Title: Who You Were

Author: sera_rocks / Sera

Rating: M

Summary: After his father's death, James Lucas Scott is forced to go back to Tree Hill and the house he abandoned years ago to search for the will. What he finds goes beyond mere bequeathed possessions as he uncovers the secret past of the father he never knew, and the unforgettable love of two people who were destined to be together.

A/N: Hey everyone! Thank you for all the reviews for the last chapter. They were beyond awesome. I wasn't expecting such an amazing response to the first chapter. I hope y'all stick with it. Funny story while writing this chapter; I had a really difficult time writing the dialogue here (you'll see why). It took me like, two hours getting the dialogue and research right. All the famous people mentioned here are real. Dead, but real. Lol. I hope I pulled this off. It really wasn't easy.

Another huge thank you to Lillie for going over this and helping me get things straight. Also, to Stacy, I love long, obsessive reviews. The longer and more obsessive, the better. ;) I'll be updating Sway as soon as this crazy week of school ends. I just haven't been inspired lately. Happy holidays, everyone! Hope you have a good one. :)

Chapter 2:

Tree Hill, 1935

The bright sunlight streamed into the bedroom window, casting light first on the floor, which had discarded clothes all over the place, and then slowly to the bed, illuminating the figure of the sleeping seventeen-year-old in the bed. He stirred slightly as he curled deeper under the covers of his bed, trying to ignore the fact that it was already morning.

Suddenly, the door opened and almost instantly, loud jazz music filled the once-quiet bedroom and even in his half-asleep state, he recognized who was singing. It was his mom's favorite singer, Duke Ellington and unfortunately, he was in no mood to hear that voice. "Not him again," he groaned loudly as he pulled the covers over his head, trying to block out the noise.

"Nonsense, Nathan. There is nothing like starting the day with Duke Ellington." His mother, Deb chirped.

Beneath the covers, Nathan could not help but roll his eyes, already annoyed at his mother's fake enthusiasm. Why was she even bothering to pretend she was happy when she really wasn't? How stupid did she think he was, anyway? Nathan knew his mother was miserable with her life, how she hated being the trophy wife of a jerk who was anything but a father and husband to them, how she hated living in this small town, and how there was nothing better than to live in the better parts of New York where the Depression didn't seem to exist and there was nothing but a glamorous life for her there. He heard his parents endlessly fight and scream each other every night, and even worse, he heard his mother sob herself to sleep sometimes.

But Nathan wasn't one to care. He hardly ever cared about anything for that matter. It was all over the news; they were calling it the "Great Depression" now. He saw how many people were starving on the streets every day on his way to school. They relentlessly knocked on the window of their car, begging and Nathan would just coldly look away. A lot of small shops were closed now and there were a lot of his classmates that didn't come to school anymore. He heard the announcer on the radio declaring, "America, once the land of hope and optimism, is now the land of despair." Nathan actually snorted aloud at just the thought. As far as he was concerned, as long as he had food to eat and clothes to wear, he wasn't affected by any of this.

Nathan still felt the overeager presence of his mother still hovering above him and letting out a loud sigh, he threw off the covers and demanded, "Are you leaving or are you just going to stand there?"

"You know what, Nathan; sometimes I wish you'd care about something other than yourself." Deb told him, her voice sounding disappointed.

He wasn't fazed. He looked her straight into the eye as he spoke. "It's not like you're a saint yourself, mom – always whining about how you hate Tree Hill, like you don't give a damn about anything else. No one is stopping you from leaving, anyway. You can just go."

Deb was startled at him but just as quickly as it came, it disappeared. Her once-cheerful face returned to its usual, stoic self as she stood straighter and didn't give another glance at him. "You better come downstairs and have breakfast. You don't want to waste any food, especially during these times."

"I'm not eating breakfast," answered Nathan curtly as he got up out of bed. "It will be like I'll fit right in school."

She gave him a look of disdain and sighed, which he completely ignored. Nathan's back was turned to her when he heard her footsteps fade away and the bedroom door shut behind her. He grabbed the nearest towel and went into the bathroom to shower. For a brief moment, he remembered how there were dozens of people who didn't even have water to drink now, much less to take a bath with. He gave a small shrug and opened the faucet to full blast as he stepped into the shower.

Who gave a damn, anyway?

Nathan walked into the main hallway of Tree Hill High School, expecting the normal bumping and shoving that always occurred there at that time of day. Instead, he felt an unfamiliar cool breeze against his skin and looked around. Most of the people that remained in school were in the upper class of society, those who, like his family, spent money and lived their lives much like any other day. There were a handful of middle-class people left, though.

His gaze fell on a small group of them and he snorted. Back before the Depression hit, that group used to be so large. It was pathetic; groups like that always banded together, like they sought some sort of delusional comfort that they were just as good as the upper class people, no matter their status in society. Once a loser, always a loser, he often thought.

As always, his gaze went to one girl in particular. Her back was always turned to him and he never really had the time to really give her a look, so she intrigued him in some way. Unlike a lot of young girls around who wore their hair in short coiffures that, to Nathan looked a bit odd, she wore her brown hair long, letting it fall past her shoulders. She always wore her clothes the same way, a white blouse and long skirt that hung until her ankles, which didn't help much considering she already looked rather petite. It was quite obvious that she didn't care about what was in style or what other people thought, and even with her back always turned to him, she held herself with dignity and pride.

