This story is written by brookescott134 and Brucas46Forever. We really, really hope you like this. Comments are greatly appreciated and they are what keep us encouraged to write. Remember that.
Summary: Sometimes people play hard-to-get because they need to know the other person's feelings are real, but sometimes, for some of us, we play too hard.
Rating: T
Authors Note: Hello all, we are back... lol, sorry for the long wait, but things have been rather crazy. We enjoyed all your reviews and we appreciate all of you who took the time to review. It means a lot, especially the long ones, they are great, we never seem to get to to many, but when we do they just make us smile! But anywho, thank you all for reviewing, and we hope you enjoy this chapter... I know these next two chapter are going to make it seem like nothing is changing but they are, it is just taking awhile, when people... in this case Brooke, build up walls, they don't come down easy, especially with someone like Lucas who has hurt her so many time sin the past, and as much as i would love to give you all flowers and rainbows, especially with the crappiness of the show, I just don't think it would be all to realistic, but I hope you enjoy and understand, and again... please review!!!!!
When Your Sun Turns Black
Chapter Twelve: Still the Same Darkness
"This is a song
For a silent, sleeping girl
She wants nothing
But to wake and find you there" Song for a Sleeping Girl- Devics
"I'm sorry, Mr. Scott. We did everything we could."
The world was spinning around him. His world was falling out of place with the doctor's news. Nothing could be worse, he thought; nothing. He grit his teeth in frustration, and they soon ached in pain, yet he was numb to it all. It made him want to rip his hair out, want to scream in agony.
His heart dropped to the pits of his stomach, disabling him from breathing, hearing, talking. He didn't want to ask for more information. He didn't want to know. He wanted his wife to be safe. He promised her she would be safe. She had to be.
Clearing his throat, swallowing past the dryness, Lucas asked, "What do you mean?" His own voice sounded strange to him—small, like the voice of a terrified child.
"Sir, your wife had something called an ectopic pregnancy. They are extremely fatal, for both mother and child, and she was very advanced, which is never a good thing."
He was sure the doctor was trying to give him a heart attack. "So . . . so what are you saying?" Lucas wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer.
"Your baby didn't make it. Well, they never do in this situation," the doctor explained.
The news was like a slap in the face, scarring him for life. He knew how much Brooke had wanted a baby. He knew how much losing the last one had affected her, and he knew things were a long way from being okay. "And . . . and what about my wife? Is she okay?" His heart pounded in his chest as he awaited the doctor's response.
"That depends on what you define 'okay' as. She has lost a lot of blood, she flat lined during surgery, and she is now living with only one fallopian tube, but she is living."
"She's . . . she's . . . she's fine?" Lucas breathed. "She's awake?"
"Yes, but I'm warning you: the woman you are going to see isn't going to seem like your wife. We have people come down and talk to mothers who end up in this situation, but she has refused them. She is shut down and quiet, almost non-responsive, which worries me, but, hopefully you can get to her."
"I-Thank you," Lucas said, still shook up from the night's events. "Can I go in and see her now?"
"Room 419," the doctor said, getting a nod from Lucas, who almost instantly jets off. "Oh and Mr. Scott," the doctor called after him.
Lucas turned and asked impatiently, "Yes?"
"I am sorry for your loss."
Lucas merely nods, turning to jolt to Brooke's room. As he nears the door, he slows down. He doesn't want to see her the way she is. He wants to see her happy, smiling. Yet, the need to be near her now overpowers his fear and he walks inside, gulping at the sight of a washed out Brooke before him.
Her skin was pale and damp with sweat. There were bags under her eyes, and she was breathing heavily. She looked as if she just ran a marathon, as if the life had been sucked right out of her.
Taking small steps to her side, he sat down on the chair next to her bed, keeping his hands to his sides for the moment.
He took in the sight of her again, wishing he were in her place instead—wishing she wasn't the one who had to go through all this pain.
Grabbing her hand gently he calls in a whisper, "Brooke, baby. ...Talk to me."
She doesn't move, doesn't open her eyes, and suddenly, like an intense wave, the night's predicaments crash into him at full force, and he breaks into a series of heart-wrenching sobs, clutching onto his wife's hand for dear life. But she stays still, not looking to him. She simply lies there, letting the breath come in and out of her, not moving, not blinking, just laying there . . . lifelessly.
