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. 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 for you movie geeks, you might recognize one line in this chapter I don't wanna take credit for. It is taken from this little movie called Brokeback Mountain. Don't own either. A girl can only dream.

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

10. Ships That Pass In The Night

"Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing, only a signal shown, and a distant voice in the darkness; So on the ocean of life, we pass and speak one another, only a look and a voice, then darkness again and a silence."


-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Los Angeles, December 2017

"Knock- knock."

Brooke looked up from her computer screen to see David standing on the threshold to her office. She forced a smile, but only because it was him.

Today had been all kinds of suck.

"Hey."

The tone in her voice wasn't lost on him.

"Whoa. Cut back on the enthusiasm, woman!" With a boyish ease for a man of his age, David plopped down on her couch. "Everything okay?"

Brooke furrowed her brows. "Yeah, yeah I'm okay," she replied distractedly and gestured towards the screen. "It's just Lauren Greenbaum. I can't seem to find a publisher for her."

He pursed his lips in mock surprise. "Brooke Davis not able to close a deal? Say it ain't so." She knew that the fake slang paired with the clipped tones of his British accent was intended to make her smile and on any other day it would have worked.

"Stop it." Normally, Brooke very much enjoyed the banter and innuendo with David, even though he was a good ten years older than her. But not today. She hadn't achieved a high price in quite a while now and it unsettled her. She was this close to being considered as the next partner (Kurt Barrett was about to retire, talking of golf courses incessantly), but she needed a hit.

David, realizing his usual antics wouldn't cheer her up, tried a more serious and practical approach.

"What kind of novel is it? The usual bored and desperatehousewife writing about the horrors of single life?" David didn't really like chick-lit. He liked selling though, so it came with the territory to have some popular fiction women writers under contract.

She rolled her eyes at his snobbishness. "No, actually it isn't. It's the kind of book the critics would love. The kind even you might like." He smiled at the condescending tone in her voice. He knew she hated the pretentiousness of a lot of literature.

"I thought you didn't sell those, Brooke." She looked up to see the sly grin on his face and couldn't help but smile back, genuinely this time. David was not all that good looking, at least not in the L.A. kind of way. Sure he was attractive but it wasn't really something in his physique or face. On first appearance he was an average guy, neither especially tall nor especially slim. Yet he still had all the girls in the office pining away for him. Initially, Brooke hadn't been able to put her finger on it, but then she had spent more and more time with him and had come to realize that it was probably his kindness and his wit. David was charming and intelligent and he knew what he wanted and wasn't afraid of women who knew it, too.

And then of course there was his accent.

Now Brooke looked at him, trying to find the words to explain what made this book great in her eyes.

"It's not a boring novel if that's what you mean. It is kind of playing with the whole chick lit genre you know?"

"Okay, pitch it to me." David got up from the couch and sat down on the edge of her desk. It was this little ritual they had. Back in the day when Brooke had first started as a reader at Lieberman & Johnson, David had been sort of her mentor. He had been the first to realize what potential she really had, he had been the one to teach her the basics of the business and encouraged her to go with her gut feeling. He had also cheered her up when she'd thought she couldn't make it.

He believed in her. And when she had trouble selling something, he'd always told her to pitch the idea to him. In David's words, if Brooke could convince him to buy a chick lit novel, she could convince anyone.

"Sure." She got up from her own seat, straightened her pencil skirt and walked across the room. "Ok." She took a deep breath and David held back a chuckle when she seemed to grow a few inches. "This book is an unusual choice, a brave choice for a publisher. It's something bold and new and that's why it is the right book to be published at your house.

It's the intriguing story of a bunch of strangers living in the same city, discovering they're somehow connected. It's the story of a lost generation who learns to believe in dreams and wonders and fairytales again.

It has layers. It makes fun of the whole chick lit genre, in this post modern, funny way. It's full of pop culture reference. It's Lost meets Bridget Jones meets Six Degrees of Separation. It has mystery, romance, comedy, tragedy. But most of all it is sassy and fun. It's taking up current trends of nostalgia, bringing back that old feel of forties screwball comedies, the witty comebacks, the dialogue oozing from the page. It feels warm and good, like home cooked meals or hot chocolate on a cold winter night."

