A/N: I save chapters on my phone before I post them, and that means that I can't edit them, which would be why I have some typos and why I never seem to have an immediate response to the opinions voiced in your reviews anymore. Rest assured that I do know your ideas and what you're thinking and that I do take them into account...I just won't be able to respond right away.
Oh, one last thing…I wrote another L/P oneshot, because you are such awesome readers that you really do deserve some honest-to-god interaction…so feel free to check that out. Anyway, now that I've promoted my own work… ;)
Glissando: derived from the French word "glisser" meaning "to slide", this is a musical direction for an easy transition from one note to the next; it provides a break for the performer
"Nathan…Nathan. Babe, wake up."
Haley's frantic voice filtered into Nathan's sleep-filled, comfortable world, and he groaned. "What?" he muttered without opening his eyes.
"We need to talk. Can you please wake up?"
He sighed, but the tone of her voice convinced him to force his eyelids up. She was perched on her side of the bed still in the same clothes she'd worn to dinner last night, and her eyes gleamed with tears. He reached out automatically in concern, gently running his hand from her elbow to her hand, where he gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze. He pushed himself up into a sitting position. "Hales…what is it?"
She started lots of sentences. "I need…we should…Lucas is such a…look, I have to tell you…Peyton…Jenny's…everything's so…" She sighed, looking like she was about to burst into tears.
"It's okay," Nathan soothed.
"Let's…let's go downstairs and…sit. I'll make some tea. There's a lot we need to talk about."
Nathan kept his hold on her hand, keeping her from moving away from him. "Hales…should I be worried?" he asked, fully concerned.
Her laughter was shaky and rough, free from any sort of mirth. "I know I am."
Nathan watched his wife worriedly. She was stirring milk into her tea, her spoon gently scraping against the bottom of her mug, making a sound that Nathan had always loved for some reason. It was probably because Haley made him tea when she was taking care of people – the sound of a spoon scratching lightly at the bottom of a ceramic cup always reminded Nathan of comfort.
But it was going on too long in the pale-blue morning light that was flooding their kitchen. Haley was staring down into her cup of tea, tears swimming in her eyes. The only sounds in their home were the scraping of the spoon against the mug in its steady pattern, and Haley's periodic sniffles.
"Baby?" Nathan asked her quietly. "Haley, can you talk to me? Please?"
She dropped her spoon into her cup, letting in hit the edge with a clang that sounded particularly loud considering the silence around them, and buried her face in her hands.
"Hales," he said sadly, his worry mounting.
She straightened up in her chair, swallowing hard and staring hard at something behind Nathan before her saddened eyes drifted over to meet his. "Jake's dead," she whispered.
Nathan pulled back in his chair, away from her words. He was shocked. "But…no. Peyton was…she made it sound like…"
"I know."
"She…fuck, I should have known," he muttered. "It's the only real thing that makes sense, doesn't it? Jake loves…he loved Jenny so much that he went to jail for her, he hid for her, he chased her across the country…he gave up everything for her. He never would have left her. And he never would have left Peyton."
Tears slid down Haley's cheeks. "People always leave, right? I wish someone on this stupid planet would prove that idiotic theory of hers wrong."
"I know," Nathan agreed softly. He moved from the chair across from hers to the chair right next to hers, pulling her into a one-armed hug. He hated to see Haley cry. He hated to see anyone cry, but his wife's tears tore at his heart the most.
"It doesn't feel right, you know? I didn't ask her for details, but it had to be about eight years ago, before she moved to L.A. And in my mind I just keep seeing her alone and afraid and having to take care of Jenny…we should have been there for her, Nathan. We should have been there."
"It's not our fault, Haley. We didn't know."
"I feel like I should have known. Peyton was as good as my sister, and Jake wasn't just her husband; he was our friend, too."
"Wait…" Nathan said slowly, filling in the gaps in his mind. "So they were married? Peyton and Jake?"
"Yeah, they…they got married the same day we did."
