A/N: Massively huge THANK YOU for everyone who's reading and reviewing! I'm years behind in replying, but I promise to respond as soon as I can :) They are all definitely appreciated! Your comments help keep this story story going, and I'm doing my best to make sure I keep updating and not let it fall to abandonment when life interferes, lol.

Per usual, I don't own OTH or it's characters...just the journey and all mistakes as it's unbeta'd. Actually not sure I own the journey either, since this chapter wasn't in my plans...the characters insisted they have it! ;P

Chapter title comes from a lyric in "One Step Forward" by Desert Rose Band.

Enjoy!

Ch10: One Step Forward And Two Steps Back/Nobody Gets Too Far Like That

Peyton contentedly hums to herself as she absently wanders around her hospital room. A small smile creeps over her lips when her thoughts bounce back to the afternoon. It had been a good day. She got to sit and listen to her friends share fun memories, she got to see her dad with a smile on his face, and she got to dance around playing with the boy she loves.

A low laugh escapes at the memory and a warmth rushes through her. Admittedly, the boy can't sing and he can't dance, but she loves that he did it anyway. Just to have a little fun. He needed it. They both did.

At the loud click of the door opening, she glances over, only mildly interested when two nurses enter. Stacy, her regular evening-shift nurse, heads straight to the monitors, flipping open Peyton's chart and recording the newest information. Peyton leans closer, trying to sneak a look at the rest of her chart. Not that she understands everything on it...she's just curious.

"Stace? Foley level's not where it should be." The nurse straightens from her crouching position by the foot of the bed. Peyton follows both women's gazes to the saline for her IV drip, noting only that it's still mostly full. The way she thought it usually was.

"Damn it." Stacy starts adjusting the tubing. "There's a kink. Who'd you switch shifts with...Mel? How'd she not see that?"

The other nurse, Jessica, reaches for the chart on the table where Stacy had tossed it. "Well...there's no info recorded for this morning or this afternoon." She glances up with an annoyed expression. "My guess is she didn't even bother to check."

Stacy sighs. "That explains the slight dehydration I noticed."

"Ugh. I told Mel, when we switched, to pay extra attention to this one." Jessica's eyes flicker to the unconscious girl. "Plus, she was supposed to get physio today. No note of that, either."

"Yeah, that was rescheduled for tomorrow, 'cause Dr. Kaur was called to Children's in Charlotte." Stacy explains, giving a light squeeze to the bag of saline. Peyton wrinkles her nose, following the path of the tubing from the drip to the needle inserted in her arm. She hates needles.

"So Mel decided not to do her job and come at all?" There's a hint of bitterness in her tone that has the other woman raising her eyebrows.

"Whoa, Jess. I get you're upset, but...professional distance? Remember that?"

Jessica ignores her, leaning against the bed and reaching for the pillows to help Stacy reposition Peyton to her opposite side. The blonde teen kind of always feels weirded out when they do that. She knows it's to prevent bedsores from forming, but watching them move her around like a giant doll is unsettling. She lightly shudders, quickly averting her eyes and skirting the bed to seat herself in one of the chairs on the other side.

"Jess?"

The nurse sighs, "I know, I know...the whole distance thing. But I...I feel sorry for this one. She's alone, except for her dad. I don't even think anyone'd notice—besides him—if we moved her to a different room every shift. It makes me sad, you know? So during the day, I make sure when I come in, to talk a little, maybe open the blinds, stuff like that. I told Mel to do that."

Peyton's taken aback. She had thought Jessica was always like that and did those things for everyone. She just gave off that kind of vibe, walking around with bouncy steps and a near-constant smile on her face. Peyton isn't sure she likes knowing the woman feels sorry for her, and that's why she does it. She is sure that she doesn't like the knots forming in her stomach at the pity on both women's faces.

"Yeah." Stacy agrees. "But maybe that's why Mel stayed away today. I picked up extra hours and came on shift towards the tail end of a group visit to her." The skepticism is blatantly obvious on Jess' expression, so after one look, Stacy rushes to elaborate. "It's true! I think there were a couple kids from school. Apparently they were here most of the day, telling stories and talking about going on a trip once she wakes up."

Jess gathers up the dirty blanket off the bed, rolling it into a ball and shoving it into the rolling hamper. She scoffs, "About time, if you ask me...if it's even true. Even Eddie, down the hall, has visitors constantly, and he was only admitted the day before yesterday!"

"He's a kid. People always visit kids." Stacy explains, unfolding the clean linen to drape over Peyton's unconscious form. "Besides, the girl hasn't been ignored." She gestures with her head towards the table across the room. "See those?"

