Disclaimer: One Tree Hill and its characters belong to Mark Schwahn, The CW, etc. I'm simply whoring them for my own amusement.

Spoilers/Warnings: Mostly this thing is futuristic, but I've borrowed a few things from Season 5. Namely Owen.

Summary: It wasn't his fault, but she couldn't see anything beyond her despair, beyond her loss. Well, he'd lost, too. He despaired, too. But he was the enemy, he didn't get to have feelings. LP NH BO

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02. What Became Our Bitter End

Lucas woke from his dream, jolting awake with a start, his heart hammering against his chest from the exertion. That damn dream again. The one that had been haunting him every night since Christopher's death. In it, Christopher would cry out and Lucas would attempt to go to him, only to never make it—the room would move farther and farther out of his grasp, making it impossible to save his son. Which was exactly what the paramedics and authorities had told him and Peyton—it would've been impossible for them to have done anything to save Christopher.

Looking up, Lucas found Jamie and Bethany leaning over the sofa, peering down at him with curious eyes. No doubt they were wondering what the hell he was doing there and not at his house.

"What is Unca Lucas doing here?" Bethany inquired of her brother, talking around the thumb that was always in her mouth.

"What does it look like, Bethy? He's sleeping." Jamie paused, adding, "Well, he was." He scowled at his sister, as if it had been her and her alone peering at Lucas as if he was a circus attraction.

Lucas forced himself into a sitting position. "What are you rug rats doing? Shouldn't you be getting ready for school?"

"Shouldn't you be at home?" Jamie shot back. He didn't wait for Lucas to answer, snarking, "Besides, it's Saturday, Uncle Luke." Luke watched as he hopped over the sofa, snatching up the remote amid his sister's protests of: "No, Jamie, it's my turn for this TV!"

As the two started to play tug of war with the remote control, Lucas slid off the sofa, taking himself off to the kitchen. Ah, adults, he thought spying Nathan and Haley seated at the table.

"Did they wake you up?" Haley asked as he made a beeline for the coffee pot.

Lucas threw her a look over his shoulder. "They're fighting for the remote. Though I think Jamie's got the advantage."

With his head buried behind a newspaper, Nathan yelled, "Jamie give your sister the remote!"

"But Dad… she's just going to watch cartoons!" Jamie yelled from the living room.

"And you're just going to watch ESPN!" Bethy shouted back. "DADDY!"

"Go watch TV in your room, Jamie!" Nathan shouted, wishing that, just for once, his son would listen. Silence ensued for a few moments but was upended later by the slamming of Jamie's bedroom door. Nathan looked over at Lucas, grinning. "Aren't you glad you came here instead of a hotel?"

"Immensely."

As Lucas turned toward the two of them, Haley inquired, "So, you gonna tell us why you made use of your spare key and camped out on our sofa?"

Lucas stared down into his coffee cup, debating the best way to avoid answering Haley's question. Then, he just sighed in defeat. What was the point? The two of them would find out eventually. "Peyton kicked me out."

"What?" Haley demanded, standing up abruptly. "Luke, are you okay?"

Lucas held up a stand to stop her as she started for him, relieved when she dropped back into her chair. "I'm fine. I mean… I'm okay—really. It's just…" He looked down into the dark liquid of his coffee cup. "I can barely fathom losing Christopher and now there's this whole situation with Peyton to contend with."

"You said that things were strained but I never thought…" Haley said, distracted.

"Neither did I." Lucas brought his coffee cup to his mouth, aware that Nathan and Haley were exchanging knowing glances between one another. "I just need to borrow your sofa for a few days, until I figure out what I'm going to do."

"Do you want me to talk to her?" Haley suggested, silently hoping that Lucas would give her the chance. Maybe if she and Brooke teamed up they could get through to her, make her see that pushing Lucas away wasn't going to help assuage her grief. Unfortunately Lucas acted as she presumed he would, completely rejecting her offer of help.

"No! Just… I think she needs space, is all. You know, Peyton. She deals with grief solitarily. She just needs time alone."

Haley looked over at Nathan who took the words right out of her mouth: "Do you really believe that?"

