a/n: real life kinda got hard really suddenly in November- think no time to go "yay it's my birthday" bad lol. so this was way later than planned. v sorry guys. i wish it was different and that i had some more time! it kind of made Lucas's pissed at the universe thing much easier to write though LMAO.
disclaimer: i don't own and i never will. Brooke would so not be marrying Julian. Peyton would never have left. Rachel would be with Nathan. Jensen Ackles and Misha Collins would have been hanging out in the background of every Tric visit to be BFFs with Owen... etc.
So life fucking sucks. Basically, you get born, your dad decides for some reason unknown to the universe that you're a threat from birth or something else equally stupid and is a total bastard to you for your entire childhood, screws you up so badly you shoot through adulthood being a bastard yourself, and then you die. Or something slightly more poetic.
But Lucas isn't really feeling poetic.
When they were kids he used to sit in this one shitty little closet on the second floor with Nathan shivering beside him and make up stupid ghost stories to distract his kid brother from the banging and shouting going on below them. For someone normally so manipulative and sharp his dad never worked out where their hiding place was and occasionally for a few blessed hours they were safe. And the whole time he'd repeat over and over that one day they'd get out, one day they'd be free and Dan would never hurt them again.
It's ironic really; lord knows Lucas put a lot of fucking mileage and effort into running from that ghost and into trying to feel that elusive safety he's always craved. But somehow it's the one thing in his life he can't drink away. And of course the whole signing up for one of the most dangerous careers (and fucking glad to have it done it) wasn't exactly a big help. But at least being a part of something that good and strong and feeling so bonded with his unit made him feel something different. He did feel protected... Hey, he never said he was a simple kind of guy.
He's never acted like a victim; he never played the card in school or expected special treatment. He wore the bruises with a weird kind of pride, hell he took a lot of them for his brother and that was something to be proud of. He's not been the kind of guy to pat himself on the back very often- the whole feeling pretty worthless because your dad doesn't give a shit about you mantra was beaten in at a fairly young age- but he was proud of himself for what he did for Nathan. He tried so damn hard to protect him from the brunt of it all. Putting him to bed early- even when the kid was in double digits and protested a lot- and encouraging him to get involved in anything and everything to keep him out of the house. And for the most part, it worked; Nathan saw Dan's handiwork on Lucas but it wasn't often he had to look in the mirror and see it for himself.
And that was enough for Lucas. For a long time it was enough. But then it wasn't. And he had tried, on the rare drunken occasion in the back of a sweltering van or crap town bar, to explain this to the only two people in the world he'd trusted it with, why. Why he'd bolted. To explain what changed... And in the back of his head, in that same chest he keeps the worst Dan memories locked away in he knows exactly what changed. But he can't voice it, ever. Because that would make him the worst brother in the world. And yeah ok maybe Nathan already thinks that already but honestly, how do you explain to your kid brother that you resent him? That by giving up your own chances you ended up letting him live a life you could never have? And really, he's kind of over it now because maybe army life screwed up his head in other ways but it fixed a lot of shit too. He loves Nathan. He would willing do it all again or jump from a speeding train or die or what-the-fuck-ever for Nathan. He's just not very good at voicing that. Or anything. So he's home and he's being a pissy little bitch because it seems like Nathan has wiped their childhood from his memory and somehow thinks Lucas is to blame for all his problems.
Maybe he is.
Maybe bailing on Nathan was a total jerk like move and his brother has every right to resent him.
...But he needed to do his own thing. He needed to be free.
He knows he hasn't behaved like a very good or moral person for the last decade but that was his choice. He owns that choice and fuck Nathan or Rachel or even Peyton bloody Sawyer for acting like he doesn't have a damn right to be pissed now. He was kind of sick of being the bad guy.
Lucas kicked the door of his flat open, losing his temper as his key jarred for the fiftieth time and then tossed the bunch onto the sideboard. His German Shepherd, Texas (what? The place freaking saved his life,) let out a joyful bark and dived towards him. Well, at least someone was fucking happy to see him.
He dropped his bag and jacket, grabbed the nearest available hoodie from a heap on the sofa and Tex's lead before whistling sharply, "we're going for a run kid, a long one, and we're not coming back until I'm a whole lot calmer ok?"