Jess shoots her an incredulous look. "She's a kid, too! And the flowers? One from the school administration, one from the city council, some from her dad, and some from me. Oh yeah, I totally see the love, here."

"You bring her flowers?"

Peyton stares at the young nurse with wide eyes. She's never really thought about where all of the vases had come from. She'd seen her dad bring some in, and had assumed her friends had sent some. Turns out, she assumed wrong.

Jess' face flushes. "The only person who really comes in here is her dad. This way, it looks a little more cheerful for him. And like I said, I feel bad she doesn't have anyone. How's she supposed to get through this without any support? And you can't say no one knows about what happened, 'cause it's splashed all over the news."

"Kids can't always visit, Jess, you know that." Stacy smiles at her friend softly, pushing the hampers and table back to their positions.

She nods. "I know. But they can at least check in. Send a card. Flowers. Something to let her know they care and she's not alone in this."

Peyton watches the women move towards the door, Stacy shaking her head, "You can't save everyone. You can only do your job. And sometimes that little extra."

Right before they close the door, Jess turns and sends a sad wave to the girl in the bed. "Night, Peyton. See you tomorrow."

And just like that, the feeling of contentment is shattered. Peyton takes in a shuddery breath, chest feeling tight, as she draws her legs up, wrapping her arms around them and burying her face against her knees. Squeezing her eyes shut as memories from the early days assail her.

After she'd 'woken' up next to herself, she'd freaked out. Tried everything to get someone's attention. Worried endlessly about what was going on. Questioned what was going on. She'd nearly lost her damn mind. And she really only had one distraction.

Every single time she'd heard the audible click of the door, she would quickly jerk her head up, hopeful gaze on the entrance, waiting for someone she loved to walk through. Only to have her hopes constantly dashed, when in walked a nurse or doctor. Never anyone else.

She'd had a lot of time to sit in that room, to think, to justify, to excuse. To wait. After countless hours, she'd learned not to expect anyone. Not to be hopeful. Learned to rebuild those walls she had taken such pains to break down, to revert in habit a little bit and protect whatever part of her soul she could.

But she'd continually catch herself snapping her gaze to that door at every turn of the knob anyway.

When hours became days, she'd seriously wondered why she bothered to care. No one else did. Except her dad. She understood that people were reeling from the school shooting. She knew people would be dealing with their own situations and emotions in the aftermath. She expected people to put themselves first a little bit, before worrying about anyone else. But she ached every time that door opened and killed her hopes.

But for some reason, no matter how many times that happened, she never stopped turning to look. Something deep within her heart wouldn't let her.

If she had stopped, she would have missed it happening. Glancing up with no expectations, only to find one person she honestly hadn't anticipated. Not with the news her dad had shared with her. Yet, there he was. She'd been paralyzed with shock. Beyond disbelief. And underneath it all, she'd let the wave of love washing over her erode some of that wall she'd built. A wave that had become a flood when blue eyes settled on her. Noticed her.

Sighing against her knees, Peyton pulls herself away from remembering. It's different now. She's not alone anymore, and neither is her dad. Sure, it had taken a while for that to be true. And it mostly happened at the insistence of her first visitor. But it did happen. That has to mean something. She ignores the fact that maybe it doesn't.

A resounding click has her head jerking up, hoping to meet familiar blue eyes.

She does, but they're not the ones she expected to see. Puzzled, she tracks the boy's movement as he beelines to the girl on the bed, watching him heave a sigh and fiddle with her hair.

"Sawyer, how can I do my trick when you've killed the curls?" A grin tugs at Nathan's mouth. He slides his hand to clasp hers, reaching over to drag a chair closer with his free hand.

The chair she happens to be occupying. With a little squeak, she hurries out of it, darting to the side of the bed as the brunette boy takes a seat. Perching on the bed next to 'her' legs, she studies the nervous expression on his face. Smiling to herself at why he must be here. "Freaked out, Nate?" She lightly teases, not expecting an answer.

But she has to laugh at his next words. "I'm freaking out a little." A wry grin. "Okay, a lot."

Peyton nods. "I did, too. So did Lucas."

"I've only visited twice, and both times...well, this sounds crazy, but I swear I saw you. I mean, obviously, I'm seeing you, since you're here, and—but I saw...another you." He stumbles to a halt, jerking his hand through his hair in frustration. "I don't—it's like, you're...haunting yourself, or something. Does that make sense?"

"Not at all." She quips.

