TITLE: Scenes from an Unplanned Life
SPOILERS: Anything from the series is fair game here.
DISCLAIMER: I neither own nor claim to own anything relating to the show Drake & Josh. The powers that be from Nickelodeon and Schneider's Bakery own all. I am not making a profit except for the satisfaction of being able to play with words for a little while.

A/N: More angst. I can't help it.

Chapter 8: Things Left Unsaid

POV: Drake/Josh, 25 years old

"As far as I'm concerned, I don't have a brother."

Drake was headed south on US 101, out of San Jose, escaping the disastrous meeting with Josh that had ended with those words. Even the sound of the wind blowing through the open windows of the Buick couldn't drown them out. He didn't know what he had expected, but what he hadn't expected was the note of stone-cold anger in his brother's voice or the knife-edge of still-fresh pain in his eyes.

Drake's heart was pounding when Josh opened the door. The two men – they were both several years removed from the boys they had once been – stared at each other across a threshold that stretched across seven years.

"You're not dead," Josh finally said, the words clipped, matter-of-fact.

During the 416 mile drive from San Diego, Drake had imagined a lot of things that Josh might say to him; that wasn't one of them. "Disappointed?" he asked and hoped Josh wouldn't say 'yes'.

Josh didn't say anything at all. He stood in the doorway, right hand on the door jamb, left hand on the inside door knob, and just stared at Drake, his brown eyes unreadable.

The tires chewed up the miles between them, his right foot pressing the accelerator as the needle inched towards 80 miles per hour. He looked at the odometer – he had only gone twelve miles, but he and Josh were a million miles apart. He had gone there to talk, to try to explain the unexplainable, to just see him. He had only managed to accomplish the last one.

Drake looked at his brother – his black hair was longer than the last time Drake saw him, curling above his ears and licking the back of his collar. His face was leaner, more angular, the cheekbones pushing against the taut, tanned skin of his face. He looked older, but in more than just a years-since-birth sort of way – it was the shadows in his once-bright eyes, the hard set of the lips that used to curl so easily into a smile. "Can I come in?" Drake asked tentatively.

Josh hesitated, his eyes flicking down the hall in both directions. He looked back at Drake, chewing at the inside of his bottom lip. Then he sighed and stepped back, turning without a word and walking into his apartment, leaving the door open.

Drake took that as an unspoken, albeit reluctant, invitation and followed him in, closing the door behind him. He stood in front of the door and shoved his hands in his pockets. His eyes followed Josh, who was across the room, his back still turned.

"Josh, I…" Drake began, not knowing what to say, but not being able to stand the silence.

"Don't," Josh cut in, turning around, the word spoken sharply. The sudden storm in his eyes belied the calm in his voice. "Don't say it. Don't say anything; just listen." He took a deep breath, nostrils flaring, as the words piled up inside his head. For seven years he had formulated the things he would say when and if this moment ever arrived. Each year, the words had gotten harsher, angrier. But now, sadness tempered his words. "You can't come back after all this time and think that an 'I'm sorry' can fix everything. This isn't high school, Drake. This is adulthood. Welcome to it."

The anger that suddenly flashed in Drake's dark eyes surprised him. "You don't know anything about my life," Drake said. The words were measured, spoken softly through lips that barely moved.

"No, I don't, do I?" Josh countered, the look in his eyes conveying, And whose fault is that? "But I know you, though. You were always like Peter Pan – refusing to grow up." He gave Drake an appraising look, like he was searching for physical evidence to support that assertion. Drake's hair was shorter; it no longer flopped into his eyes in that way girls had always found so irresistible. He had circles under his eyes that made them look almost hollow. He looked tired, maybe. But he hadn't changed much.

"So, what? You think my life's been one big party? No family, no responsibilities?" Drake asked, and he felt his temper rising, fought to keep it under control.

Josh could feel the heat warming his face. "You've got the 'no family' part right," he said bitterly.

"Wrong," Drake said, biting back what he really wanted to say as his mind flashed on Jack. He didn't want to do this. Not yet. He had purposely left the boy back in San Diego so he could confront Josh alone.

"Excuse me? I seem to recall the rest of us still being there after your little disappearing act." Josh's voice cracked on the last two words and he hated himself for it.

