Author's Note: I've had the majority of this chapter written for a while, but it was hard to get the end of it complete. I'm not sure if I got the idea I wanted to get out accomplished, but overall, I like this chapter a lot.

I want to say that you guys are so amazing with the reviews. I am completely overwhelmed at what you say and I hope you know how you can really make my day better. Each individual review makes me smile.

I'd like to dedicate this chapter to a few people. Amber for one, who pretty much inspired most of it by cheering me on. AndAllison, who helped me become a little less uneducated about pregnancy.

PS: For those of you who will be confused by this chapter, some time has passed since the end of the last one.

Movie Script Ending

Chapter Thirty-nine: I Did All My Best To Smile

(here I am, here I am, waiting to hold you)

A cool breeze blew softly over the North Carolina town, reminding anyone who was awake that winter still hadn't ended, that it would still be dark before five, and that there was always the slight possibility your windshield would be frozen when you got up for work in the morning.

Children stood with chapped lips and large parkas waiting for the bus, feet shuffling and teeth chattering. People who were fortunate enough to own cars remained in them long after they were due in the office, or the late bell had rung, preferring the warmth of their car to the icy cold air.

On the large, tree-lined neighborhood streets, heaters were left on twenty-four seven, and wives who did not work remained happily indoors, waving their cheating husbands off with large smiles.

Some Christmas decorations remained, some New Year party favors were still scattered around lawns, telling stories their owners never would.

At one particular house, known for being the home of a beautiful young couple, soon to be parents though most could admit they'd never expected it to last, a new, pale blue Audi that was sure to be worth a small fortune was pulling into the driveway.

Lucas Scott stepped out of his new car, a gift to himself after a big company success, pulling his scarf tightly around his neck. He shivered, looking around at his quiet neighborhood.

From upstairs, Brooke Davis-Scott stood looking out the window of her bedroom, one hand resting against her heavily protruding stomach, the other cradling a phone to her ear.

"Lucas is here," She sighed to Peyton Sawyer, who was whispering all her responses, hoping not to wake her own sleeping boyfriend.

"Finally," Peyton said, and then lowered her voice to an almost inaudible whisper. "You've really been missing him, huh?"

The truth was, Brooke had really been enjoying this time alone. Since she'd gotten pregnant, Lucas had been constantly there, waiting on her hand and foot. It was like his guilt from what had happened the last time she'd been pregnant was still sitting on his shoulders, and he felt the need to dote on her constantly. Her own guilt was bad enough, but having Lucas being the perfect, attending husband made things even worse. She'd had to practically force him out the door and onto this business trip, and now she was kind of upset to know that her time alone with her unborn child was over.

"Yeah," she stuttered. "I'm so glad he's home."

"And tell him if he leaves again while you're about to freaking explode, I'll kill him," a laugh, and then a very manly, groggy voice could be heard in the background. "Oh, shit! Gotta go."

Unable to help herself, Brooke chuckled softly, clicking the phone off and tossing it down on the bed. She heard the front door close, and then Lucas shuffling around downstairs.

Deciding that, surprisingly, she had kind of missed him, Brooke hobbled towards the stairs, waiting at the top for him with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

Lucas didn't seem to notice this as he took the steps two at a time, pulling her into him once he'd reached the top step. "Are you okay? How are you?" He murmured into her hair.

She pulled away from him, laughing. "I'm fine. I've been great." This wasn't entirely true. She'd spent about half the time he was away crying, but she was used to crying by now. It seemed, for the last two years, crying was the only constant in her life.

"Good, because I'm never leaving again. I mean it. You're going to get sick of me."

"I already kind of am." She rubbed her nose against his playfully.

Lucas bent down so his face was level with her stomach. "Hey, baby. How are you doing, little one?"

Brooke smiled. Lucas would be a great father. If there was anything she was sure of these days, this was it. Over the past eight months, she had watched him read every baby book possible, go to all her birthing class and actually listen with an attentiveness she could not understand, and just overall become extremely prepared. She had to admit it had warmed her heart, watching all this.