Lucas scoffed. "No, but if don't I have to admit to myself that my marriage is over and I'm just not ready to do that."

Brooke rang the doorbell, tapping her foot anxiously as she waited for someone to answer the door. She knew damn well that Peyton was home, her SUV was in the driveway and she could hear the TV blaring from outside.

Peyton hadn't answered any of her phone calls or emails in days—she was worried. It was unlike Peyton to turn off her phone and not to return an email. Even when she was pissed off something fierce at Brooke, she would send her an email, even if her sole purpose was to curse Brooke out, thus enraging her further.

Since Christopher's death Peyton had been withdrawn and distant. Most especially with Lucas. Not that she was beaming smiles and rays of sunshine with the rest of them. She was cold and bitter with Lucas, something that she never was with any of them. It was understandable after such a tragedy and it was so like Peyton to disappear into herself and not allow anyone close enough to help her.

Brooke was poised to ring the doorbell for the umpteenth time when the door swung wide, Becca and Gilly standing there in their pajamas, looking up at her with twin expressions of annoyance. "Hi Aunt Brooke," they said in unison in that eerie way of theirs—she thought only twins did that.

"Where's your Mom?" she demanded.

The two girls exchanged a look, then Becca said, "She said to tell you that she isn't up for visitors today. But thanks for stopping by."

Becca attempted to close the door in her face, but Brooke slapped her hand on the glass, pushing it wide. "What about your dad? When's he going to be back?" Again, the girls exchanged a look. "Oh, God, what now?"

Becca worried her bottom lip between her teeth. "We haven't seen him."

"What do you mean you haven't seen him? He lives here—how can you not have seen him?" Something told her that she was not going to like the answer to her question.

Gilly answered her boldly: "Daddy left."

"Left?" she echoed. Certainly they'd misunderstood. Because Lucas would not leave Peyton. Or his children. Lucas Scott was a standup guy—he just would not.

Becca nodded in agreement. "A few days ago. He told us that he'd see us soon, but that Mommy was real sad about Christopher and that he couldn't stay with us anymore."

My God. Lucas had left Peyton? No, she couldn't believe it—she couldn't believe that Lucas would abandon his marriage, his children. She looked from Becca to Gilly and back again. "Well, has he called you girls? Do you know where he went?" They shook their heads. "Okay. Run back inside." As Becca was closing the door, she added, "And don't… don't tell your mom we had this little talk."

After the door closed, she heard Gilly remark to her sister, "We have to keep another secret?"

"Grownups are dunderheads, Gilly," her sister replied.

Brooke chuckled to herself as she pulled out her cell phone, mumbling to herself as she scrolled through her contact list for Luke's number. She waited a few moments for the call to connect and when the other end was picked up, she barked into the phone, "Where are you?" She paused as she received an answer and then: "Why the hell did you leave your wife?"

Lucas had just received his tea from the waitress and was about to take a sip when Brooke fell into the chair across from him. "I cannot believe you!" she spat angrily. "I can't believe that you would ditch your wife—your children—when they need you the most. For God's sake, Lucas, you just buried your son and now you're turning your back on your marriage—your wife? Have you no care for Peyton's feelings? For your children's?"

Lucas stared at her mutely. Well. Hello to you, too, Brooke. Swiping at the condensation around his glass, he asked calmly, "Have you talked to Peyton?"

"Well… no. I gleaned what happened from Becca and Gilly—"

Ah. Always the tattletales, his girls. He smiled fondly just thinking about them; he missed them. He tried not to dwell on that fact too much. Instead, Lucas forced himself to concentrate on Brooke and the situation at hand. He didn't want to knock her from her high horse, but he wasn't going to let her go on scolding him for something that wasn't his fault—at least, not entirely. He had to face facts: he had left. It had been his only recourse, for both his and Peyton's sanity, the sake of their marriage. That's what he'd come to tell himself, at any rate. "I didn't leave, Brooke. I turn my back on Peyton, on my children or my marriage. Contrary to what you obviously think of me, Peyton kicked me out."

