Cold air scraped the leaves across the dry grass where she was standing, each individual leaf sounding like the death rattle of a mans last breath. The wind wasn't the balmy, smooth, humid afternoon wind that she had grown used to in Tree Hill; no, instead it was a harsh and bitter wind, full of hate and anger and death. It seemed fitting, she thought, that this place had an angry, bitter atmosphere. But looking down, Karen saw the one thing that reminded her that this world had some good in it, that it was not just the cruel, unkind world that wrenched humans so thoughtlessly from life and flung them somewhere else, like it had with Keith.
Lily Roe stood holding her mother's leg, and Karen smiled sadly. Her usually outgoing and brave daughter had crumbled before Keith's grave, not understanding the full situation but knowing that she would never see her father. That was what hurt Karen the most. The thought that her beautiful daughter would never know her father, never feel his smile or see his face or echo his laughs on late nights. Keith had been unfairly torn from this world by the one person he trusted the most, even if he didn't show it.
"Karen." She recognized the voice instantly. It had a rough, gravelly tone but still betrayed a hint of the sly, cunning man Dan had once been.
Karen didn't even turn around, but protectively pushed Lily behind her, shielding her from Dan. "Leave, Dan. You've no business here."
"Just paying my respects."
Karen turned at this, her tortured face showing signs of controlled fury. "You don't deserve to be here. You wouldn't even be paying respects if Keith were still alive, you bastard. Stay the hell away from us."
Dan looked off to side, angling his head away, as if he had been slapped. But his face still turned back, displaying that scheming look that Karen had been so accustomed to.
"Us?" He leaned down to Lily, who was peering out from behind her mother's legs. "Hi," Dan said, adopting a child-appropriate voice, "I'm your Uncle Dan. What's your name?"
Karen put a hand protectively in front of Lily, but to no avail. Lily just peeked out once more and told Dan somewhat meekly, "I'm Lily."
Dan, satisfied, straightened up to meet Karen's face. Looking her straight in the eye, he said, "Well, Lily, won't we have so much fun…" Karen grabbed Lily's hand.
"Let's go, Lily, come on." Lily didn't object, and allowed herself to be led back to the car. She stole one glance back at Dan, who just smiled and waved.
"Bye Lily," he said softly.
Mouth wandered about the rooms of the news room, idly looking for something to do. He passed the small booth where he and Millicent had first watched the Russian Ballet, essentially their first date. They had been together ever since. Just the thought of that day made Mouth smile, made the dark workplace brighten a little. He could even hear her voice—
"Marvin?"
"Yeah, Mill?" Mouth said, sweetly carrying on a conversation with day-dream Millicent.
"Marvin?"
"What is it?" Mouth's eyes were closed in bliss.
"MOUTH!"
End of bliss.
"Look, sir, I'm really sorry, I was just day-dreaming!" Mouth futilely followed his angry boss around. While Mouth had been dreaming, his boss had been demanding Mouth get them the necessary papers for the sports newscast today, as well as the tapes.
"Slacking is not tolerated here, especially when you are calling me Milli!"
Mouth had a surprisingly difficult time suppressing a grin at that comment, but thankfully the boss was searching around in his desk. "Look, Sir, I was just—"
"Mouth, sorry to interrupt, but who was the most recently drafted into college high school player around here?"
Mouth didn't even turn around before he told the guy, "Nathan Scott, to Maryland college after being accepted into Carolina State from Tree Hill High." Mouth's answer was automatic and monotone, as if it required little thought. The man nodded and scrambled out of the room. The boss looked up at Mouth from his chair.
"Son, how did you know that automatically?"
Mouth shrugged. "I just did. One, Nate went to my high school, and I also keep up with most college sports."
"And, you announced at your high school, right?"
"Yep."
The boss looked at Mouth with newfound… admiration, wonder, curiosity? Mouth decided to go with the last one. The boss definitely looked interested in something.
Hey, bitch, I sent you money back; How come you don't return my calls? Unless you are hooking up with hot bartender, or Lucas, or the new guy of the week. Definitely don't call me then… See ya, skank!
Brooke smiled at the message and saved it. She hadn't seen or talked to Rachel in over four months, not since Victoria had kicked Rachel out.