Tex's dark eyes looked up at him faithfully and he felt a tiny smile, "you are the best thing I have done since I moved back to this crap town Tex and don't let anyone else tell you different. Especially not any of my bloody colleagues." He bent down to attach the lead and paused thoughtfully, "in fact, if we run into any of them I give you express permission to take out their jugulars."
He received an enthusiastic yelp before he straightened and nodded, "then let's blow this shit up."
They ran for what felt like hours. His legs were like dead weights, his arms were about to drop off and he thought maybe his hair probably looked like a crow attacked it, but he can't stop. Push through it. Ignore the pain, damp it down, run the fuck away from it. He's had the same mantra his whole life.
Eventually Tex whined and stopped in his tracks, collapsing against a bench and Lucas joined him feeling relieved. At least Tex gave in first; his masculinity is still intact. He snorted at his own stupidity for comparing himself to his dog but hey, his dog is freaking awesome so who gives a shit?
Ok so he was a little angry. What else was new? He was suddenly aware that he had become that cliché. You know, the one where he's the guy with daddy issues and he's spent his life covering up the angst by being charming and pretending not to have a care in the world. That one. The one Zac bloody Efron is bound to end up playing in fifty different films with twisted happy endings where the girl (or guy, he's not judging) declares their love for him anyway because he fixed himself and they ride off into the sunset. Lucas was more likely to see a film of his own particular life story end in a burning pile of regret and debris. He would prefer Zac cried at the end because at least it would give him something to laugh at whilst drowning in popcorn alone at the back of the movie theatre.
He slipped his hands into his pockets and ran his finger along the top of the cigarette carton, trying to reign in his feelings. His guys would freaking laugh their asses off at the floundering mess he has recently become.
Watson would shake his head and grin ruefully at him and JB... JB would squint at him, trying to figure out the best way to pull him out of his moping and then cuff him round the head, tugging him close, telling him to quit being a pansy and that if they were gonna get shot he'd rather not have it just after a Lucas angst moment; it would depress him and steal his own thunder about heading off into the light. Or maybe he'd say something about Luke needing to hit it with the blonde paeds surgeon because she had a good pair of legs, JB was partial to good legs. And then Watson would roll his eyes and say he preferred a damn nice ass. And then JB-
Well what the fuck was the point in even wondering? Now they wouldn't say anything.
He gave up on sleep at five and jogged to work, savouring the way the cold air made his breath catch and his lungs ache. Inside he made his way to the main floor and scowled when he saw his pile of charts. God damn, why was it that he didn't have three interns assigned to him to do his bidding?
Fuck it.
"Crawford!"
The young doctor bounded towards him eagerly from where he'd been pretending to sleep on one of the visitor sofas, "yes Doctor Scott?"
"You're here early kid, if you wanna make yourself useful I've got a ton of labs you can run."
"Sure, of course, anything else?"
"You can get my coffee and a haircut."
Doctor Crawford blinked, "um, in that order?"
Lucas rolled his eyes, "just meet me upstairs with the lab results would you?"
"Uh of course," the kid backed away quickly and Lucas resisted barking at him or something else to make the boy jump and run.
He slammed his files down on the nurse's desk and Jake jumped from where he'd been asleep with his head on his arms two feet away. He had pink marker pen on his cheek and bags under his eyes. Lucas suspected he still looked better than his own personal appearance which could be classified at best as unkempt.
"Dude," Jake blinked, squinting up at him and rubbing his face, "did someone shut the elevator doors on your hand?"
"Nope, just getting a start on the day."
"By waking up the whole hospital?"
"Sorry man, forgot you need your beauty sleep instead of helping save lives," he snapped back storming away with Jake's surprised exclamations in his ears.
Down in the ER he swept through diagnosing a strep throat- (what the fuck? Who came to an ER for a sore throat?) -re-set a kid's dislocated shoulder and diagnosed an appendicitis that Novack came down to collect with barely a nod in his direction. Seriously, what was with all the female surgeons in this place being total bitches?
As if the devil herself was reading his mind Rachel appeared as he made his way back up to the ward. It was just not his morning.
"You were mean to Jagelski?"
"So?"
"It's like being mean to an overgrown puppy."
He sighed, "is it any of your business?"
"I've known him for ten years of course it's my business."
"Knowing someone for a really long time does not give you privileges to butt in Gattina."
"God you are a dick, get out of my way."
"Hey, you got in my way!"
