Okay this takes place after episode 3.16. Basically, it's what could've happened if a different approach was taken. Flashbacks are in italics.

Love, Emily


The funeral's today.

The news; you always hear about schools turned into nightmares, or someone you never even heard of shot and killed on the street. You always hear it, but no one ever thinks about those types of tragedies. It's not until your life becomes another one of their victims that it hits you. "Why'd this happen to me?" or "Did she know I loved her?" come into play. Questions that could've easily been answered now remain a mystery just because the fact never crossed your mind for a single second. That's when the guilt comes in, the anger, the confusion. They all come at the same time, too. I can't lie and say that I didn't see last week's occurrence at my school coming. The question wasn't when, but who. Now, the questions are along the lines of those I mentioned earlier.

The main question, however, is why was it Peyton who was killed?

I walked slowly into the hospital, Brooke clinging at my side, Nathan and Haley trailing behind me. Peyton, our Peyton was lying in one of these rooms, possibly not as lucky as some walking out those doors as if nothing had ever been wrong with them. How I wished she would surprise us all and meet us halfway toward the waiting room; crutches being her only issue, and we could all walk out of there as fast as we had came in. How we could just follow the others walking out with smiles upon their faces.

It wasn't that simple. Peyton had been shot.

Haley was asleep quickly, her head resting comfortably on Nathan's shoulder, who was falling asleep himself. Brooke was torn between trying not to cry and just letting herself go. I wasn't either or. Guilt was the only aspect crossing my mind.

"Excuse me…" I found myself calling a nurse back toward me. "Do you have any information on Peyton Sawyer's condition?" Surprisingly, my voice wasn't shaken with fear as I imagined it would be. I was afraid of her answer.

"Gunshot victim?"

Victim. That's what she was now.

"Umm, yes, her."

"I'm sorry, I can only give information to immediate family as of right now." Her voice didn't seem apologetic, not in the very least. It was just a rehearsed speech that had become a way of life.

"I'm her brother." I knew that was the only way. At least we both had blonde hair, it made the scenario more believable.

"Oh, okay, would you follow me, please?" I nodded and looked down at Brooke, who gently nodded toward me to get up and follow the doctor. She led me to a yellow-tiled room, one of the hospital's two trauma rooms. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

"It's Lucas…" My voice trailed off as I saw her in front of me, lying on that bed, hopeless in a way. She had more tubes hooked into her than I even thought humanly possible. I saw her wrapped leg, the units of blood, the IV stuck in her arm. "How is she?" The monotone of her heart monitor scared me, as if she were already gone.

"Lucas, Ms. Sawyer lost a lot of blood which caused her heart rate to drop."

"Wh-what, but her heart, it's beating fine right now." I listened for the monitor again, and it was the same.

"She's on a respirator." The nurse looked at me solemnly. "The loss of blood caused her heart to stop beating, which caused her loss of consciousness. Oxygen flow stopped to her heart, and we haven't seen her become remotely close to breathing on her own again."

"So what are you saying?"

"There's a very good chance she may not wake up…" Her words stabbed me like a knife, as if I had been shot as well. "Lucas, I need to know where yours and Peyton's guardian is, so we can discuss the options available."

"And what are those?" I tried not to let tears slip from my eyelids as my eyes remained on Peyton.

"Whether or not you'd like to keep her on the respirator."

I looked at myself in the mirror, tightening the knot on my tie, waiting to wake up from this nightmare. Waiting for Peyton to walk through my door, telling us all that it was a joke, a dream, whatever would make her still alive right now. Anything. Everything.

Brooke and I ended things. I guess you could say it was because of Peyton. How could we help each other through this if we both needed the attention, the consoling? I've found it hard to be around anyone, especially Brooke, since the day she died. Anyone in Tree Hill knows when you think of Brooke, you think of Peyton, vice versa. It's still the same in that aspect, just now the only person we can actually see is Brooke. Haley, I haven't seen her since the night at the hospital. My mom says she stopped by once, but I probably didn't even care enough to hear any of it. You can't really help your friends through this. We're all dealing with the same heartbreak. We all know how the others feel.