Before she can say anything else, he's continuing, "Anyway, I came back to... I guess to see if it happens again. Or if I'm just crazy. Lack of sleep and worry, probably." He looks around with a combination of wariness and hopefulness. She waits with bated breath. But nothing happens.

He sighs, lowering his gaze to their hands. "Probably just seeing things." Raising his eyes to 'her' face. "I also wanted—I didn't get a chance to say this earlier, so I figured now's a good time. I never said it, but...thank you."

"What?" She's perplexed, not knowing where he's taking this.

"For...being you. You know, being there for me when Haley was on tour, listening to me. Last night, we were talking about it a little, and I started thinking that I never told you your support meant a lot to me. Especially when you had your own crap going on. Made me think I suck at this stuff, 'cause I'm not doing the same for you."

He chuckles lowly, shaking his head. "So I'm here now. If you wanna talk..." he trails off and makes a face, "Or, you know, wake up."

He wiggles her hand cajolingly, an action that lends a charming air to the situation. She can't help the small laugh. "Thanks. And I'm working on it."

"People don't always leave, okay?" He turns serious, causing her to blink at him. "Remember? Sometimes they come back. You sketched that for me, about Hales. But it applies here, too. You gotta come back...we need you to, all of us."

A rush of affection flows through her for this boy. He's grown so much in this last year, living up to the potential she'd seen in him when they first started dating. She's glad she can count him as one of her friends, especially considering how bad they'd been when their relationship ended.

She watches him fondly, as he contemplates the unconscious girl. "You gotta wake up. Put some of that stubbornness to work, Peyton, 'cause I know you're strong enough to do it. And don't even try denying the stubborn streak!" He grins. "You used to yell that dating me was like beating your head against a wall, but you still did it!"

His words startle another gurgle of laughter from her. He's chuckling too, when his eyes land on her. They widen, and laughter fades as he stares, the color in his face draining away. She bites her lip, waiting for the moment he shakes it away, just like before.

It doesn't come. "H—Hey." He says dumbfounded.

"Hi." She whispers back, feeling overwhelmed.

He furrows his brow, still staring. He leans in slightly, croaking out, "Are you...really..."

She nods emphatically, "Yeah. I'm here. This is happening. Really."

"I don't—I can't." He tries, blinking his eyes rapidly. His hand is shaking as he raises it to his face. It hovers there, like he's too afraid to rub at his eyes. Almost as if she'll disappear if he does. "I see you...but I...what are you trying to say?"

She raises her eyebrows and inwardly groans. Seen but not heard. However, it's more than she got with anyone else so far, and it's never a bad thing to be noticed by someone. She smiles gently and shakes her head lightly at him, indicating her words weren't vital.

He nods his head at her. "Well...just wake up, okay?"

She smiles, mouthing "I'm trying." Making sure to carefully enunciate the words, hoping it'll be easier for him to understand.

"Good." Nathan squeezes 'her' hand tightly and leans back into his chair. "You keep doing that."

Peyton wants to grin but she can't, sitting half frozen and clenching her hands together in her lap. She's freaking out. Nathan can actually see her sitting there, can actually communicate with her. And she's nervous. Scared to really move, lest it end. A tiny voice in her head screaming at her to make more of an effort instead of impersonating a rock. Another voice shouting it's all gonna end soon anyway, so why bother. She's more confused than anything, the feeling heightening with every silent moment that stretches out between them. She can feel her breath speeding, waiting for something to happen.

The last sight she sees is him opening his mouth to speak, before everything goes blank.

As the blonde sitting on the bed simply vanishes right in front of him, Nathan brings his hand to his eyes, pressing hard. Groaning, "What the hell?" He's freaking out. Not sure if what just happened was real or not. If his mind's playing tricks on him, hinting at something he wants to believe. That she's trying to come back, and not giving up. That she's not really gone in the sense of being unaware of them all when they talk to her. He really wants to believe she can hear them. He really wants to believe she'll be okay.

He really wants to believe it's not all in his head. But maybe it is.

0.o o_o o.0

Lucas frowns at the little rubber basketball in his hand before hurtling it at the wall. A satisfying thunk echoes in the air as it flies back to be easily caught. If only the rest of life could be so simple. To be as predictable as the rhythm of his little game.

But it wouldn't be life if it was.

He sighs, thinking over the events that occurred earlier in the day. Specifically, Peyton. The girl who had popped into his room unannounced, and got him to dance around with her, when he knows he's not much of a dancer. Besides, how humiliating would that have been, to have someone walk in when he's essentially being goofy...by himself. He rolls his eyes, barely catching the ball before it slams into his face from the force with which he'd launched it.

