Thank youfor reading and reviewing. It's been a blast. All that's missing is a little epilogue. As usual, I don't own anything related to OTH.

Chapter 26

She comes back from the bathroom in pink panties, with a box of condoms in her hand. He is still staring at her boobs with a vacant smile, when she asks, in a matter-of-fact tone. "Did you use protection?"

The unexpected question throws him for a loop. "Hmm..."

She giggles and shakes her chest at him, pleased with the resulting effect. "Words, Broody."

He laughs, embarrassed. "I guess not."

She clucks disapprovingly and places the box on the nightstand, opens it and tosses him one packet. "Who knows where that cute little snatch has been, right?"

Lucas shrugs, aware that Brooke is right and that he screwed up. "Sorry..."

She cuts him off in a dry tone. "I'll draw blood for an STD panel tomorrow." Her smile is full of mischief. "Just use it next time."

Lucas shakes his head. As far as he is concerned, there won't be a next time. Still, he's not going to be arguing about it either, so he falls back to the smart reply. "Yes, dear."

=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=

It's still dark outside when he wakes up. Strawberry shampoo, sex and Brooke scents. A familiar weight across his chest, snoring softly. Legs tangled. He feels truly rested, for the first time since that night. Too little sleep tonight, but deeply satisfying. Present arousal goes without saying. The simple thought of her is usually enough to get him going. Not to speak of what her very noticeable weight, her naked breasts pressed against his chest, her thigh against his erection, her core against his leg. Overkill, all of it. Lucas keeps quiet, enjoying her physical presence, pushing the remains of his anger to the back of his head.

Sex has always been easy between them. Too easy, maybe. As natural as breathing. Love too, nearly as easy. Lucas writes novels, mostly romance, but, try as he might, he couldn't find the words to properly express his depth of feeling for her. Trust, however, is a whole different kettle of fish...

Eventually, she wakes up. Squirming, mumbling something indistinct. Grabbing his erection. Pumping. Giggling. Finally, her eyes on his. "If this for me, Husband?"

"Y-yes."

"Good."

A few minutes later they shower together and then get dressed. Emily, wearing a pink nightdress with bunnies and fluffy slippers walks in on them, yawning. "Mommy, daddy..."

Brooke sees her first. "Good morning, sweetie."

"G'monin." She pats her tummy with a tiny hand and looks unhappy. "Ungy."

Ten minutes later Emily is perched on her high chair, with a sippy cup of milk, a bowl of cut up apples and bananas and buttered bread cut into small squares. Brooke and Lucas are drinking coffee and talking local politics, of all things. Someone asked Lucas to run for the County's School Board. Neither Brooke nor Lucas are thrilled with the idea. Their continuing presence in Tree Hill, aside from holidays, is uncertain at best. But they both recognize it makes a certain amount of sense and that he could do some good. While they talk, Brooke notes the occasional nervous glance Emily directs at her.

She is anxious. The shrink in Brooke knows that is not a good thing for a two-year-old. The mother next to the shrink wrings her mental hands in guilt and helplessness. One glance at Lucas face, and his faint frown tells her he is at least somewhat aware of the issue. "What are your plans for the day?"

"Sticking around you, mostly. Maybe shopping for Emily's party."

"Saturday, right?"

"Yup."

"Who's coming?"

"You know, the usual suspects. Haley, Quinnie and the kids, Peyton, Nora and their kids, Deb, Skillz, May, Jason, Hildy and their bunch..."

"What about your girlfriend?" Lucas' coffee goes down the wrong pipe. Coughing. Brooke pats his back sympathetically. "I'm sorry..."

"Sorry? You did it on purpose!"

A bright, utterly innocent smile. "Who, me?"

Lucas growls, but can't help smiling back. "I hate you."

"You do not."

She's irresistible. "No. I guess I don't." He shakes his head. "Girlfriend? Really?"

"So? Is she coming?"

The question sends Lucas' mind straight to the gutter, and he smiles. "Yes."

Brooke ignores him and changes subject. "Emily needs to do something fun and relaxing."

"We can take her to the beach."

"You should take her."

"Me?" Brooke is the one who needs to reconnect.

"Well... despite last night, we are still walking on eggshells around each other, Broody. She picks up on that."

"So you take her. You need to spend time with her."

"I know. And I will." They both look at Emily, who's still distracted with her breakfast. 'Right now, though, I'm part of the problem."

"Hm." Doubtful.

"C'mon!"

