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: I'm screwing with pretty much everything in the OTH verse. For now if you've seen S1, you're golden.

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

Notes: I found that while writing this chapter, everything seemed final. God knows I've been ready to finish this story for awhile now. However, I didn't want to rush to the finish line. I wanted it to end slowly and happily but just right. I didn't want to drag it on and throw in unnecessary drama. Lucas and Peyton have had their fair share in the last eight chapters. Everything is in its right place. And that's the way I'm going to leave it. I want to thank you all who reviewed and supported this story through all the angst and drama and the long lapses between updates. I hope you enjoy how it ends.

—

08. Learning How to Let Go

Peyton awoke to the sound of ruckus and a crying baby. Jolting upright, she looked beside her, but Lucas was already gone. And she was still naked. Gasping, Peyton ran across the room as much as she was able. Muscles that had been neglected the months of her separation, protested. Yet the aching and numbness made her smile. Pulling a shirt over her head, she grinned to herself, remembering the night she and Lucas had spent together. How had they gone without each other for so long? Before Christopher's death, they had been unable to keep their hands off of one another, which was probably why they'd had four children.

She pulled on panties and a pair of lounge pants and headed out of the room. The TV was blaring in the living room but it was empty. The kitchen, however, was a disaster area. Dillon was screaming and kicking in his high chair, Cheerios strewn all over the floor. Becca and Gilly were fighting over the prize from a cereal box and Lucas was on the phone, attempting to carry on his conversation despite the racket. He shot her a grateful glance, mouthing, "It's your father."

Peyton lifted Dillon out of high chair and he calmed at once, trying to feed her the cereal that was crushed in his palm. She shook her head, encouraging him to eat it as she crossed to Lucas and held out her hand for the phone. Lucas shook his head, continuing his conversation. "Yes, sir. I understand. No, I know I can't do better, sir." Peyton watched and listened carefully, nodding her agreement. Meanwhile, Dillon attempted to pawn his cereal off on Lucas. Lucas declined the cereal but gnawed on his son's hand playfully, relishing in the laugh that echoed through the kitchen. "We look forward to it." Lucas hung up the phone, enclosing it in his fist as he stomped across the room to glare at his daughters. He took the toy that Becca and Gilly were fighting over, opened the back door and threw it outside. "Now, nobody gets it."

The girls looked at him for a minute, and then returned their attention to their breakfast, chagrined.

"That was a little harsh," Peyton murmured, touching his shoulder to discourage the glower that he was directing at the girls.

"They were screaming like banshees. I could barely hear your dad screaming at me." He scrubbed a hand over his face. "I'm sorry if the noise woke you. I tried to get them under control, but…"

Peyton insisted, "I'd slept long enough. What did he say?"

"Your dad? Oh, he's coming to visit."

"What?" Peyton screeched. "Did he say why?"

Lucas shrugged. "I just know that he yelled at me for twenty minutes for being a worthless son-of-a-bitch, walking out on you and the kids after what had just happened to Christopher. Then he reminded me of what a good thing I had, that I wouldn't find anyone, anything better than you, than what we have."

"My dad's a smart man."

"The smartest." He lifted her hand, pressing a kiss inside her palm. "How are you this morning?"

"Good. A little stiff in places, but good. Really good."

"I'm glad." He looked hesitant, yet hopeful. "No regrets?"

Peyton quickly assured him, "Not a one. So when's my dad going to be here?"

Lucas reached for his coffee cup, telling her, "Oh, he's in town already. He was calling from the motel. He wants to take us out to dinner."

"Good God. A little advanced warning would've been nice."

"You're telling me," Lucas said, taking a sip from his coffee mug. The shrill ring of the phone pierced the silence once again. "You answer it. I don't think I can handle your dad again."

Laughing, Peyton grabbed the phone off the counter as Lucas settled at the table with his daughters, asking, "So who was the toy really for?"

—

"This is going to be a disaster," Lucas told Peyton as he walked into the bathroom, buttoning his striped navy dress shirt.

"It will not be. Everything's going to be fine. Once Daddy sees that I'm smiling and happy again the two of you will be back to talking about literature and cracking jokes. Relax."

"Relax?" he repeated. "How the heck can I relax when he told me that I broke you?"

Peyton dropped her blush brush into her bag and faced her husband, suddenly angry with her father. "He told you that?"

"Not in so many words, but the implication was there."

"Lucas…"

He sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bathtub. "A lot has gone wrong in our marriage the last few months, Peyton."

"That may be true but we're in a really good place right now."

Her optimism, the happiness radiating off her, tugged at his heart. "I love you, Peyton and every time you look at me as you are right now…it's a gift."

"You sound like you're trying to tell me something, Lucas."

He shook his head. "Just…thank you."

She didn't know what he was thanking her for, but it didn't matter. She leaned down to kiss him, softly, briefly. They were due to meet her dad in a half-hour and if she lingered there was no telling what would happen or how late they would be.