That's not why he's brooding right now. The reason for that is the awkward way he'd made his excuses to not go to the hospital with her and see everyone. He didn't want to see everyone. Especially when his emotions were so rawly exposed. Like one look at him and everyone would recognize the depth of his feelings for Peyton. Everyone except the girl who had smiled sweetly and murmured a comment about it being hard for him to see Brooke and her understanding that. The girl who suggested he spend the day with his mom and then vanished from his room before he could even attempt to correct her false assumption.

The girl who only saw him as a friend. A great friend.

And he's not sure how to change that or if he should even risk it. Especially with everything else going on with both of them right now. He doesn't want to chance putting himself out there, only to lose the safety she gives him. He doesn't want to lose her from his life in any way. Hence the brooding.

A clearing of a throat has him missing his next catch, the ball bouncing off the wall next to his head. He glances at it bemusedly for a second before focusing his attention on the girl lingering in the doorway. He merely raises an eyebrow, not really in the mood to socialize.

"Hey." Her voice is timid, but she smiles.

Loosing a breath, he automatically shifts over, creating a spot next to him on the bed. "Hey."

"Sooo... can the friend thing start now?"

"Sure." Lucas narrows his eyes at the brunette, taking note of her distressed expression and self-conscious fidgeting. "Of course."

Brooke delicately lowers herself right next to him, staring at her hands. He can practically see the tension radiating off of her, sending an alarm pinging through his mind. But he doesn't get the chance to question her. She simply breaks down in tears.

He pulls her into his side, slightly discomfited and unsure how to proceed. A little anxious as to the cause of her tears. She'd spent the day visiting Peyton, so his first instinct is that something went wrong. But rationality intervenes, telling him she would've said that before asking about them being friends. So he bites back his questions and lets her cry, rubbing soothing circles on her back and gently rocking her from side to side.

When she's limply propped against him and the sniffling has ceased, he gently eases her back, exerting just enough pressure to have her facing him. She swipes at her flushed face, eyes darting everywhere except him.

Stiffening, she pulls away from his touch a little more, babbling, "Oh god. This is embarrassing. I didn't mean—I just wanted to—"

"Hey!" He interrupts, "It's okay. You don't have to apologize." He smiles at her when she finally brings her gaze to him. "Part of friendship, right?"

She sighs out a watery laugh, nodding a little, "Right. Thanks. For letting me fall apart."

"What's up?" He's curious, of course he is, but he also wants to move the conversation along. He wants to ask about Peyton, and how the visit had gone. But something tells him bringing that up now, wouldn't help the friendship thing he and Brooke are trying out.

Apparently he doesn't have to bring up the blonde. She does it. "I don't know what's taking Peyton so long to wake up. The doctors don't have any answers. I'm…scared, Luke."

"I know. Me, too." He slumps against the pillows behind him as she twists so she's sitting cross legged in front of him.

"You are?"

He frowns. "Of course I am! It's hard waiting. Not knowing."

She nods, studying his face intently. Almost too carefully, which makes him feel a little ill at ease. He has the absurd notion that she's trying to see straight down into his soul, trying to see something specific. But maybe she finds it, because a resigned look graces her features, before melting into a serious and brave countenance.

"Luke? Friends are honest with each other, right?"

He blinks, startled. "Yeah. I mean, I'd like to think so, for the most part. Otherwise, it'd probably be hard to call yourself friends, if you think you can't be."

Brooke quirks the corner of her mouth into a ghost of a smirk. "Good. Remember that."

"Why? What's going on?" He regards her curiously. She's not normally this nebulous when she's trying to make a point.

"Are you in love with Peyton?" The blunt question leaves him at a loss for words, dropping his gaze as he weakly gestures. He doesn't know how to answer that. Not only because he and Brooke had barely broken up themselves, but because he had just started to face that fact.

"I, um. Of course I care about her." He dodges the question, zeroing in on a different level of it.

She scoffs, rolling her eyes. "Be honest, please. Just do that." She sucks in a deep breath. "I'm not mad, and I won't be…I just—I only want the truth. Okay? Don't try to lie. Not now, not about this."

Still he hesitates, studying her guardedly. She stares back, eyes rimmed red, but oddly settled. That clinches it. He won't hurt her by lying now, not after their previous talk about trust. Besides, if they're really going to make an attempt at remaining friends, she'll have to know he can be honest with her. Even if she hates what he has to say.

"I am." His voice is low, but confident. His gaze steady.