David watched Brooke, her animated face, her expressions, the sparkle in her eyes. She accompanied her words with gestures as enigmatic and energetic as her voice.

This was what she was born to do, inspire other people, to excite them, to draw them in. She knew what they wanted to hear.

"I'd buy it."

"Really?" Now that she had stopped pitching, she deflated a little, her mouth turning into that dimpled smile that would be his undoing.

"Really." He put his hand on her shoulder.

"Well I was pretty awesome, wasn't I?" She tilted her head to the side and her grin turned cocky. He shook his head and chuckled.

"You were. Now come on, Davis, I'll take you out to lunch and then you're going to call those publishers and tell them exactly what you told me."

Forty minutes later Brooke wiped up the last bit of creamy sauce with some bread and then looked up from her plate only to find David's eyes on her.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Come on, what is it?" She took a sip from her Chardonnay, her eyes still fixed on his. He smiled playfully.

"It's just- I'm amazed some women in this city actually still eat."

She smiled and shrugged, almost apologetically.

"I know. This kind of food would have been a total no go while I was still working with Neiman Marcus." She had weighed a good 20 pounds less then, way under the healthy limit for her height. "But then most of the girls there puked their guts out after lunch."

David was a little shocked. "Who did? The models?"

"Everyone. It was an all time competition. I had this girl working in my department and she went like a week on cotton balls." He looked confused. "You know, to still the hunger they eat cotton balls drenched with orange juice."

"That's vile."

"Yup. One of the many perks," Brooke sarcastically kinked her eyebrow. "Guess I don't fit in there anymore. Literally."

When she had first started to work in fashion she had tried to not let it get to her but eventually the pressure became too much. So much that she too had wondered if she could lose another size, maybe just drop a meal once in a while.

Back in high school she had never worried about her weight but this was L.A., a whole city full of successful, extremely skinny people. And the skinnier the more successful you were.

She looked down at her pencil skirt and pin striped blouse, hugging her Now she was back to her normal weight. She was curvier than she had been as a teenager but she liked it. Most of the time.

"Can I ask you something?" His voice was gentle and probing as if testing the waters.

"Sure."

"Why did you leave fashion, Brooke?"

She looked up into his grey eyes.

"I mean, you don't have to tell me or anything but-"

She gripped her wineglass for support. She had left this life behind almost two years ago but when she closed her eyes she could still smell the desperation, could still taste the fear of getting sucked in. Brooke had sworn to herself that she would never go back to it; to a life of deadlines and personal scrutiny, to a life where you had to be perfect to stay afloat, where people took all sorts of substances to chase something that wasn't even real. She had been one of those people. And right there in that moment the person she had used to be wasn't locked as far away as usual. She had her way of knocking once in a while.

She shook off the thoughts and looked up to see worry marked on David's face.

"Brooke I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked-"

"No, it's ok." She was quick to assure him. "It was…being there… it wasn't just a job you know? You learn pretty quickly that in order to survive you have to learn their ways or-" she paused, "or they make you. The make you into what the need you to be."

And in the process, they destroy your self esteem, she thought.

"I'm still sorry."

She shrugged. "Don't be. I left. It's ok now."

David, sensing her unease reached out for her hand on the white table cloth. When he touched her his palm on her hand felt so sturdy and reliable and utterly male.

"You're pretty amazing you know that?"

Suddenly the air was thick and heavy. She tried to break the tension by laughing it off. She was more than a little embarrassed. This was her boss, the one man she wanted to take her seriously.

"Stop it."

She attempted to pull her hand back but he didn't let her. It wasn't forceful, just gentle determination. He was nothing like Lucas and yet in that moment, he reminded her of him.

"No, I mean it." His voice was soft and earnest and she could feel his thumb drawing reassuring circles on the inside of her palm. "I can still remember the day when you first came into the office – all serious business in your suit and the high heels and you walked the floors like you owned the place," he chuckled. "Like a goddess."

She was surprised. "But you always used to tease me about it!"

