AN: Sorry for the delay in updating. My muse insisted I write another fic for a few days. The result is the complete story "And then there was Paris." At any rate. I believe there is only two more chapters in this fic. Thank you for the encouragement and the reviews. As usual, I don't own anything related with OTH.

Chapter 14

The resort is about one hour outside Nassau and it caters basically to serious wealth. There is no other property in sight, and outside of the amazing suites, with canopied beds, a varanda overlooking the ocean and a huge jacuzzi, it has a first class kitchen, manicured gardens and pathways, full spa, a very attentive staff and an exclusive stretch of white sandy beach. Everything for about fifty rooms, probably half occupied with power brokers and their trophy girls, celebrities and the occasional honeymooning trust fund baby. At this moment, with Ravens second on the best-sellers list for three weeks and the frenzy at the fashion industry concerning the CoB fast approaching IPO, Lucas and Brooke are definitely A-list celebrities. It's late afternoon, and the young couple is lying in the sun, with the beach to themselves, resting after a particularly athletic and satisfying session of post-lunch sex in their suite.

Brooke lifts her dark glasses, enjoying the view of the backside of the retreating cabin boy, who just brought them their drinks. "Ah, Lucas baby. To be young and in love..."

Lucas gives Brooke a fond smile. "You're talking about the cabin boy's boyfriend?"

"How cynical, Fiancee." Taking a sip of her orange-colored drink. "Why would such a fine piece of ass be unavailable in this way?"

"I don't know about unavailable, Pretty Girl. All I know is that I had a glimpse of that fine piece of ass making out with one of the pool boys last night in a dark corner."

"How disappointing. At least I had the forethought of bringing my own fine piece of ass to this poor island."

I give her a small smile. "I'm glad I came too."

Brooke giggles. "This fine piece of ass requires some attention, Fiancee. Lovingly applied sunscreen, perhaps." Brooke turns belly down, and removes the top from her bikini.

Lucas gets lost for a bit, contemplating the little slice of heaven in front of him. "It will be a pleasure, Pretty Girl." Fine piece of ass, indeed.

He is halfway through his job when the cabin boy comes back running with a telephone in his hand. "I'm very sorry, sir, madam. It appears to be an emergency."

Brooke picks up the phone. "Miranda?" Brooke listens, her face hardening to a serious mask as the message progresses. Brooke turns to Lucas. It's Peyton. She's been attacked. Right now she is in surgery at Brooklyn Memorial, and her condition is critical. Her father is somewhere in Indonesia, and I'm her medical proxy. We have to head back."

"Julian is in LA, discussing budgets for shooting Ravens. The studio will know how to get in touch with him."

"Try to get a hold of Julian. I'll get our bags and get us checked out. We'll ask the hotel management to book us a private jet back to New York immediately." Five hours later we are walking into the hospital lobby, having showered and changed in the airplane.

"We are here for Miss Peyton Sawyer"

"Let me check. Ah. She is at the ICU. I'll page her attending. Please, have a seat."

"About twenty minutes later a man in his late fifties comes looking for Brooke. Hi, I'm Dr. Robertson. Ms. Sawyer came to the emergency room having been seriously beaten, I believe with a baseball bat, or a similar object. Her most serious injury is head trauma, a hairline fracture of her skull, with accompanying brain swelling. In addition, she has three broken ribs, one of them was puncturing her lung, a right wrist fracture, assorted trauma to her face and torso and a dislocated knee. We have treated her injuries, mostly her brain hemorrhage, the lung injury, and reduced her wrist and knee injuries. Right now she is in a coma, and we are monitoring her brain swelling, to control the damage. Her condition is listed as critical."

"Thank you Doctor. What are her chances?"

"There's a very good chance she will never wake up. Full recovery must be considered unlikely at this point. The police wants to ask you a few questions. Can I send them in?"

"Please, just give us ten minutes."

Brooke starts sobbing. "Oh, Luke. How could this happen? Who would do such a thing?"

Lucas envelops Brooke in his arms, pressing her against his chest. He feels numb, as his mind can't wrap itself around the idea that someone would take a baseball bat to Peyton Sawyer in such snger. "I don't know. Pretty Girl. I just hope they catch them."

