Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who reviewed. Thank you to everyone who took the time to tell me what especially they liked and what they didn't like. This chapter is really about Brooke finding her way back into normal life after what happened with Lucas. But for all you B/L deprived people out there (I know, me too) there'll be a little candy in the middle of it (watch out for the flashback…

Thank you Tej for your help and assurance. This was a hard chapter to write and you gave me the confidence to post this.

Thank you Sarah for being just Sarah. You are crazy and I am crazy and together we keep each other sane.

This one is for all the B/L girls. I'm sorry you had to wait, but it's extra long!

Disclaimer: I don't own them, so don't sue. I own neither the quotes in this chapter nor any of the characters, except Ellie who you guys haven't seen much of lol and this new character by the name of Sarah. If you guys are from the B/L thread you might see some resemblance with a good friend of mine...chuckles. Oh and I made Confessions of a Chocaholic up. If there is a book by that name, I don't own it either.

Flashbacks are as always in Italics.

If you could let me know what you think, good and bad, constructive criticism is always appreciated.

On to the good stuff…

9. The Open Road

"He who chooses the beginning of a road chooses the place it leads to. It is the means that determine the end. "
- Harry Emerson Fosdick

"Every beginning is only a sequel, after all, and the book of events is always open halfway through."
- Wislawa Szymborska

Los Angeles, California, February 2017

"Sorry!"

Brooke rushed towards her upset-looking boss ready to give an out-of-breath apology. It was the afternoon rush, she was twenty minutes late for her shift and even at best times, Harriet's mood could only be described as pretty grumpy.

Her presence was only acknowledged by a bad tempered bellow of: "I don't want to hear your excuses; just grab a tray and go!"

Ahh. Bad mood and stress had probably caused Harriet to go into manager auto- pilot, which was fine with Brooke. She knew she'd get her rant later when her boss would actually have time for telling off her employees but she was glad for small mercies. She ran towards staff room, thrusting the door open with her shoulder while trying to peel off her evil, resisting jacket. Once inside, Brooke put on her uniform and pulled her hair out of her face with the help of an elastic band she had managed to retrieve from the depths of her handbag.

It was a Ferragamo model from two seasons ago, when she had still had a job with the benefit of swiping goodies and giveaways like handbags, sunglasses or even an entire gown. Back when she had still worked as a personal shopper and stylist for one of the most prestigious agencies in L.A. Back when she had still been off her face for most of the time she was awake.

No, designer goodies were a little out of reach now, what with her small salary from The Coffee and the Bean. It wasn't much, but it got her by. And it meant that she was around normal people, which she was grateful for.

Even if it was grumpy Harriet.

Brooke adjusted her vest with the golden bean logo stitched on the front, threw her bag into her locker and stepped out of the staff room. She made her rounds as usual and for the next two hours she was busy making coffee, wiping tables and countertops, collecting empty dishes, refilling sugar dispenser and tending to other small matters. After a while, business began to slow down and Brooke found a moment to plop down into one of the big, velvety love chairs. She blew the bangs out of her face and allowed herself to close her eyes.

Heaven.

"Ahem." She was cruelly ripped out of her daydream when she heard someone clear their throat.

Crap. Harriet had found her. On the clock but obviously not working. This was about to get ugly.

But when Brooke opened her eyes, she was surprised to not find her angry boss but a more friendly, albeit familiar face.

"Sarah!"

She got up and pulled the other woman into a hug and was greeted just as warmly.

"Brooke! Ahh it's so good to see you! I was just walking down Cooper and I thought I'd pop in to see if you were here."

When she saw her friend's sympathetic smile, Brooke immediately felt better. Sarah was one of the few people in L.A. that had stuck with her through the last few months. When she had come to the city eight years ago, the tall woman with the copper hair and contagious smile had lived next door to her and they had quickly forged a bond. On first appearance the two women didn't seem to have a lot in common. Sarah was much more down-to-earth than Brooke, much calmer and liked L.A. rather for its good theatres and museums than its nightclubs, bars or boutiques, but they did a lot of things together.

In a city full of crazy people, it had been a relief for Brooke to have someone normal to do normal stuff with. Hang out with. It was Sarah she called when she had a bad day, it was Sarah who she spent her lazy nights with, sitting on the couch, watching Prison Break reruns, eating ice cream and painting each others toe nails. They shared a love for Wentworth Miller, Joshua Jackson and caramel filled doughnuts and for Brooke, that made them best friends.

But most of all it had been Sarah who had helped her after she had left fashion industry and who had had her back. And if there was one thing Brooke appreciated in a friend, it was that. Deeply in thought, her friend's voice ripped her out of her stupor.

"Are you okay, Brooke? You look tired. Bad day?"