"You got in my way the day we met Lucas."
"You punched me the first time we met."
"You hit on me!"
"I was blind drunk, emphasis on the blind."
"Wow playing it blind, is that your excuse for the rest of your pathetic life?"
"Maybe, what the hell's yours? Were you drunk the day you operated on my dad?"
Even he knew it was a step too far, hell he had probably hit too far a while ago and was officially miles past it, burning bridges left, right and centre.
Rachel seemed inclined to agree, "don't talk to me. Ever," she snapped before stalking away.
"Fine by me!"
He really hoped no-one was watching, he already looked like a dishevelled mess and he'd hate to see the gloating looks on various people's faces if he got fired for being way too unprofessional, even at this hospital.
Finally, what felt like hours later, he sat down heavily in the Attending's lounge and rubbed at his temples. Fuuuuuck. He just needed a bit of peace, some sleep maybe, something to help-
"Doctor Scott?"
"What is it?" He growled, glancing up at Doctor Crawford, was this kid following him around?
"I got your labs and I was hoping-" before Doctor Crawford could finish the door of the lounge flew back, slamming into the wall and Peyton appeared; her eyes fierce as they fixed on Lucas.
"Scram," she snapped at Crawford without looking at him. He left like his ass was on fire; Lucas couldn't really blame him.
Slowly he stood up, "Doct-"
"Sit," she said sharply, "shut up."
He found himself obeying and watched as she sat down opposite, dropping a large file in front of them on the table.
"What is-"
"I told you not to talk, for god's sake do it before I change my mind about this and punch you in the face." She flipped open the file and shoved it in front of him. "Now, you are a class A douche Lucas. You yell at my friends which, by the way, I don't even do. Ever. And you take out whatever issues you've had building up for your entire life on everybody around you. It's not fair and it's not the way you're ever going to get comfortable around here. It's also making everyone else's lives really crappy so I'm going to lay something out for you."
"I don't see how a medical binder is gonna fix me-"
"This is Dan Scott's medical file," she cut in curtly.
He felt the colour drain from his face and stared at her numbly, finally out of snarky come backs.
"Your father." He couldn't even find his voice to retort that yeah, he knew who that was. "This is a record of his first visit," she said, pulling the first page out. "He was in and out with us for years and Cragen- who was our Head of Cardio back then- dealt with him. When Cragen retired Rach took on his case and by then your father's Cardiomyopathy was crippling him-"
"I know all this," he said hoarsely.
"It was severe," she continued as if she hadn't heard him, pulling out another sheet, "this is a record of his last visit. He'd been ignoring Rachel and Nathan for months and when he turned up-" she stopped, "well, you read it." She paused, suddenly letting her face soften, "it was awful Lucas, you have no idea. And I'm not saying that to hurt you," she added quickly before he could protest, "it's just how it was. Rach and Nate never left the hospital; she lost weeks of sleep, got so thin I was carrying food in my coat just to give it to her when I saw her- Nathan got the job at the hospital just to be here all the time."
"Peyton-"
"And we all worked our asses off to try and fix him. Keller called in every favour he'd ever had with all the cardio gods he'd worked with at medical school, Brooke was pretty much working hand and foot for your dad, calling in shift changes to be there round the clock and Jake basically just kept us all alive. And Rachel... She didn't want to operate the last time, it was high risk and your father wasn't taking any of it seriously- he was pretty cruel actually, in the end. It was- I-" she cleared her throat, "she did it, when Nathan begged. And we thought for a while it had worked; but you can't stop a clot Lucas. Maybe you don't like Rachel and ultimately that doesn't matter to her because it sure as hell doesn't keep her up at night but you cannot even dare blame this on her. She carries around enough regrets about what they could have done differently as it is. When you read this you'll see though, nothing could have changed what happened."
"Someone should have been watching him more carefully," he snapped, leafing through the records, the words blurring in front of him.
Peyton snorted, "he was under twenty four hour surveillance. Look, take it or leave it, these are the files. Your time yelling at everyone you work with is up, you either accept that we did everything we could to save your father and that ultimately the only person you should really be finding at fault- if you really need someone to blame- is you for not coming home when you know you should have done; or, you can lose the rest of your family for good."
She stood up and adjusted her blouse, "we might not be the Friends cast but we have each other's backs."
"You don't have mine," he muttered.