It was almost dark, and Brooke was laying on the chaise lounge watching Jamie swim. It had been a bit of a challenge getting him into the pool, but he finally jumped in on the second day of Brooke's babysitting stint, and he had yet to get out.
"Hey, Jamie, how about we get out now and have something to eat? Maybe we can call your Aunt Peyton!"
Once inside, Brooke was on her way to call Peyton, who she hadn't seen since Monday, and it was now Wednesday. But as she got near the phone, it started ringing.
"I got it!" Jamie called from the kitchen, grabbing the extension. "Hi," he said, and continued to supplement the conversation with more monosyllable answers. "Good…no…yes. You should!" After saying a quick good-bye, Brooke watched him hang up the receiver.
"Who was that?"
Jamie froze. "Uhh, Uncle Lucas,"
"Really. What did he say?"
"He just asked how I was doing, and if I had picked out my toy yet from the toy store, and then whether he should take me to the store tomorrow to give you a break." Jamie shrugged and walked very stiffly to the stairs before running up them as fast as he could.
Well that was weird, but ok. Lucas is so sweet for checking in, Brooke thought as she prepared dinner.
Lucas clicked his iPhone off, ending the call with Jamie, laughing about Jamie's quick, strange answers. But then again, they weren't that strange for a four-year old.
"Hey Jamie, how are you?"
"Good."
"Are you being good?"
"No," he had giggled.
"Really? Do I have to come over there and teach you a lesson?" Lucas said this last part as gruffly as he could.
This is where Lucas was surprised. Jamie, who usually recognized that Lucas was just kidding, said, "Yes. You should!"
And after a few more exchanges that didn't concern anything in particular, Lucas ended the call with an ,"Ok, I'm going to come over right before bed and follow up on that since you weren't good. See you later Jamie."
"Bye Uncle Lucas!"
Not three seconds after Lucas sat down to eat before checking Brooke and Jamie, his phone started ringing again. He listened to a few lines of his favorite Dashboard Confessional song before picking it up.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Luke, what's up?" Peyton's voice came burbling over the line.
"Hey, Peyt, how are you?" Lucas felt genuinely sorry about the airport incident, and he was trying to be nicer.
"Nothing much, I'm doing well. I just wanted to call and see if you were doing anything tonight…"
Lucas glanced at his watch. 6:45. "Actually, Peyton, I was going over to see Jamie and Brooke tonight. But I'll come see you tomorrow, maybe we can hang out," he offered pleasantly after hearing the disappointment in her voice.
"Alright," Peyton sighed, falling back onto her bed. Lucas had just declined her invitation to have dinner with her. Staring in the mirror as they said good-bye, Peyton began changing out of the fancy new top she had bought for tonight, and instead threw on an old pair of sweats and a tank-top, resigning herself to a lonely night.
For a few minutes after the call, Peyton replayed it. He had said something about meeting Brooke and Jamie, she hadn't really been paying attention. So much for Brooke "Not having feelings for him", Peyton told herself bitterly as she dug into a carton of ice cream. She'd have to talk to Brooke.
"Ok, McFadden, you've got the 7'oclock shift for sports," came his boss's clear-cut voice. Mouth jumped up. He hadn't been sleeping, but now he felt like it because the state he had been in before that announcement had put mouth into such a state of alertness that any form of sleep seemed impossible.
"R-really? Thank you," Mouth stammered, shaking the boss's hand in a state of disbelief.
The newscast was due to start in ten minutes, so Mouth immediately ran off to prepare a short report in addition to the teleprompter, as requested by his boss.
"In conclusion, we have the Celtic FC vs. Manchester United soccer in the UEFA Cup, with the Boston Celtic and San Antonio Spurs home for the NBA championship," Mouth said to himself as he typed.
"Mouth, five minutes!"
"Alright, alright!" Mouth quickly finished his report and printed it, before make-up swarmed him.
"Three minutes till we're live!"
Mouth rushed from make-up as soon as they many women released him. Smoothing his shirt, he nervously made his way to the director.
"Alright, son, we'll be up in the booth, you know the drill, read off the teleprompter, your report, whatever. Just keep it interesting and don't screw up!"
