When Peyton's crying finally subsided, she fell asleep in his arms, and Lucas felt so many different things that he thought his heart might explode. He was overcome with love for the beautiful girl he never should have let get away. He was worried about what had made her react this way, knowing deep down that it wasn't just his mothers' death. He felt guilty for keeping her from her life in L.A. He felt felt horribly for wanting so badly for her to be part of his. After a while, when he finally couldn't help it any more, he fell asleep with her. Just having her in his arms made him feel calm and rested and better.

After a while, Brooke knocked on the door to let the two blondes know that she, Haley, and Nathan were going to take Jamie for ice cream and then head to the River Court. She saw the two sleeping, and then felt Nathan and Haley looking over her shoulder at their friends as they lay cuddled up together. The married couple exchanged another worried glance, one of many they'd shared in the previous days since Peyton revealed that she was married.

"They still look good together, don't they," Brooke mused as they stepped out the front door of her house.

"What about her um...boyfriend?" Haley asked, wondering what the brunette's opinion on Peyton's relationship was.

"Honestly, I'm surprised it lasted this long," Brooke explained as they all started towards the little cluster of shops at the end of Brooke's neighbourhood. Nathan was walking with Jamie a bit ahead of the women, since he sensed the two girls needed some time to talk. "I mean, they've been together for like, four years."

"Why are you surprised?" Haley inquired. As much as Haley and Peyton had allowed their differences separate them over the past several years, she still couldn't shake the fact that Lucas and Peyton never should have broken up.

"Because he's not Lucas," Brooke said with a raised brow. "I mean, Julian is a great guy, and he's helped her through everything. And he loves her. He loves her so much. I just think that she never got over Luke. If I'm being honest, I don't think she ever will. I definitely thought Julian was a rebound."

"I guess not, huh?" Haley scoffed.

"I don't know. Did you not just see what I just saw?" Brooke asked. "You can't tell me that was nothing."

"I know," Haley said with a nod. "That's what I'm afraid of."

Haley should have been furious that Peyton would take her marriage so lightly, and to a degree, she was. But she didn't know Julian. She didn't know what Julian was like or how he treated Peyton or if he made her as happy as Lucas always had. She did know that the circumstances surrounding Peyton and Lucas breaking up were dire, and had they been older when that series of events took place, there was no doubt in her mind that the two would have made it. She just hoped that Lucas and Peyton both knew what they were getting themselves into, and that Peyton hadn't made any rash decisions.

She remembered the first time Peyton ever told her that she was in love with Lucas. They had been kids, just beginning to understand what that particular emotion even was. And she remembered after Lucas and Peyton had finally gotten together during their senior year, the worries Peyton had about him leaving her. Haley understood then, just as she was starting to see now, that the kind of love shared between the two blondes was big and all-encompassing and terrifying. It took no prisoners. That love was unwavering, and Haley had suspected it over the years, but she'd let her animosity stop her from seeing it. She'd watched her best friend pine over the blonde girl who'd been his weakness since he was 13, she just didn't know what she was witnessing. But he wrote novels about pain and need and love with such raw and intense portrayal of those emotions. She knew now what she suspected he always knew. His first novel hadn't lied; he'd be in love with Peyton forever.

She couldn't shake the feeling that he was going to be the one to get hurt again. But she was also aware that when it came to Lucas and Peyton, when they were apart, they were both hurting. They were just meant to be.

So why hadn't Peyton admitted that before she had married someone else?

----

She wasn't sure what time it was or how long she'd been asleep, but she was sure of one thing; there was only one man in the world whose arms made her feel the way she felt the moment her eyes opened. She didn't move, just needing to feel him and taking that familiar scent he'd always had. She knew that as soon as he knew she was awake, the questions would come, and she just needed a few moments of peace. Just a few moments to pretend that it was just her and Lucas and nothing else mattered.

She took a deep breath and tried to blink away the sleep, but it was physically painful. Her eyes hurt from crying, and that made her even more worried about what she'd look like.

"Hi," he said softly.

"How long have you been awake?" she asked. Her voice was hoarse from sobbing, but figured she'd at least try to stall the question period.

"A while. Figured you could use the rest," he informed her. His arm trailed up and down the bare skin of her arm as they lay tucked beneath the sheets.

"What time is it?" she asked, not wanting to move from the spot she was in. The more she lay there, the more she was convinced that his body was made to hold hers this way.

"Almost 4:00," he chuckled. She felt the vibration of his laugh beneath her cheek. He knew she was refusing to move, and he certainly wasn't going to make her.

"Mmm," she moaned, reluctantly trying to shake off the sleep. He felt his blood warm at the sound. "Is it wrong that I kind of don't want to leave this room?"

