She Don't Dream for Me

By: caramelo

I do not own One Tree Hill or anything related to it.

Chapter Twenty-One: Cadence

He was watching her.

She didn't have to open her eyes to see it, she just knew. He was there. Watching her. He had been all night. She had endured a fitful sleep, writhing in her bed, tormented by a dream she knew all too well.

Doctor Karen. Lucas and Peyton. A glass window. Red flashing lights.

And something new. Nathan.

It had been around two o'clock when she first sat up, ramrod straight, in her bed. She had gasped for breath, sweaty and shaking. Her sheets were hopelessly tangled around her. Then, she had been surprised by the dark eyes that stared back at her. She had been close to screaming, but he had clambered out of his chair and onto her bed, taking her into his arms.

"Nathan," she breathed, clutching him close to her.

"Yeah," he said. "You're okay."

She hadn't answered, unable to do much more than tremble in his arms and struggle to compose herself. When she finally did, Nathan crawled back out of her bed.

"You don't have to-" she protested.

Nathan shook his head. "Too soon."

Brooke understood. He wasn't talking about himself, he was talking about her. He knew she wasn't prepared for that kind of intimacy tonight. She was grateful that he had the sense that she seemed to lack in this disoriented state.

The second, third, and fourth times she had woken up, panting, he had been there as well, still watching her, still a breath away to comfort her. And when she calmed enough to be able to think rationally, she wondered how she had gotten so lucky.

"I don't know why you're doing this," she whispered into his shirt. "Nobody else would. After all, it's…me."

"Maybe that's why," he had told her.

She hadn't understood his answer then, and it was still pretty fuzzy to her now. Maybe he had left it that way on purpose, vague and unelaborated. Maybe they weren't ready for clear, simple declarations like I want everything with you or I love you. It didn't matter. At least he was there. His presence made her feel warm, the kind that derived from knowing that somebody cared. It almost overshadowed the guilt that was tearing into her, ravaging her mind with images of bows and basketballs and the thought of what could have been. Almost.

She opened her eyes. Nathan stared back. Her lips curved into bittersweet smile.

"Morning," she said.

"Hey," Nathan replied. His voice was soft. "How're you feeling?"

Her smile visibly tightened. "Sore," she responded truthfully. "I don't think I'm going to school today."

"Definitely not," Nathan said firmly. "But that's not what I was talking about. How are you feeling?"

Brooke dropped her gaze. "I don't think it's really hit me yet," she said.

"Liar," Nathan growled. She looked up in surprise. "I know you better than that, Brooke," he said. "Let me in. Tell me what's going on up there." He gave the side of her head two gentle taps with his index and middle finger.

She sighed. "I don't know if I want to talk about that right now."

"Well, when you're ready…"

"Of course I'll come to you," she cut him off.

He gave her a look. "Promise?"

Her stare fixated determinedly on her bedroom door. "I promise."

Nathan frowned. Her words felt insincere, like a little kid who had her fingers crossed behind her back while she spoke. He wanted to ask for more, but she changed the subject.

"I need a shower."

"You said you were sore," Nathan said.

She shrugged. "I feel kind of off. Showers make me feel better. Besides, you can have a break. Take a nap or something."

"I'm not that tired," Nathan protested.

She lifted her eyebrow in an expression that clearly said, yeah, right. "Well, do whatever then. I'll be out in twenty minutes." She hoisted herself off her bed, allowing Nathan to steady her, but then utterly refused any more help from him as she moved slowly around the room, collecting her clothes and anything else she might need in the bathroom.

"You lie down," she instructed. "Don't say you're not tired. Just do it."

Nathan opened his mouth to argue, but she silenced him with a glare. Reluctantly, he climbed on top of her knotted sheets and leaned back against the pillow as she grabbed a brush from her dresser and looked back at him.

"Don't look so uncomfortable," she said before disappearing behind the bathroom door. "My bed's pretty nice."

He sighed and tried to relax against her mattress. After about five minutes, he was struggling to keep his eyes open, despite his claim about not being tired. Another minute and he was asleep.

Sometime later, he woke up with a start. He glanced at the bathroom door and saw light shining out from the crack beneath it. Brooke was still in there. He tilted the clock to face him and frowned. It had been a little over an hour. What was taking her so long? Then he noticed it was absolutely silent. The shower wasn't running.