Brooke could still see him standing in the hallway, grinning slyly. Whenever she had passed him between offices, her heels (she always wore heels) clicking on the dark marble, he had pressed himself against the wall in overdramatic fashion, feigning to be blown away by her presence. "Watch out, the bombshell's walking," he had mock-gasped, much to the delight of all her co workers.

"Brooke, that's because you looked so glorious! All the other girls in the office they are just blank and boring but you're a phenomenon."

She searched his eyes to see if he was still joking and was blown away by the seriousness in them. He had never hidden the fact that he liked her and was fond of her but this was different. He cleared his throat, squeezed her hand and then pulled away.

Damn you Davis, this is your boss.

Brooke picked up her glass and drank again, the cool white wine running smoothly down her throat calming her somewhat. Then David smiled again and suddenly she wasn't so sure if the warmth in the pit of her belly was all due to the Chardonnay.

Tree Hill, December 2017

When Lucas opened the front door it jammed on a large brown envelope that lay among the other mail in the hallway. He cursed under his breath, pulled it out from under the door and stepped into the eerily quiet house. He felt slightly annoyed that no one in the family had taken the time to gather the mail since he had left at seven this morning and it took him a moment to realize that both of them had not been home yet. Peyton was still at a meeting and Ellie was with his mom for the night.

Lucas sighed.

He hated coming home to an empty, dark house.

Walking down towards the kitchen he flicked on all the lights and retrieved a chilled beer from the fridge. He drank it in long, thirsty gulps, feeling the tension of the day ease a little. With a sigh he sat down at the kitchen table and ran a hand over his neatly cropped hair.

And then he caught sight of the paper.

"I'm home," Peyton shouted from the front door, shutting it with a well-placed kick.

"Lucas?" She walked down the hallway into the kitchen. "I brought some take out from the café, I'm starving. You'd think they'd feed us at these late meet-"

She stopped in her tracks when she spotted her husband standing next to the sink, letter in his hand.

"What is this?" Lucas' voice was remorseful.

Peyton's stomach clenched and she sighed. "Look, I wanted to tell you but with the way things are at the office and how swamped you were over at the garage there was never the right time…"

He held the letter out to her, and she took it from him.

"This is a job offer."

"It's a promotion. A reward for all the hard work I've put into the firm."

"But you already have a job."

Peyton snorted. He couldn't be serious could he? "As Drummond's assistant. I could be head of department in Chicago."

He grimaced. "Peyton, you are not honestly considering…"

The way he said it, the fact that he didn't even ask, that he merely stated what was obvious for him made her angry.

"It's a lot of money and it's a hell of a lot more responsibility than I have now! It's more than I could wish for with my kind of education. I don't have a degree, Lucas! I worked so hard to get where I am, so now to get this kind of opportunity-"

She hated how her tone had become all defensive. She hadn't done anything wrong.

"It's in Chicago."

"You act like it's the end of the world."

"It's. in. Chicago."

Peyton sighed. Lucas sat down at the kitchen table and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look, I'm glad for you and it's a great thing that you were offered this but you're going to have to tell them no."

"And why do I have to do that exactly?" He didn't hear the threat in her voice.

"Because… our life is here. My business is here. My mother is here."

"Did it ever occur to you that we could move? That we could start over? That you could work somewhere else? Why is your career more important than mine, Lucas? Wasn't it you who always wanted to get out of Tree Hill? You never wanted to stay here for the rest of your life!"

"Well things change, okay? And it's not that easy. Now we're here, now this is our home. And don't act as if you're the only one who had to sacrifice dreams for this. I gave up a career too, you know? I gave up academics to support this family. I gave up college because you were pregnant!"

Her expression turned to stone. When she spoke again her voice was cold and sniping.

"Funny, I thought you gave up college because you wanted to be with me. "

And with that, she left the room.

Later that night Lucas laid on the bed in the guest room, wondering where it all had gone wrong, wondering when life had become such a mess. And he wondered when or if it would ever be ok again.

And then for the first time in a long, long while he let himself think about Brooke. He wondered how she was and who she might be with and if she was happy. And he hoped that she was because she had not been when he had last seen her.