Before he even knew that time had passed, Mouth was seated at the desk, anxiously strumming his fingers on the desk, waiting for the anchor to finish. That is, he was strumming his fingers until he looked up into the booth, where they were all waving at him and motioning for him to stop. Mouth realized that the microphone was picking up almost every sound he was making, and the drumming probably sounded like a thunderstorm.
That was when the nervousness hit him. Somehow, the thought that everything he did, every movement, every mistake would be totally recorded and played to a huge audience, somehow that thought worked it's way into his head and overwhelmed everything else.
"And now we have Marvin McFadden with sports. Marvin?"
Mouth cleared his throat, which had suddenly become dry. "Well, uh, we have… Oh, thank you, Jack. In local news, we have the Tree Hill Ravens without their star player. Q, I mean, Uh, Quentin, Quentin Fields has broken his hand, leaving the Ravens without a shooting guard. In his recent, well, since he hurt his hand, the team, the Raven's have dropped several, uh, p-p-places, and uh—" Mouth looked upwards, and the tenseness within him grew. The several people in the booth were all shaking their heads, and Mouth could see words forming on his boss's lips. Cut it, switch back to Jack ASAP.
"Uh, we also have the—" Just then the studio door opened.
Millicent came walking in, a genuine smile on her face. Mouth had called her while typing his report, and she had said that she would be there as soon as she could. His stomach twisted when he saw her, but in the good way. Noticing that Mouth was looking at her, Millicent smiled and waved, giving him the thumbs up. Mouth's breath caught in his chest as he turned back to the teleprompter.
"We also have many local colleges scouting their incoming players, as well as NBA teams scouting player's for their respective teams for the 2012 season. In fact, the NBa championships are coming up, a battle between the San Antonia Spurs and Boston Celtic. Going international, we have the UEFA cup this weekend, and it will be a great showing between to of Europe's great teams, the Glasgow Celtic FC (no relation to the Boston Celtic) and Manchester United. Back to you, Jack."
Mouth looked away from the teleprompter, ignoring the men in the booth and instead turning to Millicent when he was sure the camera was no longer on him.
Thank you, he mouthed.
"Jamie, let's go, it's time for bed," said Brooke, switching off the news and turning to Jamie who was drawing at the table. "Whatcha drawing?"
"Nothing," Jamie told her covering the art with his arm. "You can't see it. It's not finished yet."
"Well, you're going to have to finish it tomorrow, because you gotta go to bed. It's almost nine."
Jamie looked up at her with innocent eyes. "Promise you won't look?"
Brooke sat down on her heels to get eye-level with Jamie. "How about you go hide it somewhere, and I won't look for it. Then you can go put on your PJ's and we can talk for a while." She didn't know what prompted her to say that, but Brooke felt that it would be interesting to talk to her godson.
"OK, but don't look where I hide it!" Jamie jumped off the chair and ran off, drawing in hand as Brooke put the markers away. She sat down at the table, looking around the big, empty house. It was cold, but it seemed…different…without Nathan and Haley. Unfamiliar. Alien. She was beginning to miss them, and it seemed the less Jamie thought about his parents, the more Brooke did. It wasn't as if she was lonely without them, everything just felt different. Was she regretting sending them on vacation? No. Was she going to call them to come home, or even just to talk to them? Definitely not on the first one, and she would only interrupt them if Jamie wanted to call.
"Brooke, I hid it and I'm getting my pajamas on now!" called Jamie from his bedroom. Brooke smiled, thinking of the sweet and innocent boy upstairs. He was just like Lucas was when Brooke first met him; Lucas had been sweet, genuine, and naïve to the charms of Brooke and the world of the popular. That is, until I corrupted him, Brooke thought with a grin that she hadn't felt grace her face for a long time, the famous Brooke Penelope Davis smirk.
"Ok, Jamie, I'm coming up!" She found Jamie already sitting on his bed, under the covers.
"What story are you going to tell me?"
Brooke froze. Story? She was supposed to tell him a story? Where was that in the job application? "Uh, how about we just— talk?"
"Ok, Aunt Brooke."
It was over an hour later when Jamie's eyelids began to droop. An hour of questions about high school, which Brooke had mainly avoided; questions about C/B, which she gladly answered, and other random questions. She answered with questions about his school life, and his favorite things. Somehow, they had gotten into a lengthy discussion about Chester. By then it was ten o'clock, and Brooke made to quietly exit the room as Jamie was falling asleep. But Jamie voiced one last question.