She returned to the mirror to finish her makeup. "You know, I find it odd that Brooke and Owen were busy tonight. Usually they jump at the chance to have the kids over."

"Not all of them, at the same time. They're not that foolish." She shot him a look. "Hey I love them, but sometimes they're handfuls." Coughing, he said, "I'm sure they had a dinner date or something."

"I'm sure you're right," she conceded as Lucas waltzed out of the bathroom, whistling to himself. She stared after him, agape.

—

"Promise me you won't let him yell at me too much," Lucas told Peyton as he tucked her hand in the crook of his arm. They were making their way up the sidewalk to the restaurant where they were meeting her father. He was nervous for reasons that had squat to do with Larry.

"He's not going to yell at you," his wife assured him.

"He yelled at me this morning or have you forgotten?"

"I didn't hear much of the conversation. You could be embellishing."

"I do not embellish."

She slid him a knowing glance. "We'll agree to disagree on that point."

Sweeping inside the restaurant, they stopped before the hostess. "Scott party," Lucas said, feeling Peyton's questioning gaze. However she surprised him by not posing a single question. Good. The less questions she asked the less lies he'd have to spin.

The woman smiled at him, her eyes shifting to Peyton. "Your party is awaiting you."

"Yay," he said with feigned enthusiasm.

Laughing softly, Peyton tugged him forward, falling in step behind the hostess. The woman guided them around tables, to the back of the restaurant where the private rooms were. When they arrived at their room, the wooden double doors were closed. "I thought you said the party was waiting for us?" Peyton asked the hostess when she pushed open the door and the inside was awash in darkness.

"I may have the wrong room…"

The lights flashed on and a chorus of "SURPRISE!" from their family and friends slightly alarmed Peyton. She took in the room's occupants. Brooke and Owen. Nathan and Haley. A couple of people from TRIC. Her dad. And Lucas at her side. He looped an arm around her waist, pressed a kiss to her cheek, whispering, "Happy Birthday."

"My birthday isn't for two more months," she felt the need to point out.

He smiled. "We're not celebrating your birthday, silly."

Then she understood. "Oh." Christopher's birthday was the following week. What would have been his birthday. She waited for all the old familiar feelings of hurt and anger to bubble up…they didn't. She was happy. She was content. She still missed her baby, but she had all these people who loved her, who were rallying around her at the beginning of what was to be a tumultuous week. She had her children. She had Lucas. She smacked his arm with her clutch. "So this was all a set-up, even the phone call and all that with my Dad?"

Lucas shook his head. "No, no. Some of that was actually true. A lot of it. Most of it."

"You've been planning this, haven't you?"

"I wanted to celebrate Christopher, not mourn him. This would've been such a happy day for us. I want it to be a happy day for us." He grabbed her hand, placing it on his heart. "We lost him and we lost ourselves along the way, Peyton. I thought that tonight, celebrating Chris's birthday could be our new start."

Peyton surprised everyone, even her husband, by throwing her arms around him and kissing him. She heard gasps and whispers, but didn't care. She didn't pay heed to even one, just her husband who was the kindest man she'd ever known. She was lucky to have him, a fact that had escaped her for quite a while. "Thank you," she told him when they parted, brushing away the lipstick that had transferred over to him with the pad of her thumb.

Lucas barely nodded before he found himself pushed out of the way, Peyton's friends moving in to grill her for details over the new development in her marriage. He left the women to their clucking and made his way to the table where his father-in-law sat, taking everything in. "Larry."

"Lucas. Sit, sit," Larry said, waving to the chairs on either side of him. His eyes centered on his daughter. "She was surprised."

"Yes. Yes, she was."

Still staring across the room at his daughter, paying Lucas barely any heed at all, Larry told him, "She looks much happier than the last time I saw her."

"I would say she is."

Larry leveled a cold stare at Lucas. "Would she say she is?"

"You would have to ask her that."

Larry expelled a sigh. "The last couple of months have been tough on the both of you, Lucas. I know you lost just as much as she did..."

Lucas looked over at his wife who was laughing and smiling as she talked to Brooke and Owen. "I could've made things easier for her. I didn't."

"We always look back on these tragedies and see what we could have done differently."

"I almost lost her. I can't begin to even think of what may have happened."

"But you didn't. That's what you need to focus on. You're together and it seems that things are back to how they were."

"Not quite, but we're getting there."

"As long as my girl is happy," he said, standing up as Peyton approached. "Hey, honey."

"Daddy, I'm glad you're here." Leaning back, she glanced at Lucas, then asking her father, "Are you giving Lucas a hard time?"

"We were talking about you."

"That's what I was afraid of."

"Everything's fine. It's not like I stabbed him with my fork or anything."

"Well…I'm glad you're here. Wasn't this a sweet thing that Lucas did?" She beamed at her husband who gave her a tight smile.

"He had the right of it, honey."