"Brooke," he called as he approached the door. "Brooke? Are you okay in there?"

Silence.

Worried lines creased Nathan's forehead. "Brooke," he rapped on the door. "Answer me."

Silence again.

"I'm coming in, Brooke." He twisted the door handle.

"The door's locked," a strained voice said from inside.

Nathan sighed. "Could you unlock it for me?"

Everything went quiet again. "Yeah," Brooke said after a few beats. "Just give me a couple minutes."

"Brooke…"

She didn't respond. Nathan waited patiently beside the doorway as the minutes ticked by, trying to ignore an uneasy panic rising inside of him. When Brooke finally emerged, she was fully dressed and her hair was almost dry, although it was a little curlier than usual. Her skin peeking out from beneath her clothes was pink after being scrubbed a little too hard.

"What happened in there?" Nathan asked.

She shrugged. "I took a shower. I'm still sore, so it took longer than usual."

"You don't have to lie to me," Nathan said quietly.

She met his eyes, and Nathan saw that hers were glittering. "I'm not lying," she said.

He only stared, not bothering to mask his disappointment. She felt her throat constrict painfully. "You've gotta be hungry," she choked out. "Let's get you some breakfast."

Nathan shook his head. "You should be in bed. I'll make something. What do you want?"

Brooke declined. "I'm not very hungry anyway."

"You should eat."

"I'm fine."

The rest of the day continued that pattern. Brooke staunchly refused to broach the topic of yesterday's events, and Nathan tried to give her the time she had requested. Most of the time was spent in a dreary, uncomfortable silence.

Friday, Brooke claimed soreness again, but insisted that Nathan go back to school.

"Whitey will kill you if you miss another practice. And I need you to pick up my work."

"I'm not leaving you, Brooke," Nathan argued.

"I'm not a child, Nathan," Brooke retorted. "I can take care of myself."

"But…"

"No," Brooke said. Her voice turned soft and pleading. "I could really use some time alone, Nathan. I just need to…think."

Nathan felt his resolve breaking at her rounded eyes and bitten lip. "Fine," he said. "But you'll call me if you need me?"

"You'll get your cell phone taken away," Brooke said.

"I don't care," Nathan said. "Call me."

"Yeah, okay," Brooke said.

Nathan walked towards the door. He hesitated before leaving. "Brooke?"

"Yeah?"

"I…never mind. I'll see you later, okay?"

"Yeah. Bye, Nate."

He had come home that evening apprehensive, but she was only taking a shower, one that again ran much longer than the twenty-minute ones she had claimed she took. When she came out and saw him, she put on a brave face and a smile that didn't hit her eyes.

"Thanks," she said as he handed her all the worksheets and notes she had missed. "Come on, let's go downstairs and watch my Desperate Housewives DVDs while I pretend to do these."

"Desperate Housewives?" Nathan groaned.

A small smirk curled on her face. "I'm having a one-sided love affair with Gabrielle."

By Sunday, Brooke had coaxed him out of her house. On Monday, she was back in school. She lacked her usual sass, but otherwise she seemed to be functioning well. Throughout the week, she would come up behind him and link her arm through his, and he would look down to find her smiling.

"Hey, Hot Shot," she would greet him.

Nathan couldn't help but wonder if it wasn't all a charade.

He wanted to come home with her again and stay the night to see what happened in the privacy of her house, but he suspected it wasn't much different than in school. She seemed to have effectively burrowed her feelings in a place that even she couldn't reach.

Thursday afternoon was the first time she was forced to confront them.

"So, Brooke," Theresa asked idly at cheerleading practice. "When can we throw the baby shower?"

"What?" Brooke asked.

"Well, you cheated us out of the bachelorette thing, but we've got to do something. There hasn't been a good party in a while."

"I don't need a baby shower," Brooke mumbled.

"Oh, come on," Theresa said. "Don't be so boring. So tell me, as far as presents go, boy or girl?"

"Theresa, there isn't going to be a baby shower," Brooke said through gritted teeth.

"Why not? Seriously, Brooke, you can't let being pregnant turn you into some stay-at-home loser."

Brooke felt something inside her snap. "There isn't going to be a baby shower because there isn't going to be a baby, Theresa. So shut the hell up about your stupid party."