"God," he sobbed. He had been terrified all night. All the waiting had taken a toll on him and he was finally letting it all out. The rush of seeing her alive was almost too much for him. He knew, though, that their battle was not over.
She rolled away from him, removing her hand from his so she was now on her side, her back facing him. She was cold and shut off, just as the doctor had said she was.
"Brooke," he whispered pleadingly. "Look at me."
But she said nothing; she did nothing. She stayed on her side, her back to her husband's sobbing, broken figure as she stared blankly in front of her.
"Please, Brooke." He touched her hand softly only to have her pull away again. "Baby, please . . ."
"Go away, Lucas," she said quietly. Her voice was dry and hoarse.
"Brooke, we have to get through this together."
"We're not together," she said coldly. "Leave, Lucas."
She lay motionless on the bed. He sat next to her, watching her, trying to analyze her thoughts; to read her mind.
He sighed. It had been three weeks, close to four now, and everyday had been the same. Everyday she would get up, only for the sake of Shelby and Landon, and after they were out of the house, she would resume her immobile state.
He would try to talk to her. He would try to console her.
She would always push him away.
"Baby, you have to talk to me," Lucas said softly, kneeling by the side of the bed, only to have her roll over away from him. "Brooke, this isn't good for you."
She wouldn't answer him.
Huffing angrily he said, "Look, I know losing this baby was hard for you—it was hard for me, too—but I need you to let me help you through this."
"Just go, Lucas."
"Fine, Brooke. ...If that is how this is going to be . . . then, fine." With that he was gone.
He had learned from last time that what she was requesting of him was not what she truly wanted, and this time, he was going to make sure things went right. He was going to make sure to be by her side through it all, no matter how stubborn she would be.
"Go!" she yelled, scarring her throat. "I know you want to leave, so please, just go!" she said angrily, trying to hold in her tears.
"No, Brooke." He shook his head determinedly. "I'm not leaving."
"Go," she demanded again, her back still to him.
He didn't want to argue with her; she was too worn out for that. However, there was no way in hell he was going to leave her alone either. I'm her husband, damn it, he thought angrily. I should be here with her. So, he sat back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. He didn't say anything, hoping he would get his point through this way.
"Please, Lucas," she finally sobbed, letting her tears come out. "Please," she begged.
He nodded his head 'no', again keeping silent and still.
"Lucas, please," she continued to sob, her small frame shaking as her back was still to him. "Please." She was breaking down in front of him, a sight he could hardly stand to watch. This was not his wife. This was not his Pretty Girl, his Cheery. This was a broken woman, overtaken with loss and sorrow; a woman giving up; a woman not willing to fight any longer.
"Brooke," he said softly, walking around the bed to the side she was facing and climbing onto it. He pulled her shaking body into him and held her tightly against her will. "Sh," he soothed.
"No." She pushed him hard, her tear filled eyes clamped shut as she tried her hardest to push him away the best she could. She was too weak, feeling like a newly born baby whose arms have not yet developed the power to move.
He held her tight, wanting her to know he wasn't going anywhere. Her sobs were the saddest opera he had heard, and they brought out the tears in his own eyes.
She sobbed hardly, finally giving up and falling into him, drenching his shirt in her tears. "What is wrong with me. ...Why?" she sobbed, almost uncontrollably.
Her question stung him, hurt him, but it gave him a sense of happiness at the same time for she was letting him in, albeit slowly, but he was sinking his way in all the same. Maybe this was the first sign that things would be okay. "Nothing is wrong with you, Brooke. It's not your fault, baby. It's not your fault," he said as he rocked back and forth with her.
"Yes, it is," she sobbed.
"No, Brooke. No. No," he said in hushed whispers. "I love you, Brooke—no matter what. It doesn't matter anymore. It's over. What matters is that you're fine."
"I wish it would have been me. Why did it have to be the ba-It should have been me!" she sobbed harder.
"No, Brooke," he cut in immediately and his voice was firm. "Don't ever say that again." His voice quivered as he spoke. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Brooke."
"You don't love me," she sobbed.
He knew he had to be patient. "I do, Brooke. I love you, or else, I wouldn't be here right now."
"You don't. How could you? I can't even give you a child."