Drake's anger ebbed as quickly as it rose. "I know."

His body was tense, the muscles of his neck and shoulders tight with anger and frustration. When he lifted a hand to adjust the sunglasses that had slipped down his nose in the California heat, he felt the tell-tale tingling of restored circulation in his fingers. He hadn't realized he had been gripping the wheel so tightly.

His phone vibrated against his thigh and he pulled it out of his pocket and pressed it to his ear. "Hello?" he asked wearily, not in the mood to talk.

"I hope this isn't a bad time." Audrey's voice. "But Jack really wants to talk to you."

Drake perked up at the mention of his son's name. "It's alright. Put him on."

"Dad?" Jack's voice was soft and Drake could barely hear him.

"Hey, bud," Drake said, trying to sound cheerful. He pushed the buttons on the door, the open windows slowly closing, blocking out the sound of the wind and the surrounding vehicles. "Is something wrong?"

"When are you coming back?" A trace of anxiety edged Jack's voice.

"Soon," Drake responded reassuringly. "I'm on my way now. I'll be there just a soon as I can." He paused, giving Jack a moment to process his words. "Okay?"

"Okay," Jack said softly. "But hurry up. I miss you."

"I miss you, too," Drake managed to reply, swallowing down the sudden lump in his throat.

He was just about hang up when he heard his mom's voice. "Drake, you still there?" she asked quietly, and he could hear the concern in her voice.

"Yeah." He knew what she was going to ask him.

"How'd it go with your brother?"

Drake stared through the windshield at the road in front of him, Josh's last words still fresh in his memory. "Drake?" Audrey asked after Drake didn't respond.

"As far as he's concerned, he doesn't have a brother." Hearing the words out loud in his own voice didn't lessen the sting.

"Oh, no," she said and Drake could hear the tears in her voice. "Oh, honey." After a beat, she said, "It's been especially hard for him, you know."

"Yeah," Drake said quickly. He didn't want to talk about it. "Look," he continued, "I gotta go, okay? I'm driving. I'll see you when I get back." And he closed the phone before she could say anything.

The trembling started then, deep inside his chest. It spread slowly outwards to his limbs and he ground his teeth against it, gripping the wheel again. He pressed the accelerator.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Josh was standing on his balcony, staring out towards the panoramic view of the shopping plaza across the street, not really seeing it at all. He felt like crying and it angered him - why should he even care anymore?

'Shocked' was not a strong enough word to describe how he felt upon seeing Drake standing on the other side of his door, looking almost like the last seven years had never happened. Of all the things Josh had thought of to say to Drake, what he had actually said – "You're not dead" – hadn't been one of them. But the words had tumbled from his lips before he could stop them and he realized he had finally put a voice to his deepest fear.

But then the anger had set in and the hurt that he had spent so long denying came rushing to the surface – both manifesting themselves into words that were meant to wound. Sure, Drake was sorry. He was always sorry. But Josh didn't want sorry. He wanted Drake to suffer, to hurt like he did.

He never once stopped to think that maybe Drake was hurting. That he had been the whole time.

Josh could only see his own pain.

"You didn't even say goodbye," Josh said softly. And there it was – the one thing that he had never been quite able to forget.

"I couldn't," Drake replied.

"Why not?"

"Because you would've talked me out of it," Drake said. "And I had to go." He paused, studying Josh's face. "I had to. Can't you understand that?"

"Yeah, I can understand that. I've always understood that." He swallowed past the lump in his throat. "It's the rest I don't get."

Drake sighed, closed his eyes for a moment. "Josh, I…" he said again, opening his eyes wearily. There was so much that needed to be said and he wished he had the right words to take that look from Josh's eyes. But he didn't. He finally settled on, "I wanted my own life, so I took it."

"So it was as easy as that, was it?" Josh asked sharply, anger darkening his eyes.

"No, Josh, it wasn't. It wasn't easy at all." Drake sighed, whispered, "You have no idea." The second the words left his mouth, he knew they were the wrong ones.