It had been the summer after the reunion, the summer Larry had taken Ellie and Peyton to visit Derek on his new base in France. It had been the summer he had gone to see her in L.A.

"Lucas?"

She stood in the doorway to her apartment. It was a lot less glamorous than in his imagination but she looked the same. He couldn't believe that she was right in front of him after it had taken him about twenty minutes to work up the courage to knock on her door.

"What are you doing here?" Her voice raised a few notches, in tandem with her anger. She couldn't believe the cheek of him. How could he just show up at her doorstep without as much as a call?

"My Mom gave me the address and-" He extended a hand with a small package. Like a peace offering. "I came to bring you this."

She ran an annoyed hand through her hair and ignored the parcel.

"But- but how?" Her eyes narrowed to suspecting slits. "Does she know you're here?"

She didn't have to say the name for Lucas to know who she meant."Larry took her and Ellie on a grand tour through Europe. They are visiting Derek." She nodded. He had sort of answered her question by not answering it. "So, are you…going let me in?"

She shook her head. "Look, I'm not sure this is a good idea–"

"Brooke, I drove 3000 miles to see you, and now you're not even going let me in?" He touched her arm and she flinched as if he had burnt her. Lucas knew he came across as desperate but he didn't care. "I wanted you to have this," he cleared his throat. "I- I needed you to have this."

He handed her the small parcel. She untied the string and un-wrapped the brown paper. Her eyes softened a little.

"Come in."

Of course she had known why he was there. And he had known it too. She wondered why after all this time it still seemed as if she had a choice when it came to Lucas Scott. Letting him in was the logic conclusion. Letting him in was just giving into the inevitable.

So they went inside and she made some coffee and poured him a cup to keep her hands occupied, but they shook a little when she touched the mug and they shook until he stilled them with his own. They were kissing before she could add the sugar (she wasn't even sure if that was how he still had his coffee) and they didn't leave her bedroom before sundown when the coffee had already turned cold.

A few hours later, Brooke woke up to the sound of his cell phone. She lay on her side pretending to be asleep when he answered it and talked to his ten year old daughter. She fought the waves of nausea engulfing her when he told Ellie that he loved and missed her.

And then he told her to be good for Mommy, and she made it just in time for the toilet bowl.

Lucas quickly finished the call and followed Brooke into the small bathroom. He found her hunched over the sink, rinsing her mouth. She looked up and there under the harsh, fluorescent bulb she didn't look quite as immaculate. The light was shining through her cracks and tears, tell tales of a woman that was broken. He wondered if that had been his doing. If those dark circles, the tiny blood vessels shining through the thin worn skin, her hollow eyes, her slumped posture, if that was him.

"We have to stop this." Brooke looked at him through the mirror. "I mean, look at me. I used to be…" Proud? Whole? Her unfinished words hung in the air, pulling out connotations of their own. She sighed and pushed her hair out of her face, her nostrils shivering slightly with the breath she took in again. "I used to be able to look into the mirror without wanting to throw up."

"Brooke, you know – you know I love you." He knew she could hear the begging in his voice.

"Yes," she said. It sounded like a verdict. "But you also love her. And I can't."

"Brooke, please." Lucas reached out to her, wanting to touch her, to keep her there, in this place, in this moment. If he didn't, she'd be gone.

He was almost surprised to find her skin warn and yielding underneath his fingers. He had expected it to be as cold as her voice and her demeanour.

"Lucas, why did you even come to L.A.?"

She wished he hadn't touched her. She wished he hadn't come here. It made everything so much more complicated. She had only just gotten her life together again. She had a new job. She had a shot at a new life but she had to get out before she would lose all respect for herself. Before she'd lose all respect for him. She only hoped she'd have the courage to do so.

"No, Lucas."

"But this…this is all we have. Do you really want to give that up? Give us up? It's all we can have."

She spun around, meeting his eyes directly. Her stare was no longer empty but filled with anger, rage even. It was as if she grew a few inches in mere seconds, the energy putting her out of proportion, making her larger than life.

