A/N: Here it is folks, the third installment!

I don't own OTH or it's characters, only the journey I choose to take them on. As well as any and all mistakes, since this whole thing is unbeta'd. (forgot to mention that earlier). Chapter title comes from a lyric in "To The Moon and Back" by Savage Garden.

Shout out to MichelleBelle16, who lets me ramble ideas at her to see what makes sense, lol. Thanks for that! BTW, this first section is for you, haha. Nowhere near as bad as I made it sound, though...promise!

Ch. 3: To Justify All The Hurt Inside

Hand resting on the door knob, Lucas leans his forehead against the front door and closes his eyes. He's not ready to go in yet. His morning has run him through a gamut of emotions, from waking with despair, battling guilt, lashing out in anger, smiling in shared humor, and circling back to guilt again.

Visiting the hospital this morning gave him something else to focus on besides his own issues. Honestly, he's still not certain of anything that happened in that room. There's a part of his brain that's screaming in panic and disbelief, while another part believes without hesitation and is analyzing what to do next. Things like this don't happen in real life. Except, apparently, they do.

But now, he has to walk into his house and see his mother's glazed over expression. He has to face the questions and grief that spill from those eyes. But he always feels like a lost little boy when faced with the depth of her anguish, maybe since, as his mom, she was always the strong one for their family. He doesn't know how to be.

And he has to fix what he did to Brooke. Because she didn't deserve to be treated that way. He knows she's scared for Peyton; he just doesn't understand why that fear is stopping her from going to see her best friend. He opts to disregard the fact that his fear kept him away from the hospital too; that's different, since he's been dealing with the loss of Keith.

Lucas straightens his posture and pushes the door open with a soft exhalation. Here goes nothing.

Brooke glances up from the mug in her hand, one fist poised to knock on his mom's bedroom door.

"Luke. Um, I just…she hasn't…I mean…" She trails off miserably, averting her gaze to the door in front of her.

Guilt hits him like a ton of bricks. Before he can say anything, she's knocking on the door and calling out to his mom. "Karen? I made you some tea."

He quietly shuts the front door behind him and stands there awkwardly for a moment. Brooke ignores him while she waits for a response from his mom. Lucas says nothing, but shuffles over to stand by her side. In a low voice, he asks, "How's she doing?"

"She ate a little." Brooke murmurs without looking at him. "She's been in her room since Larry left and hasn't even opened the door."

As if to disprove the brunette's statement, the door opens, Karen reaching out to accept the mug of tea.

"Thank you, Brooke." Her voice is raspy and low, hand trembling a little.

Lucas swallows the lump in his throat as he studies his usually unflappable parent. Her eyes are puffy and red, indicators that she'd been crying, and her expression seems even emptier than when he saw her this morning. He just feels so helpless.

Karen's gaze lands on her son, and he sees a spark of relief that quickly fades.

"Lucas. Um, how's Peyton doing?"

He freezes for a second, not sure how to answer that question. They'd have him committed if he blurted out something like, 'yeah, I saw her spirit and had a nice chat and, by the way, she's still in a coma'.

"I didn't see any doctors or nurses, so I don't know, really. I just held her hand and talked to her."

She nods. "Yeah." Backing into the room, she moves to shut the door. "I'm gonna lay down a while."

"Mom—"

He's cut off when the door closes softly. He thinks it would've felt better if she'd slammed it or something. Anger could be a little easier to handle than this apathy. He can react to anger...maybe. But this facade of his mother leaves him flabbergasted and off balance, like any move is going to be the wrong one.

His girlfriend fidgets uncomfortably beside him, causing him to tear his thoughts away from his mom and onto her. He has to make amends.

"Brooke, I'm sorry."

Her gaze flies to him, expression hopeful.

He sighs, lightly taking her hand and leading her into the living room to the couch. He cradles her hand between both of his and tilts his head back for a moment before turning to face her.