"I need to call Larry, and we still need to talk to Julian."

"We need to speak to John Knight, her former boss in LA, and the guys at Green Cow as well.

But maybe we should talk to the police first."

"Good evening, I'm Detective D'Arneaux and this is Detective McGraw. We would like to ask you a few questions." D'Arneaux is a large black man in his fifties, with kindly, tired eyes, and McGraw is a redhead in his thirties, skinny and high-strung.

"I'm Brooke Davis, and this is my fiancee Lucas Scott."

"And how do you know Ms. Sawyer?"

"She is a childhood friend. She lives in my apartment on Fifth Avenue."

"Can you account for your whereabouts in the last twenty-four hours?"

"We have been on vacation at a resort in the Bahamas for three days, until six hours ago. We received a phone call informing us of Miss Sawyer's condition and we came straight back."

"What do you do Miss Davis?"

"I'm a fashion designer, and I own a company called Clothes over Bros."

"What about Ms. Sawyer, what does she do?"

"She is a musical producer for SIA records and for Green Cow records. She is also a student in the New York School of Art."

"Where do you live?"

"The penthouse in the building at the corner of Fifth Avenue and East Sixty Fifth."

"Besides you and Miss Sawyer, who else lives with you?"

"My mother Victoria Davis, and my fiancee, when he is in town."

"And where do you live, sir?"

"When I'm not in New York, at small college town in North Carolina."

"You have no knowledge of the whereabouts of Miss Sawyer in the past twenty four hours."

"No we don't"

"Does Miss Sawyer have a family or a boyfriend?"

"Yes, her boyfriend is Julian Baker. He works for a Hollywood studio, and he has been in LA for the past week. She has a brother who is currently serving with the Marines in Afghanistan, and a father who runs dredging boats, and is currently in Indonesia. She has no other relatives."

"I'll need contact information on anyone who might know about Miss Sawyer's whereabouts in the last twenty four hours."

"Your best bet is John Knight, owner of SIA records or the people who run Green Cow records.

I'll write down their contacts."

"There is nothing further at this time, Miss Davis, Mr. Scott. We will be in touch.

We enter Peyton's room. It's surprising how small she looks, with all the equipment and tubes and IV bags around her. She is on a ventilator, with a machine helping her breathe. Her beautiful hair is gone, and there is an angry scar on the side of her skull, as well as bruises everywhere. How could anyone dare to reduce such a beautiful, vibrant woman to this little broken-up doll? Brooke and Lucas are both terrified for her, sad and very, very angry.

They are only allowed a one-hour visit at this time. Brooke speaks to her. "Peyton, honey. I'm so sorry. Please come back to us. We need you in our lives. I need you, best friend, sister, love." The tears fall down her face. "Please come back to us."

The doctor comes in and checks her chart. "Can she hear us?".

"She is in a mid-level coma. There is still substantial brain activity, and her scans will exhibit reaction to sound stimulus, so, yes. She can hear you. We should have a better grasp in her outlook in three or four days. If she maintains this level of activity, she will probably wake-up within a week to a month. If she slips onto a deeper coma, the likelihood of her ever waking up becomes slim. You should consider her position for long-term life support and conditions for termination of support. We can offer specialized guidance on these issues."

"But she has a father and a brother. It shouldn't be my decision."

"She is an adult, and you are her medical proxy. This means you are legally responsible for all decisions concerning her care as long as she cannot make her wishes known. The proxy supersedes family relations. For now, visiting hours at the ICU are from three to seven, and we can accommodate at most two people in the room at a time. I recommend you go home, contact her family, rest and reflect under which conditions she would want to be kept alive."

"Very well, Dr. Robertson, thank you."

On the way home, Julian finally returns Lucas' calls. "Hi, man. What's up?"

"It's Peyton. She's been attacked, and savagely beaten."

There is silence on the line. After a few seconds I insist. "Julian? You there?"

Julian answers in a near whisper. "Sorry. She going to make it?"

"It's touch and go. She's in a coma, in critical condition. We should know more in a few days."

"Do they know who did it?"

