When Mouth and Millicent came into Clothes Over Bros that night, they found Brooke asleep on the lounge. "Oh boy," said Mouth, picking up the two empty ice cream tubs and the couple alcohol bottles, "Brooke's hurting. You don't want to see her when she's in one of these moods."

Millicent giggled slightly. "Oh I have, believe me."

Mouth smiled before becoming more serious. "What do you think we should do, though? I mean, you have to lock up, and we can't leave her here. Plus we have those eight o'clock reservations," Mouth reminded her.

Millicent was indecisive. But before she had a chance to respond, the door opened, and they turned to see a familiar red-head.

"I'll take her home; you two go have fun," Rachel said to their dumbstruck faces. "Look, I'll even take a cab, so no worries," She added, noting that the two of them were hesitant. Rachel gestured outside at the yellow car.

"Rachel, where've you been?" sputtered Mouth. To have her turn up on such terms, so suddenly, was rightfully shocking.

"Here and there. Now, shouldn't she get home?"

"Uh…"

Rachel sighed. "Yep, that was creative." She was still as sharp and brazen and sarcastic as ever; the partying hadn't dulled her wits at all. "Come on, Brooke took care of me, now I have to return the favor. Trust me." She looked to Mouth, and he knew she was telling the truth just by her eyes.

Mouth and Millicent finally conceded, and helped Rachel carry sleeping Brooke outside. They said good-bye and rushed off to keep their reservation.

By the time Rachel and Brooke got home, Brooke had woken up slightly, so she was able to get to the door with a lot of help from Rachel.

"Raaschel, hey buddy!" She tried to slap Rachel a high five, but missed terribly. "Whaattt… Wwhhat are you doing here?" Brooke asked with slurred words.

"Damn. How did you get so wasted off two bottles of alcohol? Whatever it is, I have to try it more often." Really, Brooke had never been drunk like this. This was the type of drunk that made one call their exes at the four in the morning and profess their love.

"It's heartbreak, Rachel, not liquor. Also, ice cream. But, not liquor. Actually, a teensy, weensy bit of alcohol." Brooke held up her thumb and index finger about a millimeter apart and giggled. A second later she was sobbing. "Rascchsel, what am I going to do? He said, said, he said he loves me? I mean, whassa girl to do?" She threw her hands up in exasperation and giggled sheepishly again.

Rachel snapped to attention. "Who? Who said that?"

Brooke rolled her eyes, all signs of tears gone. "Duh, Racshel, he did." Apparently, it should have been obvious. "And guess what else?"

"What?" Rachel sighed. She wasn't going to get anything else out of Brooke tonight, nor was she going to get any sort of entertaining fight like they used to have in high school. Rachel decided to just play along until Brooke passed out.

"Peyton's gone!"

Hmm. Scratch that. Maybe she would get something out of Brooke. This was interesting. Rachel snapped to attention again.

"Wha- why did Peyton leave? Where did she go?"

Brooke shrugged and raised her hands, palms up in an 'I don't know' sort of way. "I donno!"

"Brooke, was it something with Lucas?"

"Lucas?"

"Yes, Lucas!" Rachel cried, exasperated.

"Ahhhh, Lucas." Long Pause. "Lucas who?"

"God kill me."

But Brooke was already falling asleep on the couch. "Night, Rachel."

Sigh. "Good-night, Brooke."

Peyton stepped on the gas, watching the needle on the speedometer jump to 85. It made her feel good, going this fast, as if all her problems were being sucked away by the rushing wind. The danger made her other problems seem smaller, less worthy, and they disappeared, at least as long as she sped up.

So, fast it was.

She had been driving north for hours, letting her heart lead the way, allowing it to choose which turns or exits to take. Whenever she fancied, a right turn. When it felt right, take the exit. Peyton wasn't sure where she was going, but she had a nagging suspicion in the back of her head about her destination as it grew closer and closer. Before long, a tear slipped down her face, and the suspicion was confirmed.

Finally she stopped the car at a deserted field. The old iron gate was rusty, but she could still make out the letters at the top.