Realizing what she was beating herself up about, his heart went out to her. "Brooke, please understand this: it doesn't matter whether you can give me another child or not. We have two, beautiful, healthy children, and I have you. That's all that I could ever ask for."
"I am sorry, Lucas. ...I'm so sorry," she continued to sob as if she'd heard nothing of what he'd said.
"Sh, Brooke, it's not your fault, babe. It's not your fault," he repeated.
"It is—all of it, and everything. ...I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She was now sobbing hysterically, as if she was letting out all she'd been holding in all at once, and finally, it was all to him.
He never knew his heart could contradict itself as much as it was now. Her tears killed him, stabbing him in the chest with the sharpest of knives. Yet, in two years, this had been the most she had ever opened up to him.
"Brooke, baby, please," he begged her. Her sobs were twisting his heart in excruciating pain, and he couldn't handle it.
She continued to cry into him, clutching onto his shirt with a clenched fist.
He didn't know any other way to console her, so he continued to whisper sweet nothings in her ear, hoping she would quiet down.
And, after a few minutes had passed, she did just that. Her sobs became whimpers, and she whispered one final "I'm sorry" into his muscled chest before drifting off into a deep sleep.
Brooke awoke the next morning to the feeling of strange arms around her, and as she looked around she realized were she was and what had happened the night before. Looking to her side, she saw her husband splayed out across the bed, almost falling off of it. She panicked. He wasn't supposed to be this close to her. Things weren't supposed to be getting better, because every time they did, they just ended up falling apart. She sat up abruptly, looking around, trying to see if there was a way to get out of the room with no one noticing. Whether it was the drugs or what, she honestly didn't no, but she knew she didn't want to be here, and she didn't want to be this close to him.
He sensed her moving, sensed her sitting up in the bed, and he sat up just as quickly, afraid she was going to try and leave. It wouldn't be good for her to walk yet. "Brooke," he said, his voice groggy, "where are you going?" he asked.
"I- You-I-" she stammered, looking to him and then to the door, moving out of the covers slightly as if she is seriously considering leaving the bed.
Lucas isn't blind, and he sees her squirming under his gaze. His stare deepens and he looks angry now. "Brooke," he says slowly, as if waiting to give her a chance to get back into the bed with him, into his arms. "Where were you going?"
"I, um, well, I was just—"
He sighed and shook his head at her rebelliousness. Stretching his arms out, he pulled her to him, despite her attempts to resist. He was thankful she was too weak to fight him. "I thought we were over this, Brooke."
"Let me go, Lucas. Please," she said, her body tense against him, as if she was almost scared of his touch.
"Why do you keep doing this, Brooke? I'm trying to get everything back on track, and I can't see why you want to stop this."
"Because," she almost shouted, pulling away from him. "Because," she started again, softer this time. "Things won't be normal ever again, Lucas. They will be fine for awhile but then you are going to leave me again. You are going to throw yourself into your work and avoid any emotion or anything with me and we will end up right back where we were. Don't you get it, Lucas? This is exactly what happened the last time," she explained, her voice cracking more with each word and he could see the tears welling in her eyes.
"Brooke, I know that it seems like that right now. But please, baby, I need you to give me a second chance. I promise you I will give you everything you want. I promise I'll make you happy . . . and I'm so sorry that I couldn't before." His voice cracked at the end of his words, and Brooke's heart did the same.
"No," she pushed. "No, it's too late." She shook her head, looking away from him.
"I don't know what you want me to do, Brooke. Help me out here. Tell me what you want."
"I want you to go."
He became stubborn now, determined not to let her win. "Well, then, I'm staying." He crossed his arms over his chest and laid back.
"Leave, Lucas," she said sternly. "This isn't a game."
"Then stop playing with my heart."
"How am I playing with your heart? I am telling you to leave. Now, please, respect that and go, damn it," she said, beginning to extremely frustrated with him.
He looked at her. "Lay down," he demanded, getting out of the bed. "You aren't in a condition to be up right now. You need to rest," he said, pushing her body down gently, pulling the covers around her which she amazingly didn't object to. She watched then as he sat down in the hospital chair next to the bed and grabbed a magazine off of the small table. He opened it, avoiding her gaze.
She stared at him suspiciously. He was ignoring her pleas for him to leave, and, deep down inside, though she would never admit it, she liked how he was fighting back. But she could never show him that. "Lucas?"