At the same time, every smile from Lucas, every time he touched her stomach, she felt that she was robbing someone else of this very same luxury. She felt an unexplainable grief within her, like she was mourning the loss of a life. And in a way, she was.

Since that day in her old baby's nursery, her and Lucas had truly worked their hardest to be happy, to make things better. She was now nearly due and so pregnant she couldn't see her feet anymore, and she and Lucas had in a way, never been happier. This baby provided them with things to talk about before bed and when they went out to dinner, but underneath all these layers, she wasn't sure what was left of their relationship.

Lucas lifted himself back up to kiss her cheek. "Why are you still standing?"

"I'm," she didn't even know where these words were coming from, but she felt like she had to get out of the house for a few minutes. "I'm actually going to Peyton's for a little while."

Surprisingly, Lucas did not object. "I was thinking we'd order in from that Italian place tonight. You could take a long bath, I'll give you a massage…"

Brooke laughed. "You're the one that just got back from a stressful business trip, so I'mthe one that should be doing the massaging."

"Alright, well I think we'll both have a good laugh watching you try." He kissed her once more, and she giggled at the mental image of herself trying to massage Lucas with her swollen ankles and belly out tothere.

As she walked down the stairs, clutching the keys tightly to her chest, however, she allowed the smile to drop from her face.

She knew where she was going the second she turned on the car's ignition.

Nathan Scott's apartment building was much bluer than she remembered. There were more cars than she recalled seeing, less plants. Noticing all these things, she recognized, was her way of procrastinating. Since the announcement of her pregnancy, Nathan had become something of a hermit, which, when questioned by Lucas, he said was because he was working on some huge architectural design. She didn't fool herself into thinking this was true.

Brooke mounted the steps slowly, her legs wobbly underneath the weight of her upper body. She tired easily these days, obviously a factor of her pregnancy. But it was more than that. She found she was never hungry, eating only enough to keep the baby happy. She wasn't sure why her appetite had abandoned her, but she had a feeling it had something to do with the person she was about to see.

She stood before his apartment door with anxiety and a nervous fluttering in her stomach, like she had hundreds of times before. Only this time is was so, so different.

Her knocks were short and fast, and a part of her hoped he would not answer. She heard a shuffling from within, and took a step backwards, awaiting him. Brooke tried to remember the last time she'd seen Nathan, and an image from the month before popped into her head. Nathan had come over for dinner, something Lucas forced him to do at least twice a month. She could remember staring at him, trying to understand what had become of the two of them, what had changed so much over the years.

The door opened and there was Nathan, her Nathan. Or was he her Nathan? Did even a part of him belong to her? There was a small thunder of kicks inside her stomach, and she knew the answer to her own question.

"Hey," he said, leaning against the frame, arms crossed over his chest. He'd been working out, she could tell.

Brooke bit her lower lip. "Hi, Nathan. Can I come in?"

Nathan hesitated. "Um, does Lucas know you're here?"

"Uh-huh," she lied, forcing a smile. "Come on, Nate. It's freezing out here."

Brooke forced herself to meet his eyes, and she recognized a certain brokenness that she realized she'd caused. They were wide and deep, and so much sadder than she remembered them being after Haley had left him.

His eyes flickered down over her stomach, and wordlessly, he stepped aside.

The apartment was exactly how she remembered it.

"What are you doing here?" She turned to face him. He was playing nervously with his left ring finger, a nervous habit he'd acquired from wearing a ring there for so many years.

This, she could not answer. Brooke had gotten into the car needing an escape from Lucas, and had instantly had a feeling she should come here. She hadn't been sure what she would say or what she was expecting to happen, but she'd needed to see him.

"I'm not really sure."

"Oh."