Nathan didn't get to observe her as much as he did now because since he was always late, he was also in a hurry to get to class all the time but now that there were less people around, he could observe her for as long as he wanted. He didn't like the fact that he was so fascinated by someone who wasn't in the same social circle as he was, but there was just something about her he couldn't place.

Before she could even turn around for him to take a look, he heard the familiar voice of his best friend and half-brother, Lucas behind him. "I didn't see you at breakfast today," he said.

"Yeah, I wasn't hungry." He replied, shrugging.

"And yet you still arrive late. I saw Rachel Gatina leaving one of the classrooms with her blouse half-buttoned." Peyton Sawyer, another one of his friends, commented with one of her eyebrows raised.

Nathan sighed, looking bored. "Rachel Gatina always leaves classrooms with her clothes hastily put on. I am not surprised."

"It's how she can afford all her clothes, anyway," giggled Brooke Davis, tossing her dark brown hair as she spoke. She then narrowed her eyes at him. "You really were not in the classroom with her, were you?"

Nathan looked disgusted as he shuddered in reply. "It happened once, it's not going to happen again. She followed me around like a lovesick puppy after. It's not something I want to experience again."

"Hey, what's everyone looking at?" Tim Smith asked brightly as he joined them. He followed their gaze to the table where the middle-class students were sitting. "Why is everyone watching them?"

"We weren't. Nathan was," said Brooke, pointing a thumb to him. She gave them a long look and then turned away, uninterested. "Pretty soon, they'll all be packing up to California."

"Why?" Nathan asked, startled. He wondered where the brown-haired girl was going to stay in once she went there.

"It's where they're all going," Peyton answered, turning around and joining Brooke. "It was all over the radio. I think they could get better jobs there as farmers."

"Farmers," snorted Tim. For some reason, he found what Peyton said very amusing, but when no one laughed with him, he fell silent.

Nathan finally found it in himself to tear his gaze away from the brown-haired girl's back and hurried to join his friends. He still could not help but wonder of what was going to become of her once she was gone. He wondered how her family was, and how they were coping. He couldn't explain why he was so worried for her all of a sudden, but he couldn't stop himself from doing it, either.

Lucas' voice interrupted his thoughts again as he remarked quietly, "Walter Winchell's radio broadcast was on again last night. You were mentioned again, right alongside Greta Garbo."

"What, is he saying I'm going out with her now?" Nathan asked sarcastically.

"You went out with Greta Garbo?" Tim repeated in awe, suddenly appearing from out of nowhere.

"I was being sarcastic, Tim," muttered Nathan, already annoyed. He pushed Tim away, who happily skipped away like nothing happened and joined Peyton and Brooke, who were already far ahead of them. He turned to Lucas. "You were saying?"

"Apparently, you left some club with two different women in arm last night. And that was not the first time it happened this week." Lucas continued in a low voice, looking around cautiously.

"Since when do you believe anything that Walter Winchell says?" Nathan asked in an uninterested voice.

"Since dad started listening to him. He's not very pleased with you, Nathan." Lucas warned.

"Dan is never pleased with me, Lucas. I don't even care," he ignored the taken aback look on his brother's face at the way he easily mentioned their father's first name. "There's no point in having money without using it wisely."

"Do you consider spending money on women and alcohol every night wise?"

For some reason, Nathan found himself turning around to look at the brown-haired girl, who was quite a few feet's distance away from him, but her back was still turned to him. Hastily, he faced Lucas again and shrugged his shoulders. "There's nothing better to do around here. Come on, we better get to class."

They spent the rest of the day avoiding the topic but much to Nathan's surprise, he found himself constantly looking for the brown-haired girl in the hallways. He never saw her again for the rest of the day.

Tree Hill, present time

James stared into the contents of the chest, still in awe. He couldn't believe it. He stared at the photograph in his hands, completely dumbfounded. It was a picture of his father and his friends. He instantly recognized his Uncle Lucas, because he didn't look any different as James remembered. There were three other people he didn't recognize though; a tall, slender girl who wasn't smiling at all, another girl, shorter this time and curvier with a dimpled smile and lastly, a goofy-looking boy with the stupidest, widest grin James ever saw.

His gaze fell last on his father and with a slight sting, he saw just what people have been telling him all the time; he looked exactly like his father. Especially the eyes – they had the same expressive eyes peering beneath long, thick lashes. If the picture were colored, it would have been just as a deep blue as his. Compared to many of his father's other pictures that James had already seen, Nathan Scott looked different here. He was certainly a lot younger but there was something else. He wasn't smiling, but there was something in his eyes that James couldn't place, like he was actually content … happy somehow. He looked so … normal, like an actual, normal teenager.

James ran his finger over the photograph. Unlike the portrait of his mother downstairs, this one was quite worn, obviously been passed around and fondly kept in wallets and pockets. He turned the photograph around. There, written in his father's familiar scrawl were the words; Nathan, Luke, Tim, Brooke and Peyton. 1935.

James frowned as he set the photograph on the floor. Why hadn't his father ever mentioned them? If they were such good friends as they looked, he should have at least heard one of their names in passing, but he couldn't remember a time that he ever heard it. What was even stranger was that he had never seen them before. They weren't even in the funeral. Have they perhaps fallen apart over the years? Was that the reason why his father turned out to be so stoic and unfeeling?

James eagerly started to rummage through the chest again. He had a very strong feeling that the answer was in here somewhere and that this day was far from over.