Disclaimer: See previous chapter. Lyrics by Dido.
AN: When I get more free time I'm hoping to post individual review responses because you guys totally deserve it but for now I'd like to say thank you to all the wonderful people that took time to leave a review, paranoidbychoice, dianehermans, brucasever, TeamSophia, .Cinnamon, Long Live BRUCAS, monkeyluver012, yaba, dee, troypazash, ravencheerleader, princetongirl, Brucas10, whiters, BDavisLScott23, Addicte, sunshine, bella, BRUCAS123, miralinda, Ash1984, leona, othfan326, kItty'RoCkeR, catcat51092, bex, ashstalker, Jill Cohen, ILoveSarahSophia, Princesakarlita411, xnxdx, Babi., psiek, juicetroop82 and OTH-Brucas-love and also to the ones that favorited, alerted or took the time to read this story. Also since this is the last chapter I'd love to hear what you guys think about it or the story as a whole. And just a little heads up, this takes place six months after the events in previous chapter. Enjoy!
Epilogue
I've always thought that I'd love to live by the sea...I have no idea what's happened to that dream, cause there's really nothing left here to stop me
But if my life is for rent and I don't learn to buy well I deserve nothing more than I get
cause nothing I have is truly mine...
-BL-
Six months later…
She was standing with a group of well, if maybe a bit odd dressed designers, involved in a heated discussion about the good and bad surprises of the just completed NY fashion week. Every few minutes she quipped in with a comment or two, just enough to keep them from asking too much. Clearly, she found her drink more interesting, but as she looked down, champagne that was there a minute ago was now gone and she wished she stood closer to the bar so she could get a refill. This way she was reduced to forced sobriety unless that blue-eyed waiter came back with another tray of something (at this point she wasn't above accepting one of those fruity, terribly named cocktails).
It's not exactly a place she wants to be at but it's necessary - she never held any illusions she would actually enjoy herself here. It was simply business, nothing more. There were some things pretty, expensive dress and make up couldn't cover up. But there was no time for complaining, this was the life she chose a long time ago.
She saw the creative director of her company coming her way and she moved a few strays of her dark hair from her face and smiled, or at least tried to.
"Christopher," she acknowledged as he stopped a few feet from her.
"Miss Davis. Wonderful party, isn't it?" he asked conversationally.
"Of course. Not that you'd expect anything less from Vanity Fair," It was nothing short of spectacular, with designer decor and expensive drinks. She was certain she never saw so many stars, wannabe celebrities and models crowded in one single room. But it was also tiring, the constant mingling, fake smiles and empty conversations. Being the head of one of the most perspective designer companies in NYC didn't come without a price.
He nodded in agreement, finishing up the rest of his scotch. "You have a point there," he said and then paused, hesitant. "It is amazing indeed. Unlike the comments I've been hearing about our latest collection."
She frowned, took a deep breath "What do you mean?"
"Well, there were rumors backstage after the show…"
"What rumors?" she asked, turning to face him and managing to freeze him in place with her steely cold expression.
"People talk. And I had the opportunity to chat with quite a few designers, even Tom Ford who commented something about it being dull, uninspiring and repetitive. And then he added that we were fools for letting Brooke Davis go."
"What?"
"At least we weren't as bad as that Lindsay Lohan debacle with Versace."
Victoria scuffed, finding little comfort in those words and then b-lined to the bar for a refill.
-BL-
One month ago…
The room is quiet except for the soft taping sound – her fingers connecting with the wood of the desk in soft, even internals. Its part boredom, part nerves as she continues staring at the black screen of her Mac laptop, stuck in the moment. A second ago she's finished another Skype chat with her boyfriend and has come down to a cold reality of her empty office. As cold as it sounds, she was smart enough to know that a relationship that depended on a good internet connection and their schedule was barely a relationship at all. Maybe it would be enough if they were two adolescents who could be satisfied with a few long weekly chats and seeing each other once a month but it wasn't to her. And she had a feeling he shared that sentiment.
Because lately she felt they've spent more and more time arguing about the stupidest things, in fact the only thing they did agree upon was that that their inability to spend more time together was to blame for most of their current problems. And she was tired of spending more time at airports and planes than with him, tired of having to say goodbye every week end, tired of falling asleep with the phone in hand, tired of sitting at office meetings and thinking she's just fall apart if she doesn't get to at least call him to hear his voice in the next five minutes, tired...just tired. New York is cold and it makes her feel even lonelier, feel his absence deep in her bones every time the wind blows harder and she has to pull her coat to keep herself warm.