"Harriet is in one of her moods." Brooke scrunched her nose. "That woman is PMSing 24/7."

"Pfft. Superiors. They are the text book definition of royal pain in the ass."

"Trouble with the bosses?" Brooke asked empathically.

Sarah shrugged. "Nah. It just sucks that in order to become a partner myself I have to suck up to the existing partners. Sometimes I want to just tell them to fuck off."

Brooke laughed but she knew Sarah was only joking. Her friend loved her job as a literary agent; she was ambitious and knew what she wanted. She had slowly worked her way up to the top and was a now a senior agent at Lieberman & Johnson, one of the most prestigious author representing agencies on the west coast. She had several bestselling writers under contract and could afford much more than the one bedroom apartment she had lived in when Brooke had first met her.

Sarah was also the only one who knew what had happened last summer with Lucas at the reunion. She hadn't judged her but Brooke had seen the weariness in her eyes, the same sense of guilt Brooke had felt ever since.

"Well your bosses can't be as bad as mine."

They looked over to see Harriet having a go at the newbie for selling a costumer decaf instead of the normal stuff.

Sarah chuckled. "Seems like it. How about dinner at my place? Tonight? Nothing than a little Sarah to cheer you up."

"You're my friend and I love you but…," Brooke smiled wickedly, "you can't cook."

The red head shrugged. "Substitute the word 'dinner' with a take out from the Wong Brothers. Same difference."

"What about Michael?" Sarah's boyfriend lived with her and they were every inch the happily married couple. Apart from being married, of course. Brooke got on very well with both of them, especially now, since they had left the sickly-sweet phase.

"He's watching the lame game with his lame friends tonight and I'll be lonely."

"So I'm just a fill in?" Brooke fake pouted while preparing Sarah her tall non-fat caramel latte.

"Nah, darling. Don't be silly. You know I love you."

"I don't know. I would have to have a look at my extremely busy schedule first. "

Sarah picked up her belongings and grabbed the coffee from Brooke's hands.

"Be there at seven," she began walking towards the door, talking over her shoulder.

"Why seven?"

"'Dawson's Creek' marathon starts at eight and I can't take whiny Joey without you. Oh, and bring some chocolate!"

"There you are!" Brooke was pulled into the apartment by a flustered looking Sarah clad in only a bathrobe. "Can you go into the living room and wait there? You know where the remote is and there's money for the take out guy on the coffee table. I just need to shower real quick!"

Brooke looked surprised. "Why? We're not going out, are we?"

"No, I'm just all sweaty."

"It's 50 degrees."

"So?"

"It's cold outside. How did you get all sweaty? You never work out."

"I didn't. Not like that anyway." Sarah blushed and Michael came into the room, buttoning his shirt up.

"Oh, hi Brooke! You're here already. How's it going?"

"Hi." Brooke darted her eyes from one to the other, a wicked smile forming on her face. "Nothing than a little cardio before the football, right Mike?"

Michael looked confused. "Um, yeah, sure. Well I better get going."

He looked at Sarah who was trying hard not to laugh.

"You do that. See you later, babe."

"You girls have fun." He kissed her goodbye and waved towards Brooke and then he was gone.

The second the door was closed both women broke out in fits of giggles and Sarah slapped Brooke on the shoulder.

"Cardio? You had him all confused!"

"Come on, he could have caught on that! And what about you? Marking your territory before he leaves the house?"

"What? No!" Sarah tried to act all innocent and failed miserably because her facial expression was more on the smug side.

Brooke slapped her on her behind. "Go and shower, you saucy minx!"

"That okay with you?"

"Sure. I know where everything is."

"Okay. See you in ten."

When Sarah was gone, Brooke walked into the living room. Upon seeing the cluttered coffee table, she shook her head. Tidiness wasn't really one of Sarah's or Michael's qualities. Scattered throughout the small but cozy living room were several manuscripts and other paper work.

Brooke plopped down on the couch and tried to find the remote under the mass off paper. Then a title caught her eye.

"Confessions of a Chocaholic" by Miranda Holland.

Probably one of those manuscripts Sarah got send everyday by some aspiring writer in hope she would represent him and get it published. She looked towards the bathroom door. Sarah would surely take another 20 min and she had to wait for the take out guy so… Brooke opened the manuscript and started reading.

When Sarah came back later she found her friend not as expected in front of the T.V. but deeply engrossed in one of the manuscripts she got all the time. The kind that would end up in the junk sooner or later. She did not actually read all the stuff sent to her, she had readers for that. The agents didn't have time to do that. But whenever a reader found something more promising, it would get forwarded to her. Reading and deciding if these selected manuscripts really had the potential to become a selling book was her job.