"Not yet, as far as we know."

"All right. I'm going to New York. I'll get there as soon as I can. Can I stay at the penthouse?"

"Of course, buddy. As long as you need. Call when you know what time we should expect you."

"Will do. Thanks, Luke."

"You're welcome. Safe travels."

"Broody, I managed to talk to Larry. He should be here in a couple of days. I also talked to someone in the Marines, who said they would transmit a contact request to Derek as soon as possible."

We received Peyton's personal effects at the hospital, including her phone. Lucas put it to charge, and finds a personal phone for John Knight on her contact list. He calls, using her phone, and he answers after a couple of rings."

"Hi, Peyton."

"No Mr. Knight, I'm sorry. This is Lucas Scott, calling from Peyton's phone."

"Ah, Peyton's Lucas. Author of Ravens. Nice book."

"Thanks..."

"The police have been in touch with me. I think I know why Peyton was attacked, and who did it. You know we signed a band called Fast Slap for SIA. Peyton was in charge of producing their work. Their lead guitar is a guy called Bruno, who was a musical liability for the band. So, the day before yesterday, she fired him from the band. He tried to get the others to quit with him, but Peyton convinced them to stay. He was not gracious about it, and, probably attacked Peyton. If that's the case, our company bears a lot of responsibility for Peyton's injuries. We should have assigned corporate security to Peyton, at least for a few days after she fired Bruno. It was an egregious failure in our part, and we will assume full financial responsibility for her care and compensate her for the pain and suffering incurred." His voice dropped a register. "I am terribly sorry about what happened. I like Peyton a great deal. As soon as I can, I intend to go to New York to see her. Please, leave me your contacts, and keep me informed of the developments concerning her health. Goodbye, Lucas."

"Goodbye, Mr. Knight. And thank you."

"Just take good care of her."

"We will."

Julian arrives the following morning, and we report everything we know to him. He is clearly horrified and concerned, but behind it he is behaving in a strangely squirrely fashion. Brooke puts her finger right on it.

"You're not sure you're are really up to this, are you?"

"Of course I am." He looks around, as if searching for support, but all he sees are hard stares from Lucas and Brooke. "I love her..."

Lucas raises his voice. "Don't lie to us!" And softer. "Don't lie to yourself."

Brooke raises her hands, palms turned to him, and a softer expression in her eyes. "Julian, even in the best of scenarios, this is going to be hard. You've been dating for a little over three months, and it's been sweet and fun. But you didn't sign up for this. There is no shame in admitting that. No shame in leaving now. We will understand, and if someday you come for her again, we will not hold it against you. But now, if you stay, you have to be all in. That's what she deserves. You choose. All in, for whatever happens, or just go back to LA."

We look at him, as a minute, and then another pass in silence. Finally, he looks down, and with a defeated posture, grabs his suitcase, and shuffles slowly out of the penthouse.

I smile at Brooke. "What do you think?"

"He's a good boy. Fifty-fifty he changes his mind."

"I agree."

Brooke looks at the door a little annoyed. "Rich boys... even the good ones need a backbone transplant once in a while."

We are eating lunch when the doorman buzzes to inform us that the police is coming up. We open the door and detectives D'Arneaux and McGraw grace our doorway.

"Please, come in. What can we do for you?"

"Miss Davis, Mr Scott. Good afternoon. It is procedure to inform the immediate family when an investigation is closed. We assume you are that family."

"That is correct."

"We have made an arrest. Mr Bruno D'Onofrio, a musician formerly working with Miss Sawyer was responsible. We found the weapon used, and ample trace evidence connecting him to the attack. The DA is going to the grand jury for indictments for aggravated assault and attempted murder. If Miss Sawyer passes away as the result of her injuries, the charges will change to first degree murder. That was all. Good afternoon."

"Thank you. It's very comforting that the person responsible is not around anymore."

They spend the visitation period that afternoon at Peyton's bedside. Her doctor came and reported no change in her condition, which, on the surface, is good news. When they came out of the ICU, Julian was sitting there, crumpled, suitcase between his legs, looking like he hadn'r slept in a week. He lookas at them. "All right. I'm all in."