Nathan scowled. Peyton and Jake hadn't even been dating when they got married, that was… "Oh," he said, suddenly feeling stupid. "Second wedding, I gotcha. We've got to stop getting married all the time, huh?" His comment was a little random, and a little silly, but he didn't do well under the pressure of emotional situations. Jokes were a good fallback.
Haley shook her head, a small smile gracing her lips. "I could marry you one hundred times, and then I'd do it a thousand more."
He smiled back. "Yeah…"
"Oh, Nathan…my head is spinning. So much makes sense now, so many things I never wanted to make sense, not this way."
Nathan pulled her closer to him, kissing her forehead. "Tell me everything, okay? Maybe I can help you."
"I don't…know where to begin."
"You were in a panic about Jenny when you left last night. Why don't you start there?"
Haley nodded and sighed. "She called me from Peyton's place. Peyton was a mess. Her hand was bleeding and she was curled up in a ball on the floor…her shirt wasn't buttoned up right."
Nathan arched his eyebrows. "Excuse me?"
"Yeah," Haley breathed.
"Another rendezvous with Chris Keller?" he asked awkwardly. Peyton could do so, so much better than that, even if she was a bit of a mess. Besides, that was supposed to be over.
"I wish."
Nathan balked. "Whoa. Okay. What? I thought you and Peyton were friends."
Haley squinted at him. "You're not making sense."
"No friend would wish Chris Keller on another friend."
She swatted at his chest. "Shut up. It wasn't Chris."
"So then who was it? A bartender?"
"Where did that come from?"
"Well, she's been keeping a pretty low profile…the only place she's really been to is Tric. Besides, it's convenient: down some drinks downstairs, stumble upstairs to hook up…"
"You are such an idiot sometimes, you know that?" Haley asked disbelievingly.
"Says the girl who's married me twice."
"Point taken," she sighed. "I guess I should just come out and say this."
Nathan's heart sank, and the room was suddenly flooded with a sombre atmosphere that forced any levity out. It definitely hadn't been a bartender.
"It was Lucas," she whispered, studying his eyes intently to gauge his reaction.
His jaw dropped. There was underlying sexual tension between Lucas and Peyton; Nathan wasn't stupid, he knew that. Lucas hadn't been able to deny their unmistakable attraction, and he knew that Peyton was probably still pining for him in some very subdued way, but he hadn't thought… "Luke and Peyton had sex?" he spluttered. It was at moments like this that he wanted to call his brother a bastard, for totally different reasons than the ones he'd had back in high school.
"No…she said they almost had sex."
"My brother is a…" Nathan held back the string of profanities he wanted to release. "God! Who does he think he is, fucking with her heart like that? Is Peyton okay?"
"Not really. She's…" Haley sighed again. "There's more."
"What more could their possibly?" Nathan scoffed angrily.
"Too much more," Haley muttered. "More than there should be. Listen, do you remember when Lucas found out –"
"Morning." The soft, delicate voice carried through the quiet of the house, jarring Nathan and Haley out of their conversation.
"Hey, sweetheart," Haley cooed as Nathan took in Jenny's appearance. She looked like hell, with red rims around her tired blue eyes. It struck Nathan in that moment that Jenny had lost a parent, that she'd lost the man who had loved her so much, and that Peyton was all she had left.
"Hi," Jenny replied hoarsely, taking a few tentative steps toward them.
Haley stood up, walked over, and wrapped her arms around the teenager, rubbing soothing circles on her back. "It's gonna be okay, honey. I'm so sorry."
Nathan watched them embrace, wondering if Jenny knew just how many things Haley was sorry for. Every one of the things they'd missed. Yes, Peyton had left. Yes, she'd cut them out. But his wife was right: they were the closest of friends, and they should have been there.
"Thank you," Jenny murmured in response.
Haley stroked her hair, making a sympathetic face. "Come sit down, okay? What can I get for you? Tea? I'll even let you have coffee today," she offered, mustering up a smile.