The Meadow.

She entered unsteadily, still unsure if she wanted to be here. All she knew was that it was quiet, calm, and held a special place in her heart. Some of Ellie's ashes were here. She sat in the middle of the expanse, where she had sat so many years ago. She had been heartbroken then, too. The grass rustled around her, even though there was no wind. She looked up into the sky, and gave a teary smile.

It's never too late, Peyton.

The next morning, Brooke woke up with a horribly pounding head, and her eyes squinted against the light. With a smile, she imagined she must have looked very Lucas-like. It was strange how different this morning was from yesterday, but she didn't want to dwell on that. She just laid there for a moment. Eh, I'll just get up for lack of anything better to do, she thought, then rolled off the couch and onto her feet. Brooke walked into the kitchen, trying to remember everything that had happened last night. She fell into a seat at the table and covered her face.

"Ugh, Rachel, make the room stop spinning."

"Hey, girl-who-gets-drunk-off-ice-cream. Breakfast?" Rachel's voice carried a sarcastic undertone that had existed since high school. Brooke declined.

"Suit yourself." Rachel sat down across from her at the table, her plate of food untouched. Brooke stared at her silently.

"You know, I don't think I've ever been so entertained by your drunkenness before; it was pretty funny watching you like that." Rachel shrugged in something resembling a challenge, as if trying to lure Brooke into one of their entertaining arguements.

Brooke raised an eyebrow, but said nothing on that matter. "So, what happened after you left?"

"You mean, after I stole your cash and went AWOL? Nothing much."

"Where'd you go?"

"Florida, like I said. I did say that, didn't I? Whatever. I went down to Miami, hit the beach for a while, stopped using drugs, didn't stop using guys, the works. When in Rome, you know?"

Brooke laughed. "Anything else in the wild adventures of Rachel Gatina and Brooke Davis's cash?"

"Nah. And hey, at least I sent the money back intact. Well, mostly intact," she admitted with a sheepish grin. "You get rid of the hag who was running your business?"

"My mom? She's long gone. I hope."

"Well, I suppose it's a good thing that you got your dad's genes." After that, the conversation hit a dead end, and the two simply enjoyed the silence. Rachel still didn't touch her food.

"So, how did you find out Lucas still loves you?" Rachel asked suddenly, nonchalantly fingering the edge of her glass, as casually as if they were discussing the weather. It seemed as though she had finally gotten to the point of the whole conversation. She leaned in, as if waiting for juicy gossip. Brooke stiffened.

"How did you know about that?"

"Brooke. You and I both know that there is only one guy who could make you cry like I know you were: Lucas. Plus, you kept muttering that Lucas loves you during your sleep. That was a bit of a giveaway. I just had to put together the pieces." She grinned in a half-snide, half-joking, all satisfied sort of way. Brooke glared.

"Rachel, it doesn't matter what he told me; he is the one for Peyton. I am not going to fall for him again to have him break my heart."

"So he told you something, huh? What was it?"

"For Gods sake, how do you work these things out of me?" Brooke asked, throwing her arms up exasperatedly.

"Hidden talent. Now, tell me." Brooke sighed, leaning back in defeat.

"He just said that I'm the one that he wants to be with, and that he wants to be the one that I can lean on. But he didn't mean it, he was just—"

Rachel stood up. "Let me show you something." She led a protesting Brooke out the door by one wrist.

They said nothing throughout the short car ride, save for the few times Brooke had asked of their destination and Rachel had ignored her. Eventually, Brooke gave up and took to watching the scenery fly by.

Rachel took a valiant, teasing stab at conversation. "So… Brooked yourself at all lately?" Brooke just glared at her while Rachel cracked up.

Soon enough, though, Rachel became serious again. She parked the car and led Brooke out onto the River court. "Remember the draft dates, when you slept with Keller and I went Lucas?" As she said this, she walked to the center of the asphalt, waving her arms around as if trying to signify that night. The river sparkled next to the pair, and the wind rustled the trees around them.