Brooke smiles. "There is still five minutes in the visitation period. Go tell her that. The doctor explained to us that, despite the coma, she can still hear us." After he leaves, Lucas and Brooke exchange a discreet high five.

That night, Derek makes a video call from Afghanistan. Lucas and Brooke inform him of the situation, and introduce him to Julian. Derek asks them if he should come, and they tell him he should wait until they knew more, before deciding. He gives them instructions on how to forward messages to him, and he promises to reply as soon as possible.

Next morning, Larry arrives. As soon as she sees him, Brooke starts crying and throws herself into his arms. After a few minutes, they sit down, slowly appraising him of the situation and introducing Julian. After lunch, the four of them head to the hospital.

"Miss Davis, Mr. Scott."

"Dr. Robertson, hi. These are Larry Sawyer, Peyton's father and Julian Baker, her boyfriend."

"I need to speak with you regarding Miss Sawyer condition."

"You can speak to all of us."

"Very well. Overnight, Miss Sawyer took a turn for the worse. Her brain activity decreased to a very reduced state. The chances that anyone wakes up at this stage fall down to about ten percent."

Brooke begins to cry, and Larry sits down, face hidden in his hands. The doctor is looking at them, and something in his eyes tells Lucas there's something else. "Is there something that could be done, Doctor?"

"I want to recommend something. It's risky, but it is a well established alternative in these cases."

They all look at him. "What?" Asks Brooke.

"We can extubate her, and hope she starts breathing on her own. There is a thirty percent chance she won't, and extubating her would kill her instead. But the odds are that her brain activity would increase back from where it stands, and the chances that she eventually wakes up increases as well.."

"Is that your recommendation?" Asks Lucas.

"Because she is young, and in good physical shape, yes. I think extubation is the best choince for Miss Sawyer. And it should be done immediately, for better results. The decision is yours, Miss Davis."

Brooke looks around. "Larry?"

"I say, go for it." She looks at me and I nod assent. She also looks a Julian, who nods as well.

"Very well, Dr. Robertson. Do it."

"I'll have the nurse prepare consent forms for you to sign, Miss Davis. All of you should be present. I'll come to Miss Sawyer's room in fifteen minutes."

We gather around the bed, Larry holding Peyton's left hand, as the doctor stands on the right.

"Very well, let's do this." He removes the tapes and the wires holding the breathing tube in place and pulls the tube out. There is no reaction from Peyton. "She has three minutes to start breathing on her own. Alter that, irreversible brain damage settles in, and I'll pronounce her."

We wait.

"Come on, sweetheart, breathe."

And wait.

"Breathe, damn it."

And wait.

"C'mon Peyt. Take a breath, please."

She begins to turn blue.

"Come on, P. Sawyer, I need you, you skank. Just breathe."

The doctor looks at his watch. "Well, Time of..."

Brooke screams. "Peyton Sawyer! You backstabbing good-for-nothing whore! Take a fucking breath or I'll kill you!"

She takes a breath.

We breathe. We cry.

We are still standing around in the waiting room when Dr. Robertson comes around.

"Her brain activity has begun to show improvement. I'm transferring her from the ICU to a regular room. Now it's wait and see."

"Thank you Doctor."

"You're welcome. I think the prognosis is good. Your daughter is a fighter." He places a hand gently in Brooke's shoulder. "And she has some very good friends in her corner."

The next day, Larry heads back to Indonesia. We promise we'll let him know as soon as anything changes. Julian stays by her side almost all the time, talking to her, bringing music and reading to her. Brooke and Lucas go regularly, giving Julian some needed breaks.

Lucas turns to Brooke. "I have to go back next week. Training is starting, and I have to get my team in shape."

"Of course, my love. It was so good to have you full-time in my bed during this summer. I can hardly wait for this to be permanent."

"Same with me, princess. I'll be sorry to leave you alone with Peyton still in the hospital."

"Well, Julian is here. We'll cope."

"I hope she wakes up soon."

"So do I, Broody. I miss her."

"The world is a better place with our brave artist and musical genius Peyton in it."

"I don't have many friends, Broody. I need those I have."

"She'll wake up."

"I know she will."