He witnesses the quick flinch, and the small catch to her breathing, but she stays calm. Dark hazel eyes walled off and tearless.

He resumes, "But I need you to know that it in no way takes away from what we shared."

Her mouth compresses. "Right."

"It doesn't." He insists quietly. "It's…an entirely separate situation. Different."

"Okay." She whispers, blinking furiously. "Okay."

A quiet descends. Slightly uncomfortable. But he thinks that maybe it's the most honest quiet they've shared. There's no doubt, no anger, no lies. It's a slightly new feeling with this girl, but he figures that maybe it means they can actually make a friendship work.

"Will you do something for me?" She breaks the silence.

He focuses his eyes on her warily. "What?"

"Life's too short, you know, to waste time. You never know when s-someone might not…be there." She shudders, tears swimming into her eyes now. "I—"

"Okay." He cuts her off, not sure if he wants her to say what he thinks she's leading to. He refuses to consider the possibility of Peyton not being there.

She nods jerkily. "Yeah." A beat passes, then she slides off the bed, rising to her feet and heading straight to the door.

Lucas sits up straight, taken aback with the sudden end to their conversation. "Brooke?"

She turns around in the doorway, sending him a level stare. Her voice raspy and uneven. "I think I lied. Maybe I'm not ready to be your friend yet. I just—I wanted the truth. I needed to know."

He frowns, "You and Peyton—"

"Are friends." She stresses sternly. "She didn't do anything." Brooke scoffs, gazing sideways into space with a mumbled, "This time."

He pretends not to hear that. And sends a quick prayer of thanks that he'd never revealed what happened in the library that day. Grateful that Peyton still has her best friend, and that Brooke doesn't seem to be letting him get in the way of that this time. He doesn't want to. Not again.

Lucas catches her eyes and nods. "Thanks, for that."

"I'm not ready to be your friend. But I'm hers and she's mine." She shrugs. "So don't expect me to make it easy."

With that, she gives a tap to the door frame and disappears around it. He vaguely hears the front door open and close, but he sits there, mind running in different directions.

So maybe there are still a few lies between him and his ex-girlfriend. And there probably always will be. At least, as far as the situation surrounding Peyton is concerned. He won't mention the kiss, and he won't share her words with anyone. Mostly because he doesn't want to be the reason—again—that Brooke and Peyton fall apart. He doesn't want Peyton to have to feel guilty, especially since he doesn't think she did anything wrong.

He would've done the same thing if their roles had been reversed.

But he knows Peyton, knows she'd blame herself if her best friend got hurt because of this. And he knows Brooke, knows she'd let Peyton take the blame for it. And he knows that he'd probably want to help, but would only it make it worse. No, keeping it secret is the best course for everyone. Keeping it secret from Brooke. He fully intends on bringing it up to Peyton…eventually.

Sighing, Lucas runs his hand through his hair. Looking around absently, rummaging among the blankets until his hand closes around his little basketball.

Letting his thoughts scatter as he continues his rhythmic pattern of release, catch, release.

A promise not to waste time. Something that should make him want to rush to Peyton's side and confess his feelings. But it has the opposite effect at the moment. Because it brings to mind last year, when he sat on the sidelines disconnected from both Peyton and Brooke, and watched the chasm between the two widen with each day. When he saw them reconnect, but was still relegated to the sidelines.

He's scared of that happening again. Of being kicked out of her life, pushed away simply because she'll want to spare Brooke's feelings. Or because she doesn't actually love him.

That's a scarier thought. And maybe not entirely true. At least based on what she told him in the library. He's firmly planning to cling to that moment, needing to believe it's true.

He's in love with her. He needs her in his life. She already considers him a great friend.

So maybe the risk would be too much. Maybe he'd lose it all if he told her how he felt. Maybe she'd smile at him and explain that she cares about him, but is still in love with Jake. Maybe it isn't always going to be there…except in his head.

There's a lot of maybes. And he really just wants it to be black or white, yes or no. She loves him, or…she loves him.

Release, catch, release. If only life could be as simple.

Lucas merely curses aloud when the basketball skims his fingers and thwacks his shoulder before dropping to the blankets and rolling off the bed. Maybe he should take that as a sign.

A/N: For those who don't know, a Foley bag is where the catheter empties. The nurses were commenting on her liquid input/output balance. Physio is physiotherapy/physical therapy...to help prevent muscles from deteriorating while she's in a coma. Yup, that about sums up my medical knowledge for the chapter, lol.

Lexie: There was a little more spoiling with NP!

Everyone, please let me know what you're thinking about the chapter or the story! :)