"I'm sorry. I was just…I took out my anger at you because it was easier than admitting that I was mostly just mad at myself. About a lot of things. I didn't mean to be such an ass."

"Its okay, Luke." She smiles tremulously and squeezes his hand slightly. "I understand that. Just…don't forget that I'm here, okay? When you need to talk about…a lot of things."

"Thanks." He loves her for that, but already knows he won't be talking to her about things that are happening to him right now. If he mentions the Peyton one, she'll think he's insane; he's not ready to talk about Keith yet, or what happened in that school. Well, he kind of already has talked about that, and he's not ready to say more at this time. There's not a whole lot left right now, actually. Maybe he'll be ready eventually. And he's grateful to know he has a least one person who'll listen.

"Lucas?"

"Hmm?"

He watches her expression change a little, into something he can't decipher.

"How is Peyton? Really?"

"The same, I guess. Unconscious and alone." The anger starts seeping in again with that thought; he battles it back, not wanting to explode at Brooke for a second time.

She flinches at his blunt phrase, expression stricken.

"Brooke." He carefully modulates his tone, needing to avoid a repeat of this morning. "Why?"

She gives him a confused look, making him sigh in impatience.

"This morning, you said you haven't gone to see Peyton because you were here with me and mom."

"Yeah. I wanted to be here when you needed me."

He lightly shakes his head. "No. Don't use me or my mom as an excuse, Brooke. Peyton's your friend. Why haven't you been to see her?"

Her chin starts quivering, her eyes rapidly blink against the threat of tears, and she attempts to tug her hand from his. He tightens his grip, moving his other hand to cup her jaw, keeping her face where he can see it.

A stifled sob escapes her mouth, the words almost tripping over themselves to get out. "It's my fault! I was right there with her when that gun went off. I didn't…I should've…God, Luke, I just left, I didn't even check and make sure she was behind me. I thought she was, but I didn't make sure!"

"Brooke." It's more air than sound in the face of her sobs. He's speechless. He remembers her running to him, shouting that she lost Peyton by the library. He remembers the utter chaos as people practically trampled their way out of that school.

"Brooke." This time his tone is stronger. He tenderly wipes tears off her cheeks, "Look at me."

She shudders, using her free hand to swipe across her eyes, as she controls her breathing. But she looks at him.

"It. Is. Not. Your. Fault." Lucas enunciates, wanting to get the point across. "It's not. That day…that day was insanely crazy, Brooke. People were everywhere, running in every direction. You were scared, and that's understandable. You can't blame yourself for being scared and getting out of there."

"But I should have made sure. Peyton would have. She wouldn't have left me behind, she would have—"

"Brooke! You don't know that. It didn't happen that way. And Peyton…she would not want you to think like that, I know it."

More tears trickle out, Lucas rubbing them away almost without thought. He watches Brooke take in his words, then seemingly wave them away.

"I…I just feel guilty. For leaving her behind. And alone." It's barely a whisper, but he hears her.

Lucas sighs, standing and pulling Brooke up with him. "I think Peyton would understand. She wouldn't blame you for that. But she might blame you if you keep leaving her alone."

She chokes out a gasp, hand flying to her mouth, eyes full of sorrow and shattering composure. He very gently nudges her to the door. "Go see her, Brooke. She needs her best friend. She needs you. And you need her."

She gives him a shaky nod, turning and pulling open the front door. Before stepping through, she swings around and wraps her arms around his neck, hugging him fervently, whispering against his skin, "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Pretty Girl." He hugs her back, detangling her arms and pressing a kiss to her forehead. "You go see your best friend, and I'm going to check in on mine."

She smiles lightly. "Okay."

0.o o_o o.0

The first thing Haley does when she sees him is throw her arms around him. And starts tearing up, voice shaking as she rambles on about nothing, motioning him to sit down with her and Nathan.