Lucas opened the door quietly with the key that was always under the mat. He knew Jamie must be in bed by now, and he just wanted to see Brooke to see how everything was going. "Brooke?" He spoke gently into the soft, inviting darkness of the first floor. "Brooke?" the darkness seemed a separate entity, a living, breathing being that reminded him of his dream… he was climbing the rope, getting closer. Closer? That was a new feeling… or maybe one he just hadn't experienced in a long time…
He padded silently up the stairs, trying to be as quiet as possible. He felt that he needed to be noiseless for more than just the fact that Jamie was sleeping. Something… he got to the corner, right
before the open door of Jamie's room, listening in on their conversation after he heard a particularly interesting question.
"Brooke, what happened to Owen?"
Jamie was suddenly awake. Not alert, just awake, and not nearing a form of sleep. Brooke heaved a small mental sigh, though not entirely out of frustration. She didn't want to talk about this, not right now.
But she knew he probably wouldn't drop it unless she explained at least part of it to him.
"Well, Owen and I— we didn't work out," Brooke tried to leave it at that, but Jamie's curiosity got the best of him.
"Why not?"
Broke busied herself with something on Jamie's dresser, trying to avoid the question. She didn't like sharing this side of herself, the side that could be so easily exploited and attacked. Even if it was just Jamie, it was a default reaction to any sort of revealing conversation. Either avoiding the question, or making a joke, or flat out lying. It was almost involuntary, Brooke had done it so much.
But she couldn't lie to Jamie.
"We just— he wasn't – couldn't be— the man I would always be in love with…" Brooke seemed to say this to herself, more of a realization than a comment.
"Who do you love?"
It is the innocence of children that seem to bring out the best in us. Their trusting, their loyalty, their wide, adoring eyes. It is this that adults so often crumble at, spilling their thoughts and feelings as if under the influence of drink. Children have that quality that so many strive for, but are never able to achieve, unable to imagine youth in its purest form once they are past the age. It is those who can feel this emotion that are truly whole.
It was a quote Lucas had once showed her from a book, and Brooke thought it strange that the thought was coming back to her now.
"Brooke, who is it?" Jamie asked again, leaning in, and for a second Brooke was pleasantly reminded of high school, someone leaning in for the next piece of gossip.
"Jamie—"
Outside Lucas leaned in as well. He knew Brooke usually concealed her feelings, but to the extent of liking—loving— someone and no one else knowing about it, that was what was strange to Lucas. He had always known Brooke to be straightforward.
"Jamie, I—" But the sight of those innocent eyes made Brooke melt. Spilling their thoughts and feeling as if under the influence of drink, right? Brooke thought. "You can't tell anyone, alright?" Brooke felt strange confiding in a four-year old, but it felt good somehow to release all of this.
"I promise," said Jamie, holding up his pinkie. Brooke smiled and hooked her pinkie around his.
Brooke heaved another sigh and a faraway look came over her eyes. "It's your uncle. It's Lucas Scott…"
Lucas's breath caught in his chest outside.
Rooftops and Invitations
The first time you looked
At her curves you were hooked
And the glances you took
Took hold of you
And demanded that you stay
Sunk in their teeth,
Bit you hard and released
Such a charge that you need
Another touch
Another taste
Another fix
She just might get you lost
And she just might leave you torn
But she just might save your soul
If she gets you if she
Gets you any closer
She leads you up
Points out skylines and stars
Steeplechases and bars
And took your keys
And demanded that you stay
The city longs well for
Rooftops and invitations
All lace and secret places
She moves you to touch
With her hands
And she just might get you lost
And she just might leave you torn
But she just might save your soul
If she gets you any closer
Under the cool sheet
Where the welcome touch
Of skin and skin will meet
But on the inside
Where the girls prize
Is at the tip of your tongue
Where every move and each impulse
Brings clarity
To stay like this
Is everything
You'll ever need
She just might get you lost
And she just might leave you torn
But she just might save your soul
If she gets you any closer
She just might get you lost
And she just might leave you torn
But she just might save your soul
If she gets you any closer
Can you believe your eyes?