"What are you reading?"

Brooke looked up from the page, finding her friend standing there, a bemused expression on her face.

"What?" She challenged.

Sarah shrugged. "Nothing. It's just…I don't think I've ever actually seen you read."

"That's not true! I read all the time!"

This comment earned Brooke a condescending pat on the head from her friend. "Vogue and In Touch doesn't really count."

"Whatever." Brooke tried to act insulted but failed. "This is very good though," she said, pointing at the bulk of pages in her lap.

"Is it?" Sarah sat down next to Brooke on the couch and flipped the manuscript over to read the title.

She scrunched up her nose, the freckles twisting into a frown.

"Brooke, that's total chick-lit!"

"So?"

"It's pure escapism." Sarah elaborated. "If you consider books food, this is the candy junk food kind of version of literature. Lieberman & Johnson is more interested in high brow, artsy stuff."

Brooke scrunched up her nose in disgust. "You mean the kind of books critics love-" Sarah nodded. "- but no one buys? I mean, I know you're all I'm representing the guy who won the Poolacer Price-"

"Pulitzer Price," Sarah corrected.

"Whatever. I don't know a lot about literature, but I know a thing or two about selling. See this," she waved with the manuscript, "is the kind of thing that will sell like gold dust. It's Sex and the City meets Bridget Jones meets Cinderella. It's this post-feminist modern crap 'every girl deserves a knight in shining armour.' It's fun and it's such a light read that even I would pick it up."

Sarah laughed. "Did you just say post-feminism?"

Brooke shrugged. "I might have paid attention once or twice in that sociology class."

Sarah ran her fingers through her long copper hair and stared long and hard at her friend.

"You know, maybe you're right. As it happens at the latest meeting, the partners said something about moving into mass market and winning over more female orientated clients. Young, professional lonely single women are the fastest growing consumer group…"

"You mean women like me?"

"Oh not women like you, Brooke! I mean the kind of women who think everything will work out as soon as they've found Mr. Right."

Brooke smiled sadly. She had learned that lesson a long time ago, learned that it wasn't enough to love and be loved back, that it took a whole lot more than that.

"No, I'm definitely not one of those."

"I love you."

The words blurt out of her on their own accord, ripping away her last guard. He had hurt her, he had betrayed her, and so had she but in that moment, it didn't matter. All she could think about was how much she loved that boy standing in front of her, how much grace and beauty he had in that single moment where he had chosen to rise above himself and forgive her.

He had said that it was ok. She wasn't sure how it could be but he had said it.

He found her eyes and stared at her. Caught off guard by her openness, boldness he looked surprised, a little shocked even. When he answered it was a kind of wonder for Brooke, even more so than the fact that he forgave her. She knew she'd never forget this moment when he said those three words to her; the words which aeons of bad poetry and abuse and false romance have worn out but which still haven't lost all their magic. And he said them with a voice that made it clear he had thought his sentiment had been self-evident all along. That he was only speaking out the obvious.

"I love you too."

The words fell and with their sincerity they were like a promise, like a contract. The universe shrunk and condensed until it was only the two of them; nothing would ever take that moment from her.

She saw the tears in his eyes and he stepped closer and touched her cheek, only ever so slightly.

"Pretty girl."

In his face was nothing but certainty.

Somewhere deep inside her chest, a weight lifted. It was something buried and hidden and denied and it opened and unfolded its wings and came to the surface and left her throat as a sob. He pulled her towards her and she moved into him and then she cried a little more but it didn't matter because her salty tears ran down her cheeks and mingled with his and she could taste them on his lips.

Brooke was not a religious person but when he kissed her she founds his words to be true, as if her sins were just washing away by his grace and absolution. Kissing him there in that moment she realized forgiveness for Lucas Scott was not an abstract concept. Being with him, she could grasp it; she could taste its sweet honey on his lips and feel it under her fingers.

"Hey? You okay?" Sarah inquired worriedly. "You look like you were a thousand miles away."

She had stopped skimming through the manuscript to find Brooke completely lost in thought.

"Um yeah," Brooke answered, shaking off the memories.

Sarah still looked a little concerned. "You sure?"

Brooke smiled. The girl who had believed in love as her salvation was long gone. She had grown up. "It's alright, I was just thinking. So how about that 'Dawson's Creek' marathon? Nothing like a little teen drama to forget your own!"

A week later, a good fifteen minutes into a Lost rerun, Brooke's phone rang. As she was ripped out of admiring Matthew Fox shirtless, (seriously, how hot could a 40-something guy get?) her voice was a little more than cranky. That and she figured it was probably Harriet, calling her to do an extra shift.

"What?"

"Brooke!"

"Sarah?"