"Not really," he said softly. "But if we stay in here, you're going to have to tell me what's got you so upset."

"Did you hear that? Sounded like it was coming from the kitchen," she said quickly, trying to roll away from him.

He just laughed and stopped her with a strong arm. He was glad she still had her sense of humour, but it didn't stop him worrying that something was really wrong.

"This week has just been really hard," she said quietly. It wasn't a lie. It had been hard. Between getting married, and Karen, and the baby, and the shooting, and Lucas. It was a lot to handle, and had all just gotten to her all at once.

"I know," he whispered.

She willed herself not to cry again. Somehow, now, in his arms, she felt like somehow things would be OK. But the question that came next reminded her that they really wouldn't be.

"Didn't know you were a Lakers fan," he pointed out after seeing the purple fabric sitting on the chair in the corner of the room.

"I'm not," she sighed. "When in Rome, right?"

And there was the problem. When in Rome. More like when in L.A. In L.A., she had Julian. She loved Julian. She'd put on that tee shirt and sit with him while he watched the game with a beer in his hand. She'd joke with him and curl up into his side and be happy with him.

But in Tree Hill...in Tree Hill she had friends who knew her better than anyone else. She loved Lucas. She had memories and places where those memories were made. And she'd hang onto that feeling with everything she could, even if that meant essentially lying to herself.

"I guess we really should get up," she said, pulling away from him and setting her feet on the floor. She was dodging him, but she just couldn't give him answers to the questions she knew he'd ask. She didn't have the answers.

"Sure," he muttered. His mouth went dry when he looked at her. She was stretching the way she always had when she got out of bed - her back was arched slightly and her hands clasped above her head. God, she was gorgeous. It was all he could do not to grab her then and there and pull her back on top of him.

"I'm just going to...Oh God...Make myself not look like this," she laughed, catching her reflection in the mirror.

"You look really sexy," he said in a low voice before he could stop himself. She spun around to look at him and the smile she gave made him rethink apologizing.

"Well, thanks, but we're going out. And I don't want to look like a crazy woman," she said with a laugh.

"Where are we going?" he asked as she closed the ensuite bathroom's door behind her.

"I don't know!" she called. "You decide. Someplace happy!"

Someplace happy. He knew exactly where he was going to take her.

He just laid on the bed, waiting for her to emerge, and thinking about her. It was then that he realized just how much he'd missed her in the years since he'd seen her. He had tried so hard to convince himself and everyone else that he didn't, but it was true. Maybe he'd known all along. In fact, he probably had. But now it was as obvious to him as anything he'd ever known. He was in love with her still. He was in love with her before she'd ever spoken a word to him. He was in love with her when he played his first game, and when he played his last, and when he saw her for the last time that Christmas nearly 6 years ago.

"Is it even possible for you to look bad?" he asked with a smirk when she'd walked out of the bathroom 10 minutes later, fully clothed and put together.

"Lucas, I'm already hanging out with you. No need to lay it on so thick, OK buddy?" she teased, grabbing her purse and walking into the living room.

"And she's still unable to take a compliment," he laughed as he followed her.

----

He pulled his car up to Tree Hill High, the wide - albeit confused - smile on her face told him he'd picked the perfect place for them. The place held memories; some good, some bad. He knew that she'd walk the empty halls and reminisce and joke and laugh. He'd even take more of her deprecating sarcasm if she offered it.

"You planning on breaking in?" she teased as they walked across the quad.

"Coach Scott has his own keys, actually," he informed her, jingling the keys in front of him. He found the one he needed, and deactivated the alarm as he let them into the building.

"Of course. Well. This is weird," she said, looking around at the hall in front of them. "I feel about a million years old."

The same blue and white signs hung, their rhyming words cheering on the Ravens. Rows of lockers lined the hall and freshly waxed linoleum squeaked beneath her feet.

"Try walking into the teachers' lounge and being forced to call principal Turner 'Carl'," he laughed.

"Ouch. OK. You're the old one. I'm just the visitor," she teased, wrapping her arm around his shoulder.

"Thanks," he winced. "You know, every time I walk past this locker, I can still picture you standing here with me?"

"Oh God," she groaned with a smile as she looked at the pained blue door she'd called her own all through her senior year.

"Here," he said, placing his hands on her upper arms and positioning her with her back to the metal as she faced him. He reached down and bent her leg so her foot was perched against the wall, then moved to stand in front of her and rested his right hand on the wall above her shoulder.

"Deja vu," she laughed, as she felt her breath quicken at his proximity. "I wonder how much time we spent standing like this."