Nathan puts his hand on Lucas' shoulder when he takes the seat next to him, mumbling, "I'm sorry, man."

Lucas is a little confused as to what he's sorry about. They already spoke at the funeral for their uncle, both expressing their grief. They don't need to do it again. Once is about all he can handle for that.

Nathan sees that look and clarifies, "For not going to the wake. We…well, me and Haley needed to be alone together."

Lucas nods in response, not really caring about that right now. He well understands the desire to hide from the rest of the world. And he knows that Nathan and Haley had their own traumatic experience while trapped in the school that day. They need to grieve for that, in their own way, on their own time, and he won't begrudge them how they choose to deal with it.

"You don't have to apologize. I get it."

Haley seats herself on his other side, clasping his hand in hers.

"What's on your mind, Lucas?" Her voice is soft, compassionate, and so very…Haley.

His best friend is insanely smart. She's also odd and philosophical. Maybe, in a way, she might have some insight into Peyton's current predicament. It's worth a try, anyway.

"I was only…Hales, do you believe in Heaven?"

She looks startled at the train of thought.

"I mean, do you think it's possible for…spirits to, I don't know…get stuck? Like, somewhere between here and Heaven, if it exists?"

She studies him confusedly, pursing her lips in thought. "I don't know, Luke." She shrugs helplessly. "I think that the people we love and lose are always with us. I think they watch over us. That doesn't necessarily mean there is or isn't a Heaven, just that I don't really know."

"Okay, but what about, when you hear people talking—people who almost die—and they talk about seeing things or being ghosts or something?"

"Luke—"

"You mean, a near death experience?" Nathan interrupts, drawing Lucas' attention.

"Yeah." He nods. "Yeah, like that. People talk about lights, and angels… I was just wondering what all of that meant, you know?"

Haley sighs, rubbing his hand in an absent, albeit comforting, gesture. "I think, some things have to be taken on Faith. Some people who come close to death may very well have experiences where they encounter those they loved. Maybe it's a way to tell them to hold on, or to let them know its okay to let go. Either way, a lot of it boils down to Faith, and a person's belief in things beyond our world."

Nathan studies his brother, making him squirm a little. Lucas doesn't think Haley's words are much help or very informative, but any more questions on that topic might make her suspicious enough to nag at him until he explains. Or, with the way he's looking at him, Nathan may just beat her to the punch. Before Lucas gets too uncomfortable under his brother's gaze, Haley steals his attention again, playing with a little tin box that had been on the coffee table. A very recognizable box.

"Hales?" He motions to her hands and gives her a look of bewilderment.

She purses her lips. "Nathan and I had written a few predictions when I first came home. When we were…shaky. I wanted to show him what I wrote about us."

"And what I wrote about us." Nathan breaks in.

Haley continues, "I, um, saw some of yours, too."

"It doesn't really matter does it?" Lucas bitterly states. "Keith's dead. None of them are gonna come true now."

Nathan sends him a sympathetic glance, but Lucas can tell his brother doesn't really understand, nor does he know what to say about any of it. Not that Lucas cares. He was so close to having the family he always wanted, when it was cruelly snatched away by a boy Lucas thought he'd known.

"I know that, I do." Haley murmurs, sniffling a little. "But Lucas, Keith loved you. He was your father in every way that matters. He would not want you to feel guilty, or be…bitter about any of this."

Lucas scoffs, shaking his head a little in disbelief.

"He wouldn't!" Haley turns, facing him earnestly. "I know you. I can guess that you're blaming yourself for why he went in, or not being able to save him—"

Nathan interrupts, "I couldn't save him, either."

"But it's not your fault. He went in there—to help—because that's the kind of person he was. That's the kind of person he raised you to be."

"Yeah man. If you hadn't gone in, we would have had to attend Peyton's funeral."