"I guess," she sighed. "Well, it's just that I'm almost due. It's just a few more weeks now, and I thought…"

Nathan cleared his throat. "Brooke, I'm kind of busy here, so if you're here for a reason, you might as well just say it."

"You've really played no part in this pregnancy--"

"Whose fault is that?" He accused, his eyes suddenly growing dark.

"I know," she assured him. "I know it's my fault, okay? But I thought maybe you'd… maybe you'd want to talk to the baby? I know it's a little late, but she can probably hear you."

"She?" his voice cracked, and she felt the tough demeanor he was showing her begin to fade away.

Brooke nodded, tears filling her own eyes. "Lucas wanted it to be a surprise, and I thought I did too, but I just couldn't help myself.."

"A girl," he said softly. "I don't know. I don't think I want to talk to your stomach."

"They can really hear you though. I think, I think she knows I'm here." They must have looked so ridiculous, standing there in his living room, both of them fighting back tears, staring at each other unsurely.

"Why do you think she knows you're here?" It was only hitting her now just how terrible this situation was. How dreadfully she had ruined one person's life in order to salvage another's.

"Because she hasn't stopped kicking since you opened the door."

His eyes were shining now, bright, and his voice trembled as he said, "Do you think she knows who I am?"

"She's never kicked like this before."

Swallowing hard, Nathan took a few steps towards her. She missed his touch, she realized. She missed the way he held her.

Reaching forward, Brooke grabbed Nathan's hand, pressing it firmly against her abdomen. Sure enough, the baby was kicking like crazy.

He let out something that was a mix between a laugh and a sob, his eyes wide with amazement.

They stared hard at each other, and she recognized by the way he was looking at her that he wanted to kiss her.

"Go ahead," she said, and for a second she wondered if he thought she was telling him to kiss her. She clarified, "talk to her."

Shakily, Nathan bent down on one knee, lifting up the thin fabric of her off-white tunic slowly. He placed his hands on her stomach. "H-hi, baby. It's me, Nathan."

Brooke fought back tears, ignoring the way her skin tingled from Nathan's touch.

He looked strangely uncomfortable, but oddly at ease. "I guess I just want to say that I love you, and that I'm sorry things have to be this way."

If she could have, she would have dropped to her knees, she would have taken him into her arms, and held him until she couldn't hold him anymore.

"I'll always be here," he was fighting to get the words out now, his chest heaving up and down with pain, "I'll always be here."

He pushed himself to a standing position, pulling down her tunic so it covered her stomach. She wiped a stray tear from underneath his eye, and then lowered her hand, feeling guilty for it.

"I should probably be getting home."

He nodded, stuffing his hands into his pockets and looking down.

"How've you been?"

"I've been fine," he shrugged. "Busy working."

She could not help herself. "Are you still dating that girl?" The last time Nathan had visited her and Lucas, he'd told them of this girl he was seeing. Her name was Shannon, or Hannah or something. Brooke and Lucas had seen them together once. They'd been driving home from dinner, and had seen the two standing outside a movie theater, deciding on what they should watch. Nathan's arm had been loosely draped over the girl's, who was giggling at something he'd said. Her hair was nearly Brooke's shade, and she wore a skirt so short it left hardly anything to the imagination. Brooke could distinctly remember thinking she had looked stupid.

"Yeah." Nathan nodded truthfully, and she felt a stab of jealousy.

"She's not good enough for you." She blurted out before she could stop herself.

"I think you should probably go now." Nathan looked at the ground, scuffing the carpet with his Adidas sneaker.

She nodded, not even looking at him as she waddled towards the door.

"Brooke," he said.

She turned.

"I like the name Gabriella. For a girl."

"I don't," she told him matter-of-factly, her lower lip trembling, and then left.

"How about Gabriella?"

Peyton Sawyer scoffed. She and her boyfriend, Jake Jagielski were laying side by side on their bed, only facing different directions. Jake's head was at the foot at the bed, while hers was at the crown. In both their hands were matching copies of the book entitled, '101 Baby Names For You!'.