Theresa's eyes rounded. "You lost it?"

Brooke's jaw clenched. "Something like that."

Theresa looked like she wanted to say more, but Peyton, who had overheard the last part of the conversation, jumped in. "Drop it, Theresa," she said firmly, staring at Brooke with troubled eyes. Brooke sent her a tight smile of thanks and then avoided her for the rest of practice. The damage was done. By tomorrow, everybody would know that Brooke Davis had terminated her pregnancy.

Nathan came up behind her afterwards and rested a hand on her shoulder. "You look upset," he murmured.

She shrugged him off. "I'm fine."

"You're not."

"I am. Just tired. And sore. Maybe I should lay off cheerleading for a couple weeks."

"Yeah, take it easy."

Brooke nodded, though it was clear she was far away from their conversation. "I'll see you tomorrow, Nate."

That night she lay in her bed, staring up at the ceiling. Sleep was a foreign concept by now. She hadn't done so properly ever since she had pushed Nathan out the door. And after that thing with Theresa…no way was she even trying.

She decided not to go to school the next day. It was getting harder and harder to ignore the images that tugged at her mind, the ones that she had tried so hard to lock out.

"Are you ready?"

"Ready."

She gasped and buried her head in her hands, futilely attempting to block everything out. She couldn't do this. She wasn't ready.

"Are you okay?"

"I want to go home now."

Brooke searched in vain around her room. She needed something to distract her. Something to...

"No."

"Pardon?"

"No, no!"

Something to take the edge off.

Brooke sat up. She wouldn't find what she wanted in here, but she knew where she could. She steadied herself against the wall and limped towards her father's study.

Later that afternoon, Nathan stood at Brooke's front door. He had been concerned by her absence at school that day and had ditched the first chance he got to drive over to her place. He rang the doorbell, impatiently jiggling his keys in his hand.

Nobody came. He rang again.

Somewhere inside, Nathan heard the faint sound of what must have been a very large crash. He stiffened with alarm, then came to his senses and burst through the door, relieved to find it unlocked.

"Shit!" Brooke's voice hissed from the kitchen.

He ran over to see what was wrong. "Brooke, are you…" The question died on his lips as he caught sight of her. She was on the floor brushing shards of glass into a pile. Her right hand was bleeding profusely. "Shit, Brooke," he said, kneeling down and pulling her away from the mess. "What happened?"

She stared at him sullenly. "It was an accident."

"Of course," Nathan said. He paused as a familiar smell accosted him. He looked down at the pile of glass with narrowed eyes. "Brooke, have you been drinking?"

"I'm not drunk," she defended herself.

He glared. "Right. But somehow you end up on the floor bleeding. Let's get that cut bandaged up."

"There'll probably be a scar anyway," Brooke said, a few minutes later, as she sat at the counter while Nathan wrapped gauze around her hand.

"Probably," Nathan grunted.

"Just a little piece of glass and such a big cut," she babbled. "And a big scar for a big cut. It'll make my hand look weird, you know. It'll never go away."

"Most scars don't," Nathan said.

"No," Brooke agreed. "I've got a scar from pretty much every time I got hurt. There's one on my knee from falling off my bike when I was six. My dad was never home, so I tried to teach myself how to ride it, and I crashed into a tree. Then, when I was twelve, I got this one on my elbow from practicing cheerleading stunts with Peyton. Then I've got one on my ankle because…"

Nathan sighed as he taped the bandage into place. "I get it, Brooke. You got hurt, and it left scars."

Her lips twisted into a cold smile. Suddenly, she seemed very sober. "It didn't leave a scar."

Nathan's head shot up. Brooke laughed bitterly.

"Not one. You can't even tell it ever happened."

"Brooke…"

She looked away, but Nathan could still see the tears sparkling in her eyes. "Stuff like that should leave a scar, you know? Forget the stupid bike or Peyton's skinny arms dropping me or whatever. None of those things matter. But I had a baby inside of me, and now it's not there. And there's no sign at all that it was ever taken from me. I just feel empty."

Nathan stared at her with pitying eyes, his frustration forgotten. As the tears began to fall, he took her into his arms and held her close.

"There should be scars," she cried into his shoulder. "There should be scars all over to remind me of what I did. But I get out of the shower and look in the mirror and…nothing. And it's not right."