Lucas knows they're trying to help, and it was sort of working until the last sentence. If they care so much, why has Peyton basically been an afterthought? Neither of them has even seen her since before the shooting. He can't think of when either of them last asked about her; at least he and Brooke had done that much. Sporadically. Rarely. Self loathing sucks him in, burying him under a ton of conflicting and nearly incoherent thoughts.

Haley continues, "'And Luke, you think none of your predictions have come true? Just look at this year, the first one on your list—'"

He cuts her off before she can finish, not really caring about what he wrote a few months ago. Anger and resentment are building in his chest, squeezing out all of the air in his lungs. He needs to get out before he suffocates in it. He needs some time alone.

"I have to go." Standing abruptly, he ignores a hurt Haley and a startled Nathan, striding to the door as fast as he can. The only thing he's focusing on is the thought of getting outside. Being able to breathe. He needs to breathe.

"Luke!" Haley cries helplessly, floundering a little, trying to catch him.

But he's out the door, gulping in huge amounts of air as soon as it hits his face. He pulls the car keys from his pocket, before changing his mind. He shouldn't be driving in this condition. Without further thought, he banks left, intent on no real destination at this point, but needing to move. To get away.

He hears footsteps jogging behind him as soon as his breathing slows enough to pay attention to his surroundings; he turns to see a concerned Nathan.

"You okay, man?"

"I don't really know right now." It's an honest answer. He's just had a minor anxiety attack or something, and he doesn't know why.

"Okay. Um…okay."

Lucas has to give him a small grin at those very profound words. Nathan makes a face at him.

"Anyway, I guess I'll leave you to your thoughts. But we're here for you if you need us."

"Thanks, man."

"Um," Nathan hesitates a moment. "By any chance, have you heard anything about how Peyton's doing? I know she's still in the hospital, but I was wondering if there's been a change, you know?"

The anger washes in again. No one seemed to care before. At least, not enough to go see for themselves within the last six days. Yes, he did the same thing, but he also fixed that. He's tired of people leaving her behind, despite the circumstances surrounding the last few days. So he doesn't bother to hide the iciness in his reply.

"Go see for yourself, Nate. Except for Larry, she doesn't have a friend in the world."

He doesn't look back as he walks away; he kind of wants those words to hurt Nathan. He knows being alone hurts Peyton, almost more than anything else in the world. And they all left her that way.

0.o o_o o.0

It's almost too depressing to watch. Peyton's been sitting there, listening to her dad tell her unconscious self some stories. She loves him for that, but at the same time, it scares her.

He did the same thing when Anna was unconscious in the hospital. Right before she died.

She hates seeing him worried, she hates that he's alone in that worry, and she hates that she's the cause of his worry. It would be so much easier if she didn't worry about him.

She's relieved when he says something about grabbing lunch in the cafeteria, before leaning down to lightly kiss her other self's cheek. She holds her breath, hoping to feel that sensation on her own face. Nothing.

As soon as Larry leaves, Peyton slumps down into her chair, pulling her legs up underneath her. She figures she had some unrealistic hope from Lucas' visit this morning. Six days with no one—doctors, nurses, her dad—being aware of her presence, then bam, she's noticed. She was hoping maybe someone else might see her now too, since something's apparently changed. She doesn't know what, though.

She is surprised to see the person who walks through the door next. Actually, that's an understatement. She's so shocked by her visitor, she nearly falls through her chair, which freaks her out a little.

As is standard, she's not noticed when the person walks right by her, straight for the 'sleeping' girl in the bed.

"Hi, P. Sawyer. It's me."

Peyton's eyebrows shoot up at the tears that already start trickling down her best friend's face. She doesn't think she looks that bad.

Brooke pulls a chair closer to the bed, sitting down and twining Peyton's hand within both of hers. She seems to be trying to keep her composure. Peyton's curious about what she has to say; she's happy her best friend is here. She's also hurt, angry, and frustrated that she hasn't been there. And she's not sure she wants to let go of those negative feelings any time soon. But it's Brooke. It's always been hard for Peyton to stay mad at her.