Peyton's eyes hardened, "grow up Lucas, I'm trying to help you."
"Really? Cos it just seems like you're rubbing my face in the fact that I was out, trying to help put an end to one of the worst wars in history, watching my friends get shot-" he stopped, realising he'd stood up and sat back down deflated, "whatever, thanks for the file."
"Look I said I wasn't trying to make you feel worse Lucas," she said softly, her voice more gentle, "I'm thinking you do a pretty good job of beating yourself up as it is. This is just how it was with your dad, you seem to have formed quite an incorrect assumption of what happened in your head. Just read it ok?"
He shrugged non-commitedly, "you don't know me and you sure as hell don't know what I went through with my dad before I left home. Why the hell do you think this will help me?"
She swallowed and then tried to shrug back, "because even though I hated my dad when he died, I never forgave myself for not being there. I would give anything to know that the people around him when he died cared about him."
His mouth dropped open, "I thought-"
"It's not important, just, read the file ok?" She disappeared before he could say anything else and he was left, staring at the big green file with Dan Scott on the front in Rachel's neat looped hand writing. He felt sick. He'd always been able to convince himself that something medical had gone wrong, something physical he could blame other people for- Nathan hadn't pushed Dan enough to get help, Rachel had come up short during a procedure- but what if it was just that his dad had been too stubborn and too selfish to even try and stay alive before Lucas had a chance to see him again?
Before he could have said his peace, proved his father wrong for everything he'd ever said in an attempt to make his son feel like crap.
It seemed like right now every shot Dan had ever taken at Lucas was true. He was weak, he was a failure, he was a coward.
Two hours later and the file was sitting in his locker waiting for him and he still hadn't decided if he could bear to read the details. He finished stitching up a hand wound from a jack saw and wandered over to the nurse's desk. Both Jake and Chris fell silent as he arrived and he rolled his eyes, "seriously? Are you two gossiping about me?"
"Just surprised to see you made it through the day without karma knocking you down the stairs or something," Chris said grimly.
Lucas winced, he knew he deserved the hostility.
"Ok, I was a dick this morning- out of line- and m'sorry about that."
Jake gave a wry chuckle, "that your idea of an apology Scott?"
He scratched his neck awkwardly, "best I can do on short notice."
"Fair enough, we all have those kind of days I know, but I doubt it'll fly for the twins of darkness, or Brooke for that matter- I'd steer clear if I were you. And then beg for forgiveness on your knees in a couple of days, or maybe weeks in Peyton's case."
Lucas couldn't help scoffing, "even if I won back Peyton's approval she'd find something to be pissed at me for within minutes."
"She's not that bad," Jake began to protest but Lucas cut in-
"Yes she is! I swear she's got her heart in the right place but she's damn sure not good at letting people find it."
"How poetic," Chris said sniggering.
Lucas punched him on the arm, "you know what I mean. She refuses to take any kind of chance- no offence to you guys but this place is so slow a glacier would over take it in terms of change."
"Now that's just not true."
"It is! You guys are seriously afraid of embracing change."
"Oh really?" Jake's eyes seemed to visibly harden and assuredly he pushed off from the desk they were leaning on, "watch and learn how we do it here Scott."
"Oh you shouldn't have said that," Chris muttered as Jake walked away, "he only does this kind of scary determined thing like once a year and it's always to do with Davis."
"Pfft what? Is he finally gonna ask her to have coffee?"
Jake stalked across to the coffee cart where the brunette nurse was standing with a friend, "hey Brooke!"
Brooke peered at him frowning, "you ok Jakey, you look all hot and-"
"We should get married."
"We should- we- what?"
"Yeah, I think we should get married. I love you, you love me, you've basically been living at my place for the last four years so I think we should skip the whole will we, won't we dance and you should just be Mrs Brooke Jagelski- or Jagelski Davis, whatever you prefer, I'm partial to the Davis personally."
"Are you- are you being serious?"
"You know I'd never joke about a thing like this."
"We haven't even been on a date Jake!"
"Would you prefer it if I got down on one knee?"
"For a start!"
Jake smiled hesitantly and then made to bend down, "wait- you are gonna say yes right?"
"Do it properly first!"
Lucas watched in utter amazement as Jake officially proposed and Brooke burst into tears and said yes. He couldn't believe what had just happened. He had just been owned by the puppy dog of the hospital- and with style.