"Okay, first of all, you sound all kinds of rude and secondly…Brooke, oh my god, I have amazing news!"

"Michael proposed to you?"

"What? No-"

"Cause if it isn't something drastic and major like he proposed to you or your long lost twin has come to town then I'd really rather go back to watching Lost than…"

"Did he say anything to you?"

"What? Who?"

"Michael! Does he want to propose to me?" Sarah's usually medium pitched voice turned up a few notches. "Oh my god, have you like bought a ring together and you know that he's going to do it and that's why you asked and now he's chickening out or he's made up his mind or-"

"Sarah!" Brooke cut in. "Sarah, my friend, sunshine of my life, calm down for Christ's sake! No, Michael hasn't said anything to me and we haven't gone out and bought you a ring but I'm sure he loves you and you're going to get married eventually, okay? So, I love you and I'd love to talk to you but can I just call you back in an hour? Lost is on and…"

"No, no, wait Brooke! There's really something I have to tell you, like now!"

Brooke sighed. Sarah wasn't to be stopped and the sooner she gave in, the sooner the conversation would be over.

"Ok, what is it? But I swear to you Sarah, if it's only something like you think you've seen Adam Brody on Sunset again, I swear, I'm going to kill you!"

"Brooke, do you honestly think I'd call you during Lost for something like that? No, this is way better! I got you a job!"

"What? Hun, I already have a job."

"A job that you hate."

Brooke couldn't argue with that, so she kept silent, waiting for Sarah to elaborate.

"Well on Monday I went straight to Henry Johnson at the agency and pitched this manuscript to him, you remember? He said I could give it a try and see if I could get a publisher to buy it. So I sent it to several editors I thought might be interested in it and waited for their offers. Guess what?"

"What?" Brooke was getting a little excited. "Did you sell it?"

She didn't really know all the details about Sarah's work but she knew that as an agent, her job was to sell the work of an author at the highest possible price to a publisher who would then in turn make it into a book. A percentage of the sale went to Sarah as payment for representing the author. The higher she sold something, the more money she got herself.

"Not only did I sell it Brooke." Sarah's voice was triumphant. "Guess for how much!"

"Um, I don't know? Thirty thousand?" Brooke new that most books sold for a lot less and then the agency and author had in turn to hope for the royalties. The better deals closed around five figures, but they were rare.

"I sold this baby for 1.1 million dollars! That is the highest deal anyone has been able to close at the agency this year! You might have just made me a partner, Brooke!"

Brooke was speechless.

"Brooke, aren't you going to say something? This is huge! And you know what I realized? You got that killer instinct. You may not be the literary type but you recognize a best selling product when you see one."

"You think?"

"Brooke, I've known you for years now, we've lived together. You are just one of those people who recognize trends before others do. Which is exactly what I told David by the way."

"Who is David?"

"Remember that dark haired Brit from our Christmas party last year? The one who insisted on dancing with you? He's our junior partner. He offered you a job!"

Brooke vaguely remembered a normal sized man in his early forties with a contagious smile and a very cute accent.

"I don't know. Me working at a literary agency?"

"Brooke, I know it sounds weird at first but think about it! The firm really wants to go more into the popular sector with a focus on contemporary women novels. You'd be perfect! You know trends; you know the tastes of women between 18 and 35. You've been buying and selling for that age group for years, only the product will be a different one!"

Brooke was starting to get a little excited, too. She had hoped to find something where she could bring in her natural talents, the coffee shop was only something to make ends meet. But another job with the fashion industry was out of the question. The lifestyle and the people would break her again. Maybe this was an option? Maybe Sarah was right? She could sell, right? She could convince people of a product, it's what she had done for years. She could organize; she had a knack for trends and upcoming fashions.

"So, what would I do? Would I be an agent, like you?"

"You'd start as a reader. But basically you'd be some agents' assistant. You'd look through potential manuscripts and if something is promising, you give it in the hands of an agent and he'd close the deal. But if it turns out you're good at the job you can become an agent and even partner later on. I started as a reader, too."

Brooke was quiet for a moment. Sarah grew a little anxious on the other end of the line.

"Brooke? You don't have to do it but they'd pay better than your current job and I know you're not really into reading all that much but it wouldn't be highbrow material. You'd also be involved in the pitching work, trying to sell certain books to certain publishers. It's really all about finding the right product and making it look good."

Brooke choked back the tears. "Thank you Sarah. Thank you so much for everything you've done. Of course I'll take it."

"Don't thank me, chica. This was all you. When I told them you'd discovered Confessions of a Chocaholic first, they wanted you. Conveniently one of our readers just left so you could start next week."

Now Brooke smiled. "I'd like that."

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t.b.c.