Brooke doesn't really say anything; she just bows her head over their joined hands and sobs. Harshly.

On instinct, Peyton jumps from her chair. "Brooke! Hey, hey, hey! Don't cry."

Half-hoping for a reaction, Peyton attempts to touch her friend, wanting to comfort her. To no avail. She feels so damn helpless; she's never just stood back while Brooke cried, not without trying something to fix the problem. If she could cry right now…well, she feels like crying, but it probably wouldn't help the situation any.

She stands there, wanting to cry but unable to, wanting to soothe Brooke but unable to even simply touch her. In a way, it's harder to be helpless when it's Brooke than when it's her dad. Probably because she's always championed her very sociable, rather insecure, and entirely childish more-of-a-sister best friend. Her dad's usually gone; Brooke's normally the only family she has around.

A little more-so now, since the recent loss of her second mom, Ellie. It was back to being Brooke and Peyton against the world, same as before.

"Peyton. Peyton, please…just wake up." She sniffles, pulling up their united hands, pressing her forehead against them. "Squeeze my hand if you can hear me, okay? Please?"

She tries, she really does. By clenching her own fists tightly, hoping to at least cause a twitch to the fingers of her unconscious body. By sliding her hand right through her 'real' hand, attempting to move it. By trying to fold Brooke's hands within hers. Nothing works.

"Ugh," Brooke sits up a little straighter, swiping one hand beneath her eyes. "I promised myself I wouldn't break down. Um, so…okay. Since you can't tell me any gossip on your end right now, I'll give you the low down on mine."

Peyton scoffs out a laugh. Though she can't be surprised. Typical Brooke, to deal with emotions by shutting down, shopping, drinking, or gossiping.

Brooke scrunches up her face before admitting sheepishly, "I guess I don't really have any gossip, either. I've just been with Lucas and Karen, you know?"

"Yeah. I get that." Peyton just needs to respond, to feel a connection to her best friend; like they're having a conversation. She's missed that.

"I've been really worried about Karen. She's so…different. She just holes herself up in her room and doesn't really let anyone see her break." A tiny smirk, "Kind of like another person I know, whenever she's dealing with something big."

Peyton chuckles lightly at the not-so-subtle dig at her coping habits. She really does understand where Karen's coming from. Sometimes it's just easier to hide away from the world and pretend for a while. Just until you can gather your strength and come into the light again. Or until someone drags you out.

"Um, well. I guess I'm just working up the courage to say something to you." With every word Brooke's voice softens, until it's barely a whisper.

Peyton's curious. "For what?"

Brooke takes a shaky breath and wipes once again at the steady trails of tears. "I'm so sorry. For leaving you behind. I'm scared…that you won't wake up. Because, if I had stayed, if I had turned around to make sure you were there…m-maybe…maybe I could've helped you get out of that school. You would have gotten help s-sooner. You wouldn't be h-here right now." Her voice trails off in shuddering sobs, as she tries to get her emotions under control.

"Oh, Brooke." It's a broken whisper. Peyton had never stopped to look at it that way. It kills her that her best friend did. She'd just been glad that Brooke had gotten out, and was safe. "Honey, no. I'm glad you got out. Don't blame yourself for this."

"And…I-I just…I felt guilty. Like I didn't deserve to get to see you."

"B.—"

"Then, Lucas basically told me that was crap." A watery laugh. "Just a lot nicer. He implied that staying away may be helping me, but that you deserved better. And you do."

Peyton says nothing. She can't help feeling a little stung at her friend's admission. At the fact that Brooke was basically told to come; she didn't choose to on her own. And maybe that's unfair, to hold it against her. But after being basically ignored since she fell into a coma, it makes her wonder just what kind of impact it would have if she didn't regain consciousness.