Peyton held out her hand to Lucas. "Our table is over there. The hostess is ready to serve dinner."

Lucas took Peyton's hand and let her help him to his feet. Peyton dropped his hand for a moment to hug her father, whispering in his ear, "Thanks for coming, Daddy."

—

After dinner everyone shuffled into the bar part of the restaurant. Peyton wanted to dance and how was Lucas to deny her? He stood with her saying goodbye to her father, though she'd tried to browbeat him into staying. "A few little dances won't hurt," she was telling him.

"You're not the one with the bad knee," he said leaning forward to kiss her cheek. "You two have fun. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" they echoed.

"You don't think I'm going to come to town and not see my grandkids, are you?" He turned his back and started to walk away, calling over his shoulder, "See you in the morning."

Neither of them spoke until Larry was out of their sight. "You survived."

"Now, now, don't you make fun of me."

"I was doing no such thing," Peyton said, looping her arm through his. "How long did it take you to plan all of this?"

Lucas cocked his head to the side and thought about it. "A week. Maybe two. I think it took me that long to get your dad to agree to come. He wasn't happy with me back then, but he came for you. Plus, he liked the thought behind it."

Taking a seat at the bar, Peyton turned toward the dance floor where Owen was already twirling Brooke around. "I think I needed this, to have everyone here. To celebrate Chris's life, instead of mourning his death." She sighed. "Though I kind of wished the kids were here." She glanced at Lucas who was ordering himself a drink, smiling. "You have something planned, don't you?"

"You're going to question my every move from now on, aren't you?"

"Yes."

As he awaited his drink, Lucas told her. "No, I don't have any big plans. I thought we could spend Christopher's birthday at home. All five of us."

"I think I'd like that."

"But if you'd rather spend all day crying in bed, I'm okay with that," he said, accepting his drink from the bartender.

"How do you do that?" Peyton managed past the lump in her throat.

"Do what?"

"Know exactly what I need even before I know?"

He shrugged. "After so many years together…I guess I just know you that well." He pushed aside his glass, reaching out to tuck her hair behind her ear. "But, you know…if you are going to spend the day crying, all you have to do is ask and I'll hold you…wipe the tears away."

A tear slid down her cheek. "You know…sometimes I think I don't deserve you."

"Sometimes you may be right," he said softly.

Peyton looked out at the dance floor. Her friends were having a good time, but she wasn't much in the dancing mood after all. "You want to get out of here?"

"You don't want to stay?"

She shook her head. "There's somewhere I want to go before we head home."

Lucas nodded, setting his drink on the bar. "I was thinking the same thing." Taking her hand, he helped her out of her chair and with her arm wrapped around his waist and her head on his shoulder, he led her out of the bar.

—

"You're going to get your knees dirty," Lucas pointed out, looking down at her, on her knees in the grass.

"Oh, stuff it." She pulled his hand until they had sprawled out together in front of Christopher's tombstone. Peyton leaned forward, tracing the inscription with her fingertip. His name. His birthdate. Then she leaned her cheek against the marble, cool against her skin, whispering, "I miss you, baby." She felt Lucas watching her, his gaze intent and concerned. "I'm okay," she told him without looking at him.

"Are you sure?"

She shifted her body to look at him, grabbing his hands, kissing his knuckles. "Tonight was about him. I thought it was pertinent that we spend some time with him."

"Okay." He pulled Peyton against his chest, holding her tight against him. "Remember the last time we were here?"

She groaned. "I'd rather not."

"I just meant that we've come a long way from then."

Peyton thought about that night a few months ago. They'd spoken like strangers, talking about their daughter's birthday. The exchange had been awkward but had ultimately led to their reconciliation. She grinned, though he couldn't see her. "I'd say so. Last night, for instance."

"Ah, last night…" he trailed off, thoughtfully, remembering how he and Peyton had stayed up until mid-morning making love. When he thought they were done, she'd kiss him or touch him and he would be raring to go yet again. How he had an ounce of energy to walk today was beyond him.

Beside him, Peyton expelled a deep breath. "Thursday's going to be difficult, I'm afraid."

Lucas turned her so that he could see her face. There were tears in her eyes. "This time you won't be alone. I'll be there."

"Even if I push you away?"

"Even if you push me away."

"Even if I crank up Led Zeppelin and tell you to leave me alone."

"Even if."

She took his hand in hers, bringing it to her mouth. She kissed his knuckles, and then pressed his hand to her face. "I'm so glad you're here, Lucas. I'm so glad that we found our way back. I thought I couldn't live without him, but I can't…I can't live without you."

They were words Lucas didn't think he needed to hear, but his heart absorbed them all the same, holding them tight, stashing them in a sacred place for another day. He pulled his wife close, wrapping his arms around her. He didn't know how long they sat there, propped against the tree adjacent to their son's grave, holding on tight to one another—happy though they knew the next seven days would be a trial. He just knew that the night couldn't have ended any other way.

fin.