Brooke felt the force of her own disappointment, her anger rising. It felt hot and steady and good. It made her feel alive.

"How can you say that? We could have had so much more!" It was an accusation and she was getting in his face and it felt oh-so-good. "We could have been happy! We could have…you could've -"

"Brooke, it's not that easy –"

Why was he always so damn resigned? He acted as if it wasn't even a decision to make and that riled her up to no end.

"Is that so? Or do you simply don't want it to be? You pretend there is no choice when you made that decision years ago! You always had a choice, Lucas! You still have it. You just don't realize." She grabbed the edge of the sink, hoping it would steady her and her voice. "Now, I have made my choice, that's true. But it doesn't mean I have to live with it for the rest of my life. I'm making a choice again, Lucas." Brooke looked into his shocked face. She just hoped her words would shake him out of his stupor. "And you know what? It's because I'm tired. I'm so fucking tired! I'm tired of hiding this, hiding us! I'm tired of leading half the life I deserve! You want us to continue this shabby act? You want this to become a habit? A weekend or two here or there? It's not enough."

She took a deep breath, looking into his eyes, bracing herself for the inevitable blow.

If it hadn't been so damn sad, she would have laughed about how cliché it all was. Instead, she choked back a dry sob. When she spoke again, her voice was soft. "But most of all, I'm tired of wanting you so damn much."

He looked at her and she blinked and he knew the rage was keeping her from crying. He saw the burning need in her eyes and he held his hand out, put it against her cheek. She leaned ever so slightly against his touch and then he grabbed her and kissed her like a drowning man and then he took her, hard and fast, right there against the bathroom wall. It was the act of two people too much in need of each other to take their time. And it also was an act of final mercy. He stifled her cries with his mouth, trying to remember her taste, the feel of her against his skin.

They satisfied a salvage demand for human contact, for warmth and intimacy, clinging to each other like strange creatures in a deep dark sea.

Afterwards she sat on the edge of the stained bath tub, the smoke of her cigarette pooling around her in heavy tendrils.

He didn't say 'I love you' because it wasn't needed and it wouldn't have been enough. Her face looked younger and reckless through the blurred haze, her jaw a single smooth set line flowing into a chin pinched out stubbornly. A closer look would have revealed that it was quivering with the need to repress tears she had long since cried, but her voice, her voice was free of any emotion.

"I wish I knew how to quit you."

And she just prayed to whatever God out there that he would give her the strength to do it.

"Lucas." He turned his head to find a dark figure standing in the doorway. It was Peyton. She hadn't switched on the lights so he could not really make out her face with the night around them but it was easier that way. "I think we should talk."

He nodded. She deserved more than this. Brooke had started a new life; at least he hoped she had. And it was time to do the same. He had a wife and a daughter and it was a wonder he hadn't already lost them. He couldn't bear to lose them. Not now.

"I know. Look Peyton, I'm sorry. I've been thinking… I know I haven't given us enough of a chance. And I'm sorry for that but I really want to try and start over–"

"I want that job." Her voice was steady and composed but he could still hear the traces of sadness.

"Look, it really is a great opportunity. We should consider all our options and all the consequences for you and me and for Ellie and then make the right decision for us. Together, okay?" He heard her sniffle and realized she was crying.

"I'm going to take it. I'm going to move to Chicago and I'm taking Ellie with me."

"What?" He rubbed his temples trying to understand what she was saying. "Look Peyton, it's true, I can work somewhere else. But I'd have to find a job first and sell the body shop and… it takes a lot of planning. It's two in the morning; let's talk about this tomorrow, okay?"

He heard her sob again and got up from the bed and wrapped his arms around her. She hesitated a little but then she hugged him back, clinging to his arms like a person drowning. Lucas kissed her cheek and then rested his head on her hair, breathing in her scent. "Shhh. Everything's going to be okay."

And he knew that he meant it.

She said something but it was muffled because she had her head pressed into the crook of his neck. She moved her face a little, her tear stained cheeks rubbing against his. When she spoke again, he understood her clearly.

"I think I want a divorce."

t.b.c.