"Well... " Lucas shrugs, conceding her point. "I was planning to go by the farm, look at their well pump. I could bring Em. They have baby bunnies."

Brooke's eyebrows rise. "Baby bunnies?"

"A couple of dozen, I think."

Brooke giggles, imagining the scene. "Bunny therapy... that sounds just about perfect."

=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=

It's past lunchtime, and Brooke is getting ready to go shopping for party supplies when she hears the sound of keys at the front door. She comes downstairs, and finds Sam squinting at her, looking embarrassed, hungover and upset,

"How was your evening?" Brooke asks cheerfully.

Sam sits on the sofa, hands covering her face and groans. Brooke goes to the kitchen, pours a glass of orange juice and grabs some painkillers from her bag.

"Take it."

Sam downs the pills with the orange juice and looks at Brooke. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Once again, Sam folds herself, hands to the back of her head, elbows on her knees. "Fuck!" She sounds more upset than hungover. Brooke waits, giving her a little space. Finally Sam unbends and looks at Brooke with narrowed eyes. "I fucked up."

Brooke responds with the stupidest of all shrink's tricks. "You fucked up..."

"I fucked my friend's baby brother."

Brookes frowns, her lips turning into a thin line. "How young?"

"Not sure. Junior in High School."

"Jailbait, then."

"If he is seventeen, it's covered by the four year exception." Sam is twenty-one. Consensual sex with a minor over sixteen is not statutory rape, if the partner is four years older or less.

Brooke pulls out her cell phone. "Name?"

"Atherson. Micheal Atherson."

A brief search. A small smile. "Well... cute!" Sam looks at the picture and blushes.. "Good job."

"Stop it!"

Brooke scrolls down the page she was studying. "Turned seventeen last October."

A bit of relief, not much. "Good, I guess." Visions of her tidy future going up in flames fade out.

Brooke, relieved, sits back and crosses her legs, "What happened?"

Sam stares at her for a bit, clearly struggling with herself. Then she shrugs. "We were supposed to go dancing... but they decided they wanted to watch a movie. We watched a couple, drank beer, a few shots, laughed. The boy was around, ogling me a bit. My friends... making out, then disappearing. Sexy noises. I was a bit too drunk to drive home, so I went to the boy's room. He's cute, in a nerdy sort of way. Just to make out, I thought. Then things got out of hand..." She shakes her head. "I'm such a fuck up."

"Doesn't sound too bad."

Sam raises her voice. "I fucking popped his cherry!"

"Still..."

"What? Did you do a lot of drunken cradle-robbing?"

Brooke turns serious. "I did a lot of stupid things when drunk... but not that." Brooke smiles. "The only time I actually corrupted an innocent I was stone sober, and well... I ended up married to the guy."

"You popped Dad's cherry?"

Brooke looks dreamy for a second. He was really very sweet. "Yup."

Sam glares at Brooke, remembering she is supposed to be very mad at her. Then she giggles. "Sometimes I forget. You guys go back a long, long way."

"Yes we do." Brooke mutters to herself. "I can't believe I'm asking this again today." She then looks Sam. "Were you safe?"

Sam looks lost for a moment. She the closes her eyes, balls her fists and hits herself in the forehead. "Fuck! Fuck! I'm an idiot!"

Brooke shakes her head in dismay and adds in a dry tone. "I take it that's a no." Sam gives Brooke a furious glare. Brooke ignores it. "Go shower and change. I'll fix you breakfast and we'll go buy some day after stuff." Brooke imagines herself teaching a safe-sex seminar for her two airhead bookworms and laughs.

They drive in silence to the drugstore. Sam is looking a little better, with her hair tied up in a loose ponytail, pink Georgetown sweatshirt, white shorts and sneakers. She glares, her arms crossed under her breasts like a sullen teen, as Brooke asks the pharmacist for the day-after pill and two blood sample kits for the STD tests. The pharmacist, a dour-looking elderly man, looks decidedly unimpressed with Brooke's green hair, much to her amusement. He begins a lecture on responsible behavior, noting that purchase of the kits requires a license, but just shuts up when Brooke presents her Medical Assistant ID.

Back in the car, Brooke raises the issue that's bothering her. "Sam."

"What?"

"What about the boy from last night?"

Sam smirks. "What about him?"

"Are you seeing him again?"

Sam answers in a strained falsetto "No! Of course not."

"I see..."

"What do you see?"

"You're ashamed, embarrassed and you just want to forget about last night."