"No, thank you," Jenny replied stiffly. "I'm not really all that hungry."
"Sure, sweetie, okay. Jenny…can you help me out? Can you let me know what I can do for you?"
Jenny smiled sadly, looking like she was about to burst into tears. "I really don't know."
"Come sit down," Nathan told her gently, repeating his wife's request.
"I was actually thinking…maybe I'd go out for a little bit."
"You want to see your mom?" Haley asked instantly, and Nathan picked up on her tone. Clearly Jenny and Peyton had had another showdown of sorts in the aftermath of the Lucas debacle, undoubtedly about the ever-present fact that Peyton had concealed a lot from her daughter.
Jenny shook her head forcefully, her hair hitting her in the face. "Not yet. I can't."
"Okay," Haley agreed comfortingly.
"I just wanted to go for a run. I need to move. Is that okay? I'll be back soon."
Haley hesitated, but Nathan could see that Jenny was itching to get out of there, to run away and clear her head. "Honey, I don't know if you should…"
"Let her go, Hales," Nathan told her quietly. He turned to Jenny. "You promise you'll be back soon?"
"Promise," Jenny told him seriously, her voice flooding with relief.
Nathan nodded toward the door. "Off you go. Be careful."
"I will," she swore, and practically bolted off.
"Nathan," Haley cried, "are you sure, she's not exactly…"
"She's going to be fine, Hales. She's like Peyton, you know that. It's all about space and time. Hey," he said softly, holding out a hand to her. She walked over to him, taking it as she sat back down. "Now what were you about to tell me?"
Realization overpowered the worry in Haley's eyes. "Something that could hurt that little girl," she sighed. "Something that could hurt a lot of people."
"Don't hold stuff back from me. Okay? If it hurts, then I want to hurt with you."
She seemed to melt right before his eyes, cupping the back of his neck as she pulled him into a kiss. "That right there," she breathed against his lips. "That is why I married you twice."
"Lucas," Brooke sighed contentedly as she rolled over in bed, reaching out for her husband. Her hands encountered cool sheets instead.
She frowned instantly, her lips, still a little glossy from last night, slipping into a pout. The sticky pink substance on her coating her lips made her uneasy. That stuff was supposed to get kissed off last night.
She pulled her heaviest bathrobe over on top of her skimpy nightgown before she walked into the bathroom and stared at herself in the mirror. Every morning that she'd woken up for the past decade, positive phrases entered her mind when she gazed at her reflection. About what a perfect night she'd just had with her husband, about her most recent successful business deal, about how precious her daughter was, about how perfect her shopping trip with Haley had been. When she saw herself in the mirror she saw a mother, a wife, a friend, a businesswoman. This morning, she braced her hands on the counter as she studied her doppelganger. Was hers the face of a woman whose husband was pathetically still in love with someone else?
Giggling found her ears, as though it had filtered up the stairs and through the hallways with the specific purpose of encountering her. A small smile lit up the face of the girl in the mirror, and she followed the sound out of the room, through the corridor, and down the stairs.
The instant she entered the kitchen she thought back to standing in front of the mirror and hoped to god that she'd found her answer: No. Lucas was wearing an apron and a dorky chef's hat that she'd never seen before, expertly flipping pancakes. Miranda was perched on the counter, with just enough distant between her little body and the stove to put a parent's mind at ease, giggling incessantly at her father's antics. Lucas was talking to her in an accent that was a mixture of French and German, explaining "ze technique of za flip".
"Mommy! Daddy's being silly," Miranda reported the way only a little kid can.
"I see that," Brooke responded simply, reaching over to pinch her daughter's cheek fondly, making Miranda giggle and squirm. "You feeling better?" she asked her husband, pressing the back of her hand to his forehead. Its temperature was unremarkable, neither hot nor cold, though he seemed worn down.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Probably just strain on my eyes, staring at my laptop for so long," he shrugged.
"You shouldn't make yourself sick," Mira lectured him.