She leans back in her leather chair with a sigh, closing her eyes, certain of only one thing – she won't let this go no matter what. Maybe she's not holding on hard enough, she thinks or maybe…maybe she's holding on too tightly to other things. It's just a thought and it slides from her mind as soon as the door opens and Millie walks in.
Her head snaps from the laptop to the door as she shuts it down with an audible click and forces a smile.
"Brooke, I called on the phone but you weren't answering."
"I…was distracted." she says finally, folding her hands protectively around her small frame. "What did you need?"
"I just called to inform you that David said that those two dresses for the spring/summer collection will be finished by tomorrow," the brunette says, holding a stack of papers in one hand and a pencil in another.
"Okay," Brooke nods, as Millie remains silent. But even so her assistant's expression tells her clearly even if she's holding back words - she doesn't look like a girl who's happily in love and practically has everything she could ever want in her life.
Millicent looks at her strangely, as if she was planning to say something else too but then decided against it at the last second so she turns around to leave.
"Anything else?"
"Nothing im..."
"Millicent?" Brooke calls out just before she disappears out of her sight.
She sighs, giving in. "Your mother said she needs to see you as soon as possible in her office."
"Oh." Brooke says in a barely audible voice and wishes she hasn't asked anything at all. She really isn't in the mood to talk with the Satan's spawn right now. "Tell her I'm not here or that I went to rehab or just make up something equally colorful, I don't really care."
It doesn't really matter, she knows Victoria will call her again to criticize her latest interview that came out in Vogue or the dress she wore to that event yesterday or her latest designs or anything she does that's not previously fully approved by the mother dearest. She was a fool for thinking the accident would change her or at least make her put things in perspective. People never change, at least not if they don't consciously decide to.
Right now, she's in no better position than she was six months ago. And that realization scares her more than any bad fashion magazine review or a poorly taken photo in public.
"Sure," Millie says a little too quickly, as if she's expected to hear that answer. In fact, Brooke's sure she has a long list of excuses prepared for exactly this sort of situations.
"Wait..." the word comes out of her mouth so quickly it shocks her almost as much as it does Millicent.
"Yes?"
"Actually, tell her…" she thinks of that deep, cold water, panic taking over as she tries to take a breath "tell her I'll be there in a minute. And please get me Michael on the phone." she says and smiles a little in relief as the fresh air fills her lungs.
"I'm not sure he's here today. I think he had some court appointment this morning." Millicent explains.
"I don't care. Call him and tell him it's an emergency and that I need to talk to him."
Two minutes later Millie notifies her that their company lawyer, Michael Cage is on the phone. She takes the call and after a few minutes of assuring him that she hasn't actually gone completely mad he agrees to have the contract ready in half an hour for her, unable to hide the disappointment in his voice. He knows better than to try to talk her out of this. When Brooke Davis truly decided something that was that, there was no changing her mind. And this was definitely one of those times.
Just as she's about to go out Cage comes to her office to hand her the papers and asks her once again if she is sure about this.
"Absolutely," she answers easily, taking the papers from his hand and giving them a onceover before signing. It doesn't feel like defeat at all, more like her actions finally catching up with her heart.
He gives her a sympathetic look before leaving the office and she just smiles, thinking she'll never have to sit at that damn airport surrounded by the small sea of bags ever again.
-BL-
Brooke Davis walks into the small office located a few feet from her own, not bothering with introductions or small talk and says, "It's all yours." before dropping the papers on the desk.
Her mother looks up at her with a similar expression as Michael and she can't really blame her because she's not entirely sure what she's doing herself. "It's all yours now." she repeats as if that explains everything.
"What are you talking about Brooke?" Victoria asks finally paying more attention to the papers on her desk. She glances at them quickly and then looks up. "What is this?"
"Everything you ever wanted mother," she says calmly and it stings a little because it's the truth. This is all her mother ever wanted. Victoria remains quiet, waiting for her to elaborate and so she does. "The company is all yours. I'm done."
"Is this some sort of a joke?"
"Absolutely not. I had Michael put the contract together, if you don't believe me you can check it out yourself but I'm done. I'm resigning today."