"Rest, Brooke," he answered simply, not looking up from the magazine in his hands.
She huffed like a little girl, her bangs flying upwards. He chuckled, even though he didn't look up from his paper.
"What are you laughing at?" she snapped, folding her arms over her chest as she allowed her back to rest against the pillows on the bed.
"You," he answered, flipping through the pages of the magazine, although he wasn't reading a word. "You're acting like a kid." His voice told her he was amused.
"Well, you're treating me like one," she retorted, clearly annoyed by the amusement he was getting from this.
"That's because I love you, Brooke," he said in a way that sounded nonchalant as he continued to stare at the images before him.
"You're an ass."
"Aw. Yes, but I'm your ass. Remember that, babe," he said, flipping the page again. "Now go to sleep. You're grumpy enough as it is," he said with a smile. "I am going to go get some coffee and call the kids. Do you want anything?" he asked, tossing the magazine to the side and standing up.
"I'm actually craving chocolate," she admitted sheepishly.
"Well, too bad. Doc's orders say only hospital food." She glared and pouted her lips at him. He chuckled deeply as he walked over to her bed, placing his right hand over her side as the other moved up to cup her cheek. "Sorry, babe," he said as he kissed her lips tenderly, rubbing their noses together. Walking to the door he called back, "But I'll bring you some jell-o or something." Laughing at her expression, he shook his head as he walked out, leaving her to stare incredulously after him.
"I hate you," she muttered, sinking into the bed. Her husband was sitting next to her, scarfing down a fatty hamburger. They'd been there for hours, just sitting there, both saying hardly anything to the other. It was just after two. Brooke had refused to eat the food that the nurse had brought her, which Lucas didn't blame her for, and she claimed that she wasn't tired. So there they sat, him eating and her wanting nothing more than to hit him over the head with the disgusting pee pan next to her and steal the bag of grease sitting next to him.
"Hey, I brought visitors," Haley's voice sounded through the room as she knocked softly on the door. She walked inside, and Lucas and Brooke's two children followed her.
"Mommy!" Landon yelled with a huge smile, jumping up on the bed followed by Shelby.
"Guys, be careful," Lucas warned, setting his food down and going to the bed where his kids were attacking their mother with hugs and kiss.
"I missed you guys." Brooke smiled as she held them both tightly to her frail body.
"I know you need your rest but they were dying to see you," Haley explained.
"No, no, don't be silly. They are fine. Thank you so much for bringing them," Brooke smiled.
This was the happiest Lucas had seen her in a long time, but she also hadn't sleep all day and it was starting to be evident by the dark circles under her eyes and the large yawns that were escaping her mouth. "Brooke," he began.
"Lucas, let them stay," Haley cut in.
"She hasn't slept all day, and she is just out of surgery."
"And have I dropped dead yet?" Brooke asked as Landon continued to play with her hand, spinning her large engagement ring around her finger.
"Brooke," Lucas sighed, annoyed.
"Lucas. I am fine. Just stop it. You are just making things worse," Brooke said, still not bothering to look in his direction. She knew here comment was harsh, that all he'd been trying to do was help her, but she was Brooke Scott after all, and she wasn't letting him win this fight.
"I'm making everything worse?" Lucas questioned. "You almost died, Brooke! And despite what you think, you aren't invincible."
"Luke, the kids," Haley said softly, catching sight of Shelby's worried expression.
Shelby and Landon were looking up at their mom with big, doe eyes. "Mommy," Landon asked. "Are you okay?"
"Yes," she said, sending Lucas a glare through the corner of her eyes. "I'm just fine now that my babies are here."
"Are you sure?" Shelby asked as tears threatened to spill from her eyes.
"Yes, baby. Come here." She ushered her daughter into her arms, kissing the top of her head.
"I need some air," Lucas said, excusing him self.
"Luke," Haley called from the doorway but he just held his hands up in surrender as he continued down the hall, too frustrated to be in the room at that point. He loved her, and he understood after everything they had been through that she was going through a lot, but he needed her to know that he was there for her; he just needed her to know he loved her, and she was completely shutting him off.
"All I ever wanted was for you to know
Everything I do, I give my heart and soul
I can hardly breathe
I need to feel you here with me" When Your Gone- Avril Lavigne
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