"Please. That's so something Brooke would name her child. Ventura?"

"Uh, veto. Gretel?"

"As in Hansel?"

"Got it. Owen?"

"Hey!" She smacked his leg. "It was my turn. But yeah, I actually kind of like that."

They weren't pregnant or even close at this point, but since they'd been trying for a child, neither of them could help themselves, buying baby books to prepare themselves. Of course, Jake had already raised a baby once, but they didn't speak often of Jenny. It was too painful for Jake, and it hurt her to see him hurt.

"Owen Jagielski." Jake said softly, laying the book on his chest and rubbing his hand slowly up and down Peyton's calf.

"I'm surprised. That name actually sounds good with your stupid last name." She joked, and he pinched her.

"Hey! It's a cool last name. Different."

"Jewish."

"Well, our kids are going to be Jewish."

Peyton laughed. "If they want to be. They can be whatever they want."

"Owen," he began, "will definitely be a spinal surgeon."

"With a talent for guitar and drawing." Peyton added.

"He'll go to Yale."

"Brown." She corrected.

"Liberal."

"Obviously."

She giggled. "He'll be a great older brother to his younger sister…"

"…Kirsten."

"She'll be blonde, with curly hair."

"Of course. Look at us," he propped himself up on his elbows. "Our kids are destined to have serious afros."

"Oh, come on, man. Don't jinx our kids."

"Too late. They were jinxed the day I was born."

She lifted herself up, bringing herself down beside Jake. She kissed his chest, covered only by a plain white t-shirt. He kissed her forehead, and together, they stared up at the ceiling.

They had begun dating months before, after weeks and weeks of clear buildup. There hadn't been a true courtship, it had just sort of happened. She'd never been happier, despite having broken off a relationship with her amazing next door neighbor, Dave. Dave had moved two months before, and she couldn't help but feel a slight tug of guilt, knowing that she was probably the reason.

She and Jake had found each other again, and she knew it would never be over between them. He was her soulmate, he was it for her.

"I can't wait to have kids with you, Jake Jagielski." She snuggled into him, and he sighed contently.

"Me either, Peyton. Afro-haired, art and musically inclined children."

Brooke leaned against the door as she pushed it closed, clearing her throat slightly. She felt a dull pain shoot through her lower abdomen, and she ran a hand over her belly. Her back had been aching since she'd left Nathan's, and it was gradually spreading to her stomach in a slightly annoying manner.

She could hear Lucas shuffling around in the kitchen, and she hesitated slightly before walking up the stairs, dropping her purse and jacket along the way.

Brooke chuckled softly as she reached her bathroom. It seemed like this place was a frequent hideout for her, from Lucas, from the world.

Her eyes landed on a black and white photograph on the wall. She'd taken it long before she'd started seeing Nathan, sometime after he'd first moved in. It was the one day of December that year that had been warm, and they'd taken advantage. Lucas and Nathan were sitting on the fancy lawn chairs outside, both wearing shorts and matching sneakers (that had been accidental, of course.) They had looked so… brotherly that Brooke had not been able to help herself. She'd snapped this photo of them and had instantly deemed it a masterpiece, hanging one copy up in the front entrance, and another in the bathroom, which had needed a little warming up.

Now, the laughing brothers in the picture haunted her, and as she reached forward to touch the picture, she felt another pain, this one more sharp and lower, rip through her.

Brooke let out a slight gasp, stumbling to her knees. In another short minute, another pain hit her, leaving her in a wave of nausea.

She leaned against the bathtub, breathing so loudly she was sure Lucas could hear her from below.

"Luke!" She managed to shout, bracing herself for the next pain. "Lucas!"

The last thing she saw before she blacked out was Nathan and Lucas, smiling back at her with an unknowing love, not aware of all the pain she'd cause them, of all the tragedy she'd bestow upon their lives.