"Oh you're dead now newbie," Chris muttered, "she was still on my list."
"Dude, she was never going to sleep with you," he managed to retort, still kind of dazed as he watched Jake spin Brooke around in a hug and beam at them both from over her shoulder.
"Yeah but there was always the dream," Chris sighed loftily, before grinning at him, "better step up to the plate man, Baker might hear that spontaneous proposals are in this week and get down on one knee for your girl."
"She's not my girl," he said crossly, "she's made it perfectly clear she has no interest in ever being my girl."
Chris rolled his eyes as he swung his legs down from the desk, "since when has Peyton Sawyer ever said what she really meant?"
Lucas hesitated, "she has to me man, sometimes- she's sincere you know? When she's not breathing fire."
"Well then maybe that's your answer. Maybe she's been waiting all her life for a man who can take her crap and still see the true Peyton," Chris clutched at his chest and began to hum, Hero under his breath, Lucas shoved at his shoulder and the skinnier doctor tripped and skidded across the floor. "Uncool!" He straightened up, shaking his head, "besides- aren't you soldier types supposed to go in all guns blazing and shit? Quit chickening out before I go and try crossing her off my list once and for all."
"You are so not sleeping with her!"
"I don't know dude- now that Davis is officially off limits I might be feeling like I've got nothing to lose- and I have always had a soft spot for Peyton," Chris smirked and wiggled his eyebrows.
"Don't you dare!"
"Ah, so, officially claiming an interest?"
Lucas felt himself flush and shrugged, grabbing at his charts, "shut up."
"Chicken shit!"
The thing was, he didn't even know if Peyton would let him try and apologise; or declare feelings again; or even speak to her. He hadn't exactly been polite the last time they'd had a conversation, and she'd actually been the one trying. Fighting for him in her own weird angry way.
He sighed, reaching for the folder when he opened his locker. He was gonna need some JD to go with this.
Peyton opened the door, blinking in the bright light and then widened her eyes in surprise as recognition dawned, "Lucas? What are you- why are you on my porch?"
"I came to see you," he said briskly, stepping through the door without invitation and pushing a bouquet of Irises at her, "Nathan told me these are your favourites a while back, I have no idea why he knows that, I'm just assuming it's the repressed gay in him coming out."
She seemed to catch up pretty quickly as she rolled her eyes, "your brother's gay, ha, so original."
"I've been making that joke since he was nine, it's not meant to be original, it's just a classic."
"Lucas- seriously, why are you here?"
His eyes flickered up to the wall where there were black and white photographs of Peyton, Rachel and Nathan, some of Brooke and Jake and others from the hospital- it was so good to finally get a glance at who she was outside of the hospital. "I, am cooking you dinner," he said finally landing his gaze back to her. She looked beautiful in a sleep mussed kind of way in sweats with her hair falling over her shoulders in that easy, graceful style Brooke so envied and a blue tee shirt with Jack's Mannequin emblazoned across the front.
"I- I already ate."
"Really?" He raised an eyebrow, "what did you have?"
She averted his gaze, looking around quickly, "um, soup."
"Oh? What kind of soup?"
"...Carrot?"
He snorted, "nice try, but I'm doing this."
"But why?"
"Because," he said shortly, "you did something nice for me today, despite the fact I was being a total ass and I wanted to thank you properly. I also know that you don't eat anything in the least bit healthy seeing as you and Gattina can't toast a pop tart between you and nothing at that cafeteria contains anything remotely nutritional. So," he held up the shopping bag in his other hand, "I'm making you lasagne."
"I- you-" she followed him through to the kitchen (pretty self explanatory directions seeing as it was the only room downstairs with the light off- and you know- right in front of him) "you know how to cook?"
He scoffed, "who do you think fed Nathan growing up?"
There was a moment of awkward silence where he knew she was digesting this new information and he both regretted mentioning it and yet at the same time felt strangely liberated. Something about her just made him want to spill his guts, only in a less literal, gross way, obviously. And he needed to do this tonight, even if she was going to spend the entire dinner yelling at him for being a bitch to her best friend, or had a weird mix of panic, anger and sympathy in her eyes as she looked at him, he just...
Needed her.
He clapped his hands together to avoid blurting that whole train of thought out before he managed to get to an apology and cleared his throat, "you got a pan?"