"I'm trying to forget," said Brooke with a glare, following her.

"Well, on our date, Lucas couldn't stop talking about you. How you were the one, how it was meant to be. Extremely annoying, let me tell you, especially since I was planning on sleeping with him. Needless to say, I didn't believe him. So I put it to the test."

"How can you test that?" Brooke was confused and skeptical, but a part of her was longing to hear more. A part that she didn't even realize was there until now. Rachel went to her car pulled out a basketball. She offered it to Brooke.

"Can you do something for me, Brooke? Shoot. I just wanna see something."

Brooke rolled her eyes. Right now, she didn't care about basketball. But she shot anyway, and was rewarded with the harsh smack of the ball against the backboard before rebounding and almost hitting Rachel. It didn't come anywhere close to the net.

Rachel grabbed the ball and gave Brooke a snort of derision. "Nice shot."

"Shut up. Now, can you tell me about that night of the draft dates? How did you test Lucas?" Brooke was impatient, but was pleasantly surprised by Rachel's straight answer, even if it didn't make any sense.

"I blindfolded him. Gave him a basketball, then told him to shoot." Rachel shrugged. "Told him to call upon 'Destiny' or whatever was going to bring you two together. He makes it, it is meant to be. If he doesn't, it is not meant to be. So he shot."

"And what happened?" Brooke still tried to be skeptical and impassive, but the part of her that was longing for this was growing stronger; she could hear it on her own voice.

Rachel rolled her eyes and gave Brooke the same 'duh' look Rachel had received last night. "Besides me getting naked? He made it. And then, just a few days after that, you were together again."

Brooke sat down, not encouraged. "Rachel, he made that shot because he is a basketball player. It's his job, or something like that. 'Destiny' didn't have anything to do with it." Brooke rolled her eyes. Destiny. How stupid. The only thing Lucas was destined for was Peyton, and even Rachel thought that when Lucas was with Peyton. Brooke told Rachel this.

"I never said that. Yeah, sure: I may have projected it, but somewhere this shot was always in the back of my mind, holding me back from flat out saying that they were meant to be, even if I didn't think about it consciously."

"You mean the BS: the Bull Shot?" Brooke challenged. Rachel sneered.

"Really?" she said, one eyebrow raised. Rachel went to her car and grabbed something out of the trunk, and held it out to Brooke. "You try."

Brooke stared at the blindfold in Rachel's outstretched hands.

Then she gave half laugh. "Rachel. It isn't going to work--" but she was interrupted by the blindfold covering her face. She felt the basketball in her hands. "Rachel, this is ridiculous. It is not going to happen." Brooke ran her hands over the soft, textured rubber, feeling the ridges and bumps. This felt so alien to her; just another reason why she and Lucas weren't compatible.

"Brooke, what is with you? Had I told you this in high school, you would have grabbed the ball and shanked it off the backboard, had it not meant anything. Then I would have cracked up, but that's beside the point. What happened to that Brooke, the one who didn't care about stuff like that? The real Brooke?" Her question was not one easily answered, but Brooke finally found words.

"That Brooke was tempered by Lucas. What she didn't get from Lucas, though, was a belief in destiny. Or basketball skills, for that matter."

"Then you have nothing to worry about. Go on, shoot."

Brooke sighed. Here she was; Brooke Davis, famous fashion designer, hung over at 9 A.M. on a junky old basketball court with an ex-model friend who she hadn't seen for four months and who had previously been hooked on heroin and more, blindfolded, about to attempt a basketball shot that her cheating ex-boyfriend had once made, to see if said ex (who she may or may not be completely in love with) could possibly be meant for her.

What a life I lead.

It was like a twisted daytime soap opera, but real.

But however much Brooke outwardly disagreed with the whole thing, secretly, on some level, she was excited. Lucas had already made it. He had shot because he believed in them, in their relationship even in the darkness of her mistake. In her mind, Brooke danced around the word love. But he had taken a chance, hadn't he? And because of his chance, they had gotten back together. Now it was her turn. What the hell. She put the ball up...