"As much as possible," he said with a smirk. "I think Whitey yelled at me about being late for class, standing right here, more than anything else."

"Was it worth it?" she teased.

"Definitely," he laughed. It was hard to resist the urge to kiss her, but somehow he managed. "Come on. I'll get us some coffee."

They walked through the halls and into the boys' locker room. She'd been behind those doors more times than most people knew. Nathan used to sneak her in there to make out after practice, or just wait while he showered so he could drive her home. She always suspected Whitey knew they were breaking the rules, but he never said a word.

Stepping into Lucas' office, she took a look around at the photos that hung on the wall. The state championship from their senior year, the college championships he coached. There was one of him, Skills, and Nathan in their uniforms, and another of them on the River Court. The photos on his desk were more personal. Nathan, Haley and Jamie. He, his mother, and Keith. She picked up the frame and ran her fingertips over the glass.

"I always loved this picture," she said with a smile.

"That's the last one taken of the three of us together," he said, looking over her shoulder.

"I know," she whispered. Of course she knew.

He moved to put on some coffee, and she shot him an inquisitive look. "I told you. It's too weird to go to the teachers' lounge, so Hales and I make our own coffee in here."

She could only laugh and shake her head at him.

"Open the middle drawer," he insisted. She narrowed her eyes at him again. "Just trust me."

She did as she was told and was a little surprised at what she found. There were no less than five photos of the two of them together, and a few of the drawings she'd given him in their youth.

"What's this?" she asked, staring down at the faces of two kids in love and completely oblivious to what was going to happen to tear them apart; convinced that nothing ever would.

"Inspiration," he said simply with a shrug.

She tilted her head at him and her heart fluttered just that little bit when she saw the sheepish grin on his face. She didn't know what to think. Should she love or hate that he still used her for 'inspiration'? She'd be lying if she said she wasn't flattered.

"I've gotta run and drop something off in Turner's office," he said. "You OK here?"

"Yup," she said with a smile. "I'll just snoop around and see what other dirt I can find."

"I'm afraid those photos are probably the most scandalous," he laughed as he walked out the door.

She sat down at his desk chair and felt like she was somehow fully immersed in his world. She pictured him sitting there, sketching plays or watching game tape. Stealing moments to write throughout the day between his official duties. She'd been in his home, and now she was sitting comfortably in his work environment.

It was too comfortable for her. But, she wondered, was there even such a thing as too comfortable?

She poured them each a cup of coffee when it was finished brewing, then sat in the quiet just thinking about him, and about them, until he returned.

"If you were anyone else, I'd be yelling right now to get out of my chair," he said with a laugh.

"Sorry," she said sheepishly.

"Don't be. It was a joke," he said, shaking his head.

She stood anyway, then perched herself on the edge of his desk with her mug in her hands. He moved to stand in front of her and took the white porcelain emblazoned with a blue 'R' from her, setting it beside her on the desk. She felt his hand cup her cheek and she leaned into his touch just enough to let him know that she liked having his hand there. He moved forward and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, not unlike the one she'd given him earlier.

She heard the whine she let out when he pulled away and wondered where it had come from. She should have been pushing him away, yelling at him that it wasn't his place to kiss her any more. She should have been able to stop him when he moved to the space between her legs and kissed her again. But she couldn't. She just couldn't.

Neither said a word when they parted again, and he moved away to let her stand. She smiled at him as she grabbed her mug again and handed him his before walking out of his office.

He knew she was leaving soon. He knew he hadn't seen her and had hardly talked to her in 6 years, but it was as though no time had passed at all. When they were together, nothing else mattered. It was just the two of them, and the fact that she was leaving and he knew nothing about the life she was returning to didn't make that connection go away. He knew it never would.

He shuffled papers for a moment, and organized his office so it would be ready when he returned to work, then went to find her.

Walking through the empty halls was something he'd done a million times before, but this time, looking for Peyton, reminded him of the day of the shooting. This, however, was less frantic and he was sure she was alive and safe and happy. But he still felt that sense of love that he so desperately wanted to quell. He knew he shouldn't feel it, so he tried to push it away, knowing that he'd never be able to do it.

He found her in the gym, sitting on the empty wooden bleachers and staring at nothing in particular. She knew he was in the room before she even saw him, and just shook her head that she still had the power to sense him that way. Things would be a whole lot easier if she couldn't.

They sat for a while, just the two of them in the quiet gym, sipping coffee next to one another.

"Do you believe in anything any more?" he asked finally, still staring forward. He remembered his first conversation with Whitey, when the man told him that a lot of praying happened within these four walls. "It's just hard sometimes to believe in anything."