"Lucas…" I turned to see my mom standing in my doorway. "It's time to go."

"Hey, Peyton…" I brushed loose strands of blonde hair out of her face, my fingers remaining on her angelic skin which was now paled. "Wake up for me, babe, please." I grabbed her hand in mine, hoping for the smallest pinch of hope from her. She was in the same condition as she had been for the past four days, the only aspect changing being the amount of hope everyone had for her to pull through this mess. "I'm so sorry, Peyton…" My eyes started tearing. "I'm sorry, it's my fault. I didn't get you out of there quick enough. I was too worried about myself getting hurt as well…if Jimmy was still out there." Tears rolled down my cheeks as I held her hand tightly. "I'm sorry for not telling you I loved you back when I still had the chance. I'm sorry for not being there for you when Ellie died." Everything spilled out so easily now, everything I had been feeling; it was just too late. "It's my fault you're here Peyt…" I kept holding the side of her face, how much I was wishing she could just wake up from all of this. How much I wished to see her eyes instead of just her eyelids. Or even a simple movement of her hand enclosed in mine. "I wish it had been me."

I remained silent for a little while, still waiting for something that would never happen. "Brooke's been here, so have Haley and Nathan.They'll probably be by later, but school opened back up today. I didn't want to leave you alone, so my mom called me in." I found it somewhat odd that I kept talking, knowing she couldn't answer me back. I couldn't help it, I wanted this day to be like any normal one. "Everyone misses you, even Rachel…" a small smile appeared at the corner of my lips.

"Lucas?" I turned my head to see Larry standing at the doorway.

"Mr. Sawyer…" I shook his hand as he sat down in the chair next to me.

"Anything?" I shook my head no, grabbing her hands once again. "Lucas, we should talk. I just don't see this being anything close to what Peyton would want out of life." He was giving up. "I don't see my baby waking up, ever, and I want to end her suffering, leave her to peace."

"But there's still a chance. She's a fighter she'll pull throu-."

"It's been four days, Lucas. It's time."

I saw Haley as soon as I stepped out of the car, heading toward me with puffy, red eyes. Brooke was in close view, sitting with Larry and Whitey. Nathan was talking with a few of the guys from the Rivercourt, while nameless cheerleaders gathered in their cliques. My arms opened as Haley fell into them, quickly breaking down into sobs before any words had chance to be spoken. My arms engulfed her small frame into mine, holding onto her tightly, finally having someone to be with, to share the pain. Nothing was said, nothing had to be.

We walked toward the group of gathered persons, standing around the casket which held one of our best friends. Polite hellos were shared among the crowd, silence overcoming us all quickly as the funeral began. This was it, the end.

In Loving Memory

Peyton Elizabeth Sawyer

1988-2006

Beloved Daughter and Friend

I sat down in my regular chair, watching her in front of me, the shell that once held one of my best friends. That was all that was left; a simple shell, no emotion, no life, no movement. She had already been gone since the minute she arrived at the hospital.

It was our job, I guess, to flip off the machine, to let her go. How that helped us was beyond me. I watched Larry slowly leave, allowing myself to be alone with her as he had done so just minutes before. Now it wasn't "our" job to let her go, it was my job.

"Peyt…" my voice cracked quickly, and the tears filled my eyes faster. I didn't know what to say for the last time I'd ever get to. I simply lent down, hugging her close to me, holding her body against mine. "I love you so much, Peyton Sawyer…" My hands were shaking uncontrollably as I reached for the machine to her side. I lifted the plastic casing, looking back to her one last time before I flipped the switch on the respirator. I reached for her hand, waiting for a change. When the heart monitor flat lined, that's when I felt it; the loss of rhythm, the hollow loss. "I love you…" I said one last time, letting my lips graze across hers briefly. "Goodbye, Pey…"