Her anger at him dissipated with one simple word: "Oh."

"I know you're her best friend and that your loyalties lie with her, but she wanted me to leave, so I left. There was no fussing, no fighting. She packed my bag, I said goodbye to my girls and I… and I left." Saying goodbye to Becca and Gilly had been so hard. They'd assured him that they understood, but they couldn't, not really. How could they when he wasn't sure that he even did?

Brooke stared across the table at him, aghast. It wasn't like Lucas to just throw in the towel and be done with it. Lucas fought tooth and nail for what he wanted. It was unconceivable to her that he didn't fight for Peyton. "I find it hard to believe that you didn't fight for her, Lucas. This is Peyton we're talking about. Your wife. The love of your life."

"You know how Peyton is once her mind is made up. She wanted me out, so I tucked my tail between my legs and did as she bid." He glared at her. "But thanks for the vote of confidence regarding my loyalties."

Brooke blushed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions." She stopped talking when the waitress returned to take her drink order. After the girl bustled away to get her Diet Coke, she told Lucas, "Haley mentioned that Peyton was taking Christopher's death harder than she was letting on and that she was taking all of her frustration out on you. I just never realized…" Brooke trailed off, her thoughts awhirl.

Lucas shrugged nonchalantly. It was the burden of being the husband—coping with the bad along with the good. During their eight years of marriage, things had mostly been good. There'd been a few bad days, most of them during Peyton's four pregnancies, but normally she was calm and collected. Happy. He'd taken those days for granted. He'd give anything to have Peyton welcome him back into her arms, flash him one of her flirty smiles. He'd give his life in exchange for Christopher's, if it would make Peyton happy again.

"She's mourning, Brooke. I know what she's going through—"

"But the two of you should be mourning, grieving together, Lucas. You both lost Christopher. It's not fair that you can't lean on each other."

"I know," he said in a small voice, tears threatening to break his calm exterior. Clearing his throat to combat the lump in his throat, he said, "I'm perfectly content with waiting her out."

"Do you think that's all there is to this—just waiting her out?" Brooke silently hoped for his sake that was all there was to it. She wanted to see Lucas and Peyton work out their differences and cope with losing Christopher together. It was stupid for two people who were so in love to let such a tragedy destroy them. It made her want to go home, have Owen wrap her in his arms and make him promise her that no matter what, he would never leave her—even if she told him to.

"I'd like to hope so," he said, refusing to give himself and his infernal hopes away. It didn't bear contemplating what would happen were Peyton never to forgive him. "I've only been gone a few days and already I miss my kids like mad. I hate being away from them. Leaving… I know it was best, but was it best for them?" He leaned back in his chair, completely unaware that he had been leaning forward with every word he spoke. "I thought it best to leave Peyton to her grief, to deal with Christopher's death in her own way, but afterward… afterward I thought of Becca and Gilly and Dillon. How my leaving would affect them."

Brooke heard the longing in his voice, could tell how much he was missing his kids, regretting his decision to leave. Reaching across the tabletop, she covered his hand with hers. "You're a good dad, Luke."

He smiled bitterly, squeezing her hand. "Tell that to Peyton."

"I will. Repeatedly. I'll remind her what a catch you are," she told him as the waitress returned with her coke, setting it down in front of her. She inquired if they were ready to order, but they both shook their heads. They hadn't come to eat.

"You think she forgot?" Lucas asked her once the waitress walked away.

Brooke held his gaze for a moment, then shook her head slowly. "No. That's something she wouldn't forget."

"Come on, you guys, it can't be that bad," Peyton said as the girls pushed their food around their plates. She wasn't the culinary expert that Lucas was, or the dinner companion, either, but she was putting forth an effort at least. She had to. Though Christopher was lost to her now, she had these three and she was going to make it through for them.

Becca dropped her hands into her lap. "Daddy's not here to tell us to eat the broccoli." Becca looked at Gilly who had the same blank, bereaved expression on her face—Gilly nodded along her agreement.