"Brooke," Nathan began.

"Don't tell me that it's okay," she warned through her sobs. "Don't tell me that it'll be better for me in the long run to not have any scars from this. It isn't, and it won't be. I just want something…I don't know…"

She burrowed herself closer against him. Gradually, her shoulders stopped shaking and her tears ran dry. When she spoke again, her voice was very small. "I want my baby back."

Nathan sucked in his breath, and she extracted herself from his arms, wiping at her eyes. "It's crazy, right?" she said, looking up at him plaintively. "I mean, I went through all that, and now, now I decide that I was wrong? Of course I can't just make halfway mistakes; I have to go all the way through with them so they're these huge, terrible bombshells of mistakes. I'm so stupid."

"Hey," Nathan said, finally finding his voice. "That's not true. You did what you thought was best for you, Brooke. It was a big decision – of course you're going to have second thoughts about it. It's going to be hard to live with for a while. But you'll get through it, and I'll be there to help."

Brooke stared at him blankly for a few minutes and Nathan determinedly kept the gaze. He wanted her to know he was being sincere. Eventually, she broke the eye contact and smiled bitterly. "I guess that was just another mistake I made."

He felt his heart clench. "What was?"

She looked back at him, but her eyes weren't empty this time. They were fierce, battling against repressed emotion. He saw something in them flicker. "Not letting you in before."

Silence. Brooke bit her lip. Hesitantly, she stuck out her hand.

"Stay with me tonight. Please."

Nathan's expression was unreadable. "You aren't going to push me away again?"

She shook her head quickly. "No."

"Look at me. Do you promise?"

Brooke took a quivering breath as she met his eyes. He gave nothing away, only stared at her with guarded eyes. She knew she couldn't keep stringing him along and then pushing him away like she'd been doing for so long. She had to make a final decision, one way or the other. She let out a slow exhale.

"Yeah," she said shakily. "This is me letting you in, Nate. For real this time."

Nathan regarded her carefully. "Okay," he finally said. "Let's get you upstairs. You look exhausted."

He took hold of her hand and gave her a tug. He glanced down at her, surprised, when she firmly held her ground. "…Brooke?"

There was a moment's hesitation. Her eyes flitted to his lips then his eyes then back again. And then she was pressed against him, her mouth moving softly over his, and he was returning the action. It was nothing like their first kiss – a frenzied, heart-stopping act as a result of blinding anger and hatred for each other. This kiss was quite the opposite, in fact. It was tender and gentle and almost hesitant. His tongue flicked out to beg entrance and her fingers tangled in his hair and then…

Then it was over.

"Sorry," Brooke said, panting lightly. "I just…"

Her eyes were wide, vulnerable. He could read the anxiety clouding over them, darkening her eyes with each passing second. It wasn't something he liked to see. With one gentle tug, he pulled her into his arms. He felt her stiffen. "I'm not going to hurt you, Brooke," he murmured into her hair.

"I'll hold you to that," Brooke said. She nestled into his chest and after a few more moments, she allowed herself to truly relax. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she noted that he was supporting her more than she was standing on her own. Her legs were wobbly, tired. She tried in vain to stifle a yawn.

He took a step back. "You need sleep. Is the chair still up there for me?"

Brooke nodded and a smile flashed across his face. "Great, we're all set then."

As it turned out, Nathan didn't need the chair. When they reached Brooke's room, she refused to let go of his hand, pulling him into bed with her. He was on the verge of protesting, but she silenced him with a quick peck to the lips. "We're not going to do anything. I just want you here."

He looked down at her with thoughtful eyes. "I guess that's okay then."

Wordlessly, Brooke burrowed into the space between his arm and chest, and he clasped his hands around her waist. She could feel his heartbeat lying against him like this. Instinctively, she rested a hand on his chest just above the steady cadence, and that warm feeling from before simmered in her stomach, stronger. Her voice broke the quiet that had settled over the room.

"Nate, I…"

Her sentence trailed off. He tightened his arms around her and tilted his head to place a feather kiss atop her forehead. "Yeah," he said quietly. "Me too."

Not long after, Brooke drifted off to sleep with something akin to a smile curving on her lips. She and Nathan may not have been ready for clear, simple declarations like I love you or I want everything with you, but maybe the way they were handling things right now was actually kind of perfect.