The question didn't catch her off guard. If she learned anything in the past few days, it was that there was rarely a wrong word exchanged between the two of them. He could ask her anything, and it wouldn't surprise her.

"I believe in music and art and love," she said softly, and his eyes turned to meet hers. "I believe that you find faith where you need to find it."

"How do you mean?" he asked, brow furrowed in anticipation to hear her explanation.

"I mean...OK, you know that John Mayer song we listened to the other night?" she asked. She shifted her body and tucked her leg beneath her so she was staring at his profile. "Gravity."

"Yeah. I've heard it before," he nodded.

"Well I love that song. I have since I first heard it on his trio album," she explained. "But then I went to see him live on his stadium tour."

"Hang on. Peyton Sawyer when to see John Mayer's stadium tour?" he asked, turning to look at her with a smirk on his face.

"The dude can play and writes awesome tunes. Don't make me rant about it," she threatened teasingly, and he held his hands up in defeat. "Anyway, he just jammed on that song for like, 12 minutes. It was amazing. And the part where he sings 'keep me where the light is,' the house lights came on, then faded out each time he repeated it. That gave me something to believe in."

"OK...?" He didn't understand. He needed more, and frankly, he just loved to hear her talk about music. She was always so open and passionate.

"Thousands of people in one place, hearing the same thing at the same time. One line that could be interpreted so many different ways. That, right there, reminds me that there's something bigger than me. Someone sitting next to me can hear the exact same thing at the exact same moment, and have a completely different feeling about it than I do."

He just faced forward, digesting her words. She was amazing. In every possible way, she was amazing.

"I feel like I find faith and hope subtly. I'll be having a bad day or questioning everything, and I'll hear a song or see a painting or witness an act of kindness that just gives me that feeling." She didn't need to keep speaking for his sake, so he knew she just needed to keep saying the words - to finish her thought. And he wasn't going to stop her.

"I've missed you," he said quietly after a moment, shaking his head at how obvious it was to have realized that he felt that way.

And she was brought back to reality. She wasn't his to miss. He let her go. He broke her heart. He wouldn't have to miss her if he hadn't. She didn't want to sit there with him any longer and feel confused and conflicted. She wanted to be in L.A. with her husband, no matter how hard it would be to face him after everything that had happened. A million things ran through her head. Should she just not tell him? Was ignorance bliss? What Julian didn't know wouldn't hurt him, right? Yes. She wouldn't tell him. She'd stop this...whatever it was with Lucas. It was nothing. They were just two old friends who had given in to temptation in a moment of weakness. Wasn't it? She knew that if there was ever a moment to tell Lucas she was married, that was it. She just couldn't tell him and see that look of heartbreak and disappointment on his face as she said the words. Maybe it was better if he didn't know. She ignored the voice in her head telling her it was selfish to keep it from him, and that she was just withholding the truth to save herself from facing all the things she was feeling. All these secrets were piling up inside of her, and it was making her crazy.

"We should go," she said after a few moments.

He had expected her to say she missed him, too.

He couldn't find words to say, so he just nodded. He was was sure she'd still sense his disappointment. She pretended not to notice it, but she couldn't ignore the ache the pained look on his face put in her heart.

"Dinner at Nathan and Haley's, right?" she asked. At his nod, she continued. "I really have to decide when I'm going back to L.A."

"Yeah. I suppose you can't stay forever, right?" He knew she couldn't, but there was a part of him that wished she would tell him that she could. He wanted her to jump into his arms and tell him she'd been waiting for him to ask her. He wanted to have her with him. He knew then that she wouldn't be.

But dammit, she kissed him earlier! He put his lips to hers first, but she kissed back. Her hands found his shirt and pulled him closer to her. It was her raspberry lip balm that he could still taste. He wanted to ask her what that all meant. He just knew he wouldn't be able to handle it if she said it was nothing.

"Yeah, I really have to get back at some point," she said as they walked towards the door.

"Don't you miss it, Peyton? Tree Hill? Our friends? All of this?" he asked quietly. What he wanted to ask was if she missed him like he missed her. He was craving for her to say those words to him. Deep down, he knew that she just wouldn't.

"I can't do this right now," she said. "I'm sorry."

"Are we ever going to talk about it?" he asked desperately.

"Luke," she pleaded. "I can't."

Her tone indicated that he shouldn't press the issue. He'd learned as a teenager when she needed him to leave her be. But that didn't stop him from absolutely hating when she did this. She'd close herself off and not let him in on exactly what she was thinking. He was starting to believe that there was something she wasn't telling him. He was afraid of what it was. Maybe he just didn't want to know. Whatever it was, it was big enough for her to hide it completely, and that convinced him that these stolen moments with her would have to be enough.

He knew they never would be.