"Eat your broccoli." Peyton didn't know what else to say. She hadn't even contemplated how kicking Lucas out would affect her kids. She was only thinking of herself, her own peace of mind, her own heartache. Never before had she put herself before her children—having done so now, she felt absolutely wretched. "You guys miss him, huh?"

The girls nodded in unison. "When can we see him?"

It hadn't even been a week already, but she guessed that it was just going to take some getting accustomed to. After all, Lucas had never been away from them overnight—book tours notwithstanding. And even then the girls were in constant contact with him—emails, texts, phone conversations, video chats. Lucas loved them wholeheartedly.

"Da!" Dillion said, pounding on the tray of his high chair, adding his own opinion on the matter.

"All right, I get it," Peyton conceded. "We'll call your dad." She was met with happy smiles from Becca and Gilly and clapping from Dillon. "But not until after we eat."

The kids ate (however, not the broccoli) and chattered all throughout their meal, eager to get finished to call their dad. After the dishes were loaded in the dishwasher and the leftovers tucked away in the refrigerator, she met her children in the living room where they were anxiously awaiting her. The girls were spread out on the carpet with a puzzle, Dillon laying upside down on the sofa singing "Old McDonald Had a Farm."

Tickling Dillon's belly, he shot upright with a giggle. She pulled him onto her lap, Becca and Gilly following a moment later, settling down on each side of her. It wasn't until after they were still and quiet that she picked up the phone and dialed Luke's cell.

He picked up after the fourth ring, his voice much deeper and raspier than she remembered. It seemed like that was one of things she shouldn't be able to forget.
"Hey, it's me."

A moment of silence. "Hello, Peyton."

There was an edge to his voice now, an edge that wasn't there before, she noted. Well she didn't really want to talk to him either, but she wasn't calling for her, she was calling in behalf of their children. She dismissed the reminder from her conscience that she could've let Becca or Gilly dial Luke's number and avoided this whole awkward exchange. A part of her had wanted to hear his voice. The part that wasn't blinded by black rage and twisted resentment.

"Hi. How… um, how are you?"

"I'm okay. How are the kids? Is everything all right?" he asked, suddenly alarmed.

Peyton noted that he didn't ask how she was. She masked her disappointment that her welfare was no longer important to her husband. She dived right into her reason for calling, the niceties having gotten her nowhere. "The kids are fine. They miss you and they want to see you."

"I want to see them, too."

"Good. How about Friday? You could pick them up from school and spend the afternoon with them," she suggested.

"Okay."

Peyton smiled at her daughters, the two of them whispering to each other, obviously excited at the prospect of spending an entire afternoon with their father. "You'll have to pick up Dillon at TRIC—"

"That's okay, I don't mind."

"Great. Good. Well… would you like to talk to the girls?" She looked at her daughters whose faces had lit up like Christmas trees. Becca held out her hand first. "Here's Becca." She sat, cradling Dillon against her chest as first Becca then Gilly told Lucas about the goings on in their lives since he'd left. At the end of their conversations, when they both expressed how much they missed him, her heart nearly broke. She may have told him to go, but he could've fought her. He could have insisted that the kids needed him, that she needed him. Instead, he chose to leave and therefore, in her already fractured heart, abandoned her in her time of need.

When the girls were finished talking to their dad, she sent them upstairs, urging them to get ready for bed. After the girls were out of earshot, she pressed the phone to her ear. "Luke… ?"

"I'm still here."

She smiled a little at that. "I didn't know if you'd hung up or what. You know how Gilly is with the—"

"—phone," he hastily finished. "I know. Did you need something else?"

Peyton felt his rejection, straight to her toes. She tried to tell herself that it didn't matter how he treated her, that she didn't care, but they were lies. It did matter and she did care. Though, it'd be easier if it didn't matter, if she didn't care. "How are you?"

She was met with silence and for a few moments she despaired of him ever answering her. He surprised her when he said, "I've been better." She wanted to ask where he was, but she thought better of it. "And you?"

That angered her. He should know how she was. She'd buried her son and lost her husband within weeks of each other. She was just dandy. She didn't know what to do or say so instead she just hung up.

And she wasn't the least bit surprised that Lucas didn't call her back.