," Brooke said seriously. "It's everything. Thank you."
Nathan's gaze locked onto hers. He saw all the guilt and pain in her eyes and wished that he could stamp them out. But he also saw something else. Something that he had only seen in her the night she had stayed over at his apartment. He reached out and ran a finger down her cheek.
"You're welcome, Brooke."
Author's Note: Yeah, I know. She did it. I know this goes against some people's beliefs, and I'm sorry. This fanfiction was always going in that direction. I was afraid while writing it out that it was a little too graphic, but at the same time I didn't want to skip over the most important part of the story, so I tried to keep it tasteful. I hope nobody was too offended by the scene. I wish I had a link to give you guys, but unfortunately I lost track of it. I'll post it later if I find it again. I do know I did get a lot of help from the Planned Parenthood website too. Just rest assured that this chapter was researched just like the rest of them. Let me know what you thought. Special emphasis just for this chapter. Tell me if you think anything should be edited out in the particular scene I was talking about before. Really, guys. Please review!
until next time…
caramelo