"Anyway…I'm sorry I didn't come sooner. But you have to wake up soon, okay? You have to be okay, P. Sawyer, because I love you. I need you to be okay. We all do." Brooke looks up hopefully at an unresponsive, still comatose Peyton.

But bitterness creeps in as she stares incredulously at the brunette. "Really? It takes a week before anyone besides my dad cares to show up. Are you sure about that? That I'm so damn important to anyone else?"

It's moments like these that Peyton really wishes she could be awake for these conversations, to express her feelings when things like that are said. Or that she could cry from the frustration, the anger, and the sheer, unadulterated hurt she feels.

Brooke sighs in dejection at the lack of response and lightly runs her thumb over the back of Peyton's hand. "Like I said, I've mostly been with Karen and Lucas. And I'm really, really worried about how he's doing, you know? I'm trying to be there for him, but it's hard. He's not someone who likes to talk about things, I guess." She frowns a little. "He's just been…pushing me away. No matter how hard I try to get him to let me in, he won't. But I keep trying anyway."

"God, really?" Peyton shakes her head, crossing to the other side of the room. She needs to physically distance herself from this conversation before she screams. Not that anyone would hear. "You don't come for six days, and when you do, you tell me about how hard you've been trying for Lucas? Am I really that disposable to you? What about hoes over bros…or is that just when it's convenient?" She laughs mockingly to herself, before turning to face her friend again.

Brooke falls silent for a few moments, and Peyton's relieved to have the time to rein her own emotions in a little. It does no good to get worked up over things she can't do anything about right now. And deep down she knows Brooke doesn't mean it like that. The brunette likes to hide a little behind her bubbly mask, avoiding or ignoring things that bring her pain. She's always done that, ever since the day she realized no matter what she did, her parents weren't going to pay attention enough to care.

She does feel guilty when Brooke starts crying in earnest again, but at the same time, she's slightly mollified. Because what Brooke said, makes her feel like crap. And she can't cry, so someone should. Even though dealing with crying people makes her nervous.

Almost as if she knows what Peyton's thinking—maybe they really are as close as they've always claimed—Brooke scrubs at her face with both hands, letting go of Peyton for the first time since she came in. The blonde's floored to actually note an absence of feeling. Brooke didn't seem to notice Peyton's attempts at touch, but Peyton noticed hers...kind of. It wasn't on the same level as feeling when Lucas held her hand, but it was better than the nothing that came with everyone else.

Once Brooke's tears are calmed some, she confesses, "Trying to help Lucas is easier than seeing you like this, P. Sawyer. You're my best friend; you've always been so strong. It's too hard seeing you so…helpless. Add in the guilt, and…there you go."

Sighing, Peyton drops down into the chair beside Brooke, staring at her unconscious self and nodding. "Yeah." This roller coaster of emotion is exhausting. But, strangely enough, she feels better for having expressed it to herself. And she's never been able to hold a grudge against Brooke; so she lets it go.

Brooke stands, situating herself so that she's hovering over the blonde laying in the hospital bed. She leans over and lightly presses a kiss to her cheek, pulling back to smooth some hair away from Peyton's face. She doesn't feel the kiss, but she swears she felt fingers on her temple. Either that, or she wants to feel that sensation so much, she's imagining it. Peyton can't tell and thinking about it will only make her hurt sharpen, so she pushes it aside for the time being and focuses on her best friend.

"I'm sorry for leaving you behind. I'm not going to anymore, okay?" Brooke lets a small smile grace her face.

"Okay." Peyton smiles as well.

"I promise I'll try to do better when you wake up. Just wake up, Peyton."

"I'm trying." Peyton promises. "And I'll do better, too."

With one last watery sigh, Brooke walks to the door and pulls it open, hesitating in the entryway. She glances back at the bed. "I love you, P. Sawyer."

"I love you, too, B. Davis."

A/N: What did you think? Anyone want to take a guess about anything, I'd love to hear it! Hope you enjoyed...thanks for reading!