"But…" her mother starts and for once she is speechless. If she wasn't so tired Brooke would find this funny. "Did something happen or…"
"Not really. I'm just tired of renting my life out to this company, to the press, to you…" she says with a sigh, her eyes glistering with the unshed tears. "I don't want to do it anymore."
These last six months (or five years) she kept fighting for it, thinking it was what she wanted, what she needed to be happy. But she had it wrong all along. She was fighting for the wrong thing.
Her mother examines the papers more carefully as Brooke explains it all, and when she realizes this isn't some kind of a scam she smiles victoriously, as if she's just defeated her at a game known only to her. Brooke doesn't feel like she lost. Quite the opposite.
Still, she congratulates her honestly, smiles and turns to leave with a brief goodbye.
There is nothing left for her here.
-BL-
"Ask me where I'm standing."
"Brooke…"
"Ask me," she demands again, the excitement coloring her voice.
He sighs and she can almost see him rolling his eyes as he smiles and says "Where are you standing?"
"Outside in the street, in front of the B Davis company." she explains.
"You mean in front of your company," he says.
"Actually…"
There's a brief pause on the line before he says "Brooke, what did you do?"
"I don't own it anymore." she says and hears him cough as he almost chokes on his coffee on the other end.
"What? Brooke, you love that company. You invested everything you had in it," he says knowing how important it is to her.
"No, I love you. And the company was…it was just a hiding place." she says slowly, as if she's testing the words, as if she's just come to this particular discovery herself. This is new to her, not having the safety net to fall into if he fails her but somehow this time she thinks he won't or at least hopes he won't and it's the most progress she's made when it comes to Lucas Scott in years.
He knows that and almost chooses to tell her she shouldn't have so much faith in him because he's failed her time and time again and this newfound confidence she has in him is scaring him a little. In the end he doesn't say anything but hopes silently he'll live up to her expectations. She deserved the best.
"There will always be other companies, other jobs, but there's only one guy I love. So, you better spread out that red carpet because I'm coming there." she says jokingly and Lucas laughs.
A bus passes by the sidewalk she's standing on and she waits, asks him to repeat his question because she hasn't heard him.
"I said what time should I come pick you up at the airport?"
"I dunno yet. I have to call the company and reserve a ticket so I'll call you later mister," she says sounding unusually excited about that. It's strange, she knows but it's been years since she's done anything practical as this on her own. Millicent usually did it for her and left the ticket at her desk to pick up in the morning.
"Okay," he agrees and they chat for a few more minutes before he interrupts her.
"So we're really doing this, huh?" he asks.
She stops, her eyes falling on the small bag by her feet filled with sketchbooks and the jacket in her hand (the only things she took with her from the office she's worked at for years!) and says softly, "Yeah…yes we are."
And then she's laughing in the middle of a busy New York street alone like a crazy person, drunk with this newfound excitement, giddy at the thought of seeing him, kissing him in the middle of LAX knowing she doesn't have to let go ever again.
-BL-
Four months later she opens a small exclusive B Davis boutique in L.A. Luke and Jake help her with the heavy lifting, the paint job and the shelves and Peyton help her with the design and advertising. She spends the night before opening inside, sitting on the floor, looking around the place with a sense of pride at the thought that every little thing there was her doing. The dresses, the shirts, even the neatly stacked scarfs on the shelves by the door she's spent an hour folding in place and this small place feels more hers than that big company ever did.
Somehow, she even ends up sending Victoria an invitation to the opening. Of course, she doesn't show up but she does get a call from Christopher the night before the opening and he mentions something about the company not doing so well. She understands and even feels a little sad until Luke comes and plants a kiss on her forehead affectionately making her smile.
The opening of the boutique turns out to be a complete success, attracting even a few celebrities but the only thing that matters to her is that Peyton and Jake are there and that Nate and Hales even endured a long flight from North Carolina to L.A just to come and see the place she's been talking about for months over the Skype and a billion texts.
It's comforting to have Peyton living just five minutes away from her and Luke's apartment. It feels a lot like old times, back in Tree Hill. And often Hales jokes in passing how Nate should accept that offer from L.A Clippers finally so they can just move here because those damn plane rides are tiring, especially for a pregnant woman and her phone bill is through the roof. He just smiles at her significantly and she thinks Nate could never refuse her.
And on nights like this, with her friends by her side, Los Angeles feels like home.
The boy with blue eyes told her once that she was going to change the world someday. But the thing he forgot to motion was that the one world she needed to change the most was hers.
(The end)