"I have no idea? I have no idea? I'm the one who stayed, Drake, remember? I'm the one that was left standing in the ruins. I'm the one," he repeated, stabbing himself in the chest with the tip of his finger, "that had to pick up the pieces and watch Mom and Dad sink under the weight of their guilt. I'm the one that had to hear Megan cry even though she tried to hide it. Megan cried, Drake. For you. So did Mom. So did Dad." He took a breath. "So did I," he said hoarsely, lips trembling. He saw Drake open his mouth to speak and held up his hand to stop him. "So don't tell me it wasn't easy. I know it wasn't." His breathing was labored and the sound of his pounding heart was loud in his ears. "You think leaving was hard, Drake? Try getting left."

A sudden, bitter bark of laughter bubbled up from Drake's throat. "I'm an asshole," he said harshly. "I get it." He chose his next words carefully. "But if you think that my life's been all sunshine and rainbows, you're wrong."

"Yeah? Well, pardon me if I don't give a shit," Josh spat back.

He kept telling himself over the years that he didn't need Drake in his life. And hadn't he proven that? He had a Ph.D. in electrical engineering and a good paying job in the heart of Silicon Valley. He had a nice apartment and a nice car. He had friends. He even had a woman friend who couldn't yet be labeled "girlfriend", but he was hoping.

He had a good life that seemed complete enough every other day. So why did it feel like the last piece of the puzzle had finally fallen into place the second he opened his door and saw Drake standing there?

He wanted to be angry, dammit. Didn't he deserve that? And he had to admit that he had gotten just a little satisfaction out of seeing the look in Drake's eyes when he told him that he didn't have a brother. But that had drained away the instant the door had closed behind Drake's retreating figure.

It wasn't true, of course. He had never stopped thinking of Drake as his brother. That's why it had hurt so much, after all. They had been nearly inseparable since their parents had gotten married, after the initial adjustment period. Sure, there had been the time that Josh told Drake he was done with him. But look how long that had lasted. Besides, that separation had been on Josh's terms and they hadn't actually been separated. They still shared a room. They still saw each other at school, at home. Josh still knew where Drake was.

That was the hardest part of the last seven years, he decided – the not knowing.

He heard his phone ringing from inside his apartment and he turned his head towards the sound. He didn't want to talk to anyone; he decided to let the machine pick up.

"Josh, it's Dad." Walter's voice resonated from the machine. "If you're there, please pick up. Your mom just spoke with Drake. She said –"

"Dad, I'm here," Josh said wearily, sinking onto the couch.

"Son," Walter said softly. "What happened?"

Josh sighed, his breath shaky, and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Nothing," he answered.

"Josh."

"Look, Dad. I don't want to talk about it. Suffice it to say, it wasn't good." Then something suddenly occurred to him – something so obvious, he couldn't believe he'd missed it. "Wait," he said, sitting up. "How long has he been back?"

Walter paused a beat before answering, then said evenly, "He showed up at the house two nights ago. Late."

"Why didn't you call me?" He felt himself getting angry again, this time with his parents. "I had a right to know."

"He asked us not to, Josh." Walter sounded unfazed by Josh's righteous anger.

"Since when does he have the right to ask for anything?" Josh asked before he could stop himself, instantly regretting the words.

"He's my son," Walter said and Josh closed his eyes at the sadness in his father's voice. It was all too easy to forget that others had been hurt, too. Walter had felt Drake's absence as sharply as Josh had; the lack of a blood tie hadn't made the slightest difference at all to either of them.

"I know," Josh said hoarsely. "It's just…" But he couldn't finish the thought.

"I know how much he hurt you, Josh," Walter said softly. "But he's trying to make amends." He took in a shaky breath, let it out slowly. "He wants to put things right. For Jack."

"Jack?" Josh asked, confused.

There was silence at the other end. Then, "He didn't tell you."

"Tell me what?" Josh asked, suddenly feeling like the sand was shifting beneath his feet.

"Josh," Walter said softly. "Jack is Drake's son."

Josh suddenly couldn't breathe.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Drake had barely gone forty miles when the gas light came on, mocking him in amber brightness from the dash and pulling him back into focus.

"Dammit," he muttered under his breath, cursing himself for his carelessness. In his haste to leave San Jose, he hadn't stopped for gas like he had planned. His preoccupied mind hadn't noticed the needle hovering on the "E", doing its best to clue him in that he had forgotten something. Now, the car could stall at any second. He scanned the roadsides with his weary eyes, squinting through the heat that made the thick air hazy.