"Right!"

"No, sweetie. Not right."

"What do you mean?"

Brooke sighs, unhappy about the direction of the conversation. "Tell me about this morning."

Sam glares at her "This morning?"

"Yes."

"I was alone in his bed when I woke up. Naked. Nauseous and with a fucking headache. I found my clothes scattered about, dressed, washed my face and tried to leave quietly. He was in the kitchen, making breakfast and smiling. I almost threw up and skedaddled."

"I see. And you want nothing from the boy, or to do with him."

Sam begins to see what Brooke is driving at, and replies in a pained tone. "Yes."

"Is he annoying? Disgusting? Immature?"

"He's actually kinda sweet, in a nerdy way."

Brooke shakes her head. "Well..."

"What?"

"You know perfectly well, baby girl." Sam pulls back like she was slapped. "You used this boy, you stole something from him. The very least you owe him is an apology."

A long silence follows, while Sam digests what Brooke said. "You're probably right."

"Sex and booze, baby. If you're too drunk to drive, you're too drunk to fuck."

Sam flinches a bit. "Who said that?"

"I just did." Brooke smiles. "Both your dad and I have achieved some truly cosmic screw ups with that mix." Nikki, Nathan, Chris Keller, New York...

"All right. I'll call him, ok?"

"That's fine. Self-respect is expensive, but well worth the price."

After lunch, and a long afternoon of shopping for a bunny-themed party, Brooke and Sam make it back to the beach house. Lucas and Emily are also back, Seeing Brooke casually kiss her Dad and hug Emily, plus how helpful Brooke was with this whole walk-of-shame incident goes a ways into cooling down her anger.

=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=

Lucas walks into the bedroom, looking tired. "She's asleep."

Brooke, sitting on the bed, legs crossed, reading some medical journal, lifts her eyes and smiles at Lucas. "Took her long enough."

Lucas nods. He asks the question that had been bothering him since he got back with Emily. "What's up with Sam?"

Brooke hesitates. It's not really her story to share. "Boy trouble."

Lucas frowns, an edge of anger creeping in his voice. "What happened?" He's adorably protective.

"She made a mistake, Broody. She is trying to fix it."

Lucas stares at her, until he realizes that's all he is getting. "Talk to her, I guess."

Brooke shrugs. "That would be best."

Lucas sighs and sits next to her. "Brooke..."

"Lucas, there is so much..."

He raises his hand, palm towards he. "Wait. Let me get this out." She nods. "I get it, all right. I get why you needed some time. I was really scared and worried for you, but I get it. The one thing I just don't understand is how you could abandon Emily like that. She needed you, and.. you weren't there."

Brooke dry swallows. "I didn't abandon her..."

"Brooke..."

"No." She grabs one of his large rough hands in both of hers. "Let me speak." She breathes in and out slowly and continues. "I didn't abandon her. I left her with you. I know I hurt her, and I'm sorry. But you know in your bones one good parent is enough. And you... you're the very best of us."

"Bullshit."

"No, Broody. I know myself. I find it difficult to really connect with people. Technically, it's called an attachment disorder. A scar from negligence in early childhood."

"I have my own issues..."

"I know. We're not the textbook example for a well-resolved, mature relationship either."

Lucas may not have a psych degree, but he gets that. "True."

"You're still an amazing parent."

"You're pretty amazing too."

"Now it's my turn to call bullshit, Broody. I try, hard. But I don't always get it right."

"That's true for everyone."

Brooke smiles. "Point."

They lie down and cuddle a bit. The best communication between them is silent.

Brooke breaks the silence. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right, Pretty Girl. We're all right."

"I'm finding it hard to forgive myself. I left. I promised you I wouldn't."

"That's not how I saw it."

"What do you mean? I did leave."

"Three times." Brooke raises her head and looks at his face, puzzled. "First, at the end of Junior year, after I declared myself to you. Second, after you broke up with me Senior year."

"I didn't go anywhere."

"You don't have to leave town to just leave. Third, after the attack. You ran away, each time. From yourself, and from us. This is what your promise means to me. That you're not running away anymore."

"But I did."

"No."

"No?"

"No. I was scared. You could fall off the wagon, or damage yourself. But I knew you were doing what was needed. It was different, this time. I didn't doubt for one second that you were running back to us, not away from us."

Brooke just looks at him. Silent tears. She doesn't deserve him. She nods slowly, eyes closed. He is absolutely right. It was different this time.