His shoulders sagged in noticeable relief when he saw an Arco station less than a mile ahead on his right and when he pulled up to a pump, he let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding. Pushing open the door, he stood up, stretching, the smell of gasoline sharp in his nose.

The bell over the door jingled cheerfully when he went inside to prepay, the air conditioning a welcome relief from the oppressive heat. The man behind the counter looked up, an expression of slight surprise on his face, like he hadn't had a customer in ages and hadn't been expecting one. Drake made eye contact and gave him a slight nod as he pulled out his wallet. "Give me twenty on…" He craned his neck to read the pump number through the grimy window covered in advertisements. "…two."

The man didn't make a sound, just grasped the bill that Drake held out to him between stubby fingers that were topped off with nails bitten down to the quick, punching a few buttons on an ancient computer and then turning away. Drake lingered for a moment, enjoying the air conditioning, then pushed open the door and walked to the car.

He leaned wearily against the car, squeezing the nozzle handle with his right hand, the old fashioned numbers on the pump clicking as they climbed towards twenty. His head throbbed behind his eyes and exhaustion was creeping up along his spine, weighing him down.

There was a long trip ahead, made longer by the fresh realization that he had hurt the people he loved the most – one apparently beyond repair. He had been fairly successful in tucking it away for the last seven years, pretending like it didn't happen. It had been almost easy, since he hadn't had to look them in the eye and see their pain.

But then reality came rushing to the forefront in the form of a seemingly innocuous kindergarten project. Jack came home one day with an assignment to make a poster of his family tree using pictures of his family. He was supposed to start with his grandparents and make his way down to himself. Drake had been speechless to the point that Jack asked him if he was okay. That was when it had finally hit him that he needed to try to make things right.

He told himself that he was doing it for Jack. But if he was honest with himself, Drake was just using his son as an excuse to finally do what he should have done years ago – own up to his mistakes.

Which was something he had never been very good at.

Placing the nozzle back in its slot, Drake screwed the gas cap on and flipped the cover closed with a note of finality. Just as he was about to slide into the driver's seat, his phone buzzed in his pocket. With a sigh, he pulled out his phone and looked at the number – it was a number he didn't recognize with a 408 area code. He received a lot of calls from people looking for someone named Mark – apparently Mark had had the number before Drake did.

Flipping it open, he pressed it to his ear. "If you're looking for Mark –" he began, but the caller's voice stopped him cold.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Drake felt his knees start to give out and he sank into the driver's seat. "Josh," he whispered, almost sobbing the word.

"Dad had to tell me," Josh said softly.

It took a moment for Drake to find his voice, swallowing past constricted vocal cords. "I wanted you to be able to say whatever you needed to say," he finally said, looking down at his free hand. It was trembling and he pressed it palm-down against his thigh to steady it.

There was a long silence and Drake heard Josh sigh. He could picture him running his hand through his hair, then rubbing the back of his neck the way he always did when he was frustrated. The image almost made him smile. He took it as a good sign that Josh hadn't hung up yet and didn't want to risk it by saying the wrong thing. So he just waited.

"Where are you?" Josh finally asked.

Drake looked through the windshield. "At a gas station off 101. What town, I don't know."

There was another brief pause, then a sigh. "Can…" Josh began and Drake heard him exhale. "Can we meet somewhere?"

Drake closed his eyes, resting his forehead against the steering wheel. "I could come back to your place," he offered, trying not to sound too eager.

"No," Josh replied, a little too quickly, his voice harsher than he intended. "Someplace else," he continued, his voice softer. "Neutral ground."

"Sure," Drake said, almost whispering. "Anywhere you want."

"There's a restaurant…" Josh began, and described a small restaurant whose location Drake burned into his memory.

When they hung up, Drake flipped the phone closed and let it slip from his fingers onto his lap. He gripped the wheel on either side of his head tightly in his hands and finally let himself do what he had promised himself he wouldn't.

He cried.

I told you they'd meet again! More to come, so please stay tuned.

Please review. Thank you. (And THANKS to everyone who has so far!)