Lucas chuckled. "Thank you, baby girl, I know." With an effortlessness that surprised Brooke, he flipped two pancakes onto two separate plates. Quickly, he buttered them all, drizzled syrup over them, a placed a strawberry on top. He held a plate out to each of them. "Voila. For my girls."
Miranda clapped before she accepted the plate, her brown eyes bright. She was about to dig in, but Brooke stopped her. "Hold your horses, little girl. Go sit at the table. Princesses never eat sitting on top of counters." She turned to Lucas, who was rinsing the frying pan. "Where's your breakfast?" she asked.
"I already ate; I've been up for a while. I was actually going to go for a run. Build my energy back up."
"But Luke, if you're sick, that's probably not a good id –"
Before she'd even finished her sentence, he'd shed his chef outfit, kissed her forehead, waved to Miranda, and was halfway out the door.
"Why's Daddy running away?" Miranda asked innocently, puzzled.
Brooke whirled around to face her daughter again. "She's not," she insisted, though she was scared that that was exactly what he was doing.
"Okay…"
Haley sat on the hard-backed kitchen chair, anxiously watching her husband pace around in a fit of rage. "Nathan," she tried, for what felt like the infinite time, but she wasn't getting through to him. He just needed to vent.
"So Lucas goes to New York. Finds out his book is being published. Instead of coming home to celebrate with us, and his girlfriend, he takes off to Los Angeles, ambushes Peyton with some crazy declaration of his love despite the fact that she's still mourning the death of her husband. Then he kisses her like the total asshole he is and asks her to run away with him, to be with him. She does the smart thing, the reasonable thing and walks away even though deep down she wants to go, and eight years later, he shows up on her doorstep to ambush her again and they…they do that Lucas – Peyton thing where they stop thinking and start making out. Peyton, again, has the good sense to push my idiot brother away. She's a mess, Jenny finds her, and now Jenny's a mess, too. Did I leave anything out?"
"Um…the day after Lucas asked Peyton to take him back he proposed to Brooke," Haley added hesitantly, not wanting to fuel his rage.
"Idiot! Ass! Fucking –"
"Nathan," she berated him. "In all fairness – logical fairness – I have to point out that Lucas didn't know that Jake had died, just like none of us did."
"That doesn't make any of it right," he fumed.
"No, of course not. But it does make it a tiny bit less wrong."
Nathan squinted at her suspiciously. "Are you defending him?"
"I…I'm in shock, just like you are, but there's a part of me, a part of me buried deep down…that isn't surprised."
To her surprise and relief, Nathan seemed to deflate as he collapsed back down into his chair. "Yeah. I guess that in some ways I'm not, either."
"Why is that?" Haley asked him desperately, as though he had all the answers to the unanswerable questions.
"Because it's Lucas and Peyton," he sighed. "And I guess we were idiots to think that that could change. I mean…Peyton still doesn't lock her goddamn door. How could we have believed that she wouldn't still be…" He shook his head, shrugging, "one half of Peyton and Lucas."
Jenny bounced the ball against the asphalt before setting her eyes on the basket and jumping up, flinging it into the air. The ball slipped in smoothly, free of barriers and complications.
"If only it were that easy," a male voice said, stealing the thought right from her mind.
She whirled around, alarmed, and found herself staring at Lucas Scott. "Lucas Scott," she said aloud, making a weak attempt to smile. "My mom's Epic Ex. What brings you here so early in the morning?"
He gave her a weak smile in return. "God, you've got…"
"Spunk? Sass?" she supplied, the typical terms she was used to adults bestowing upon her.
"That and more," he laughed lightly, sending his own basket through the hoop. Jenny snatched his rebound out of the air. "Your mom told you about me?" he asked guardedly.
"Nope. You want to give me some details?"
He chuckled. "I think that's up to your mother, Jenny; I'm sorry."
"Yeah," she sighed. "I know." Too bad she'd just screamed at her mother. She had a feeling she wouldn't be getting any details any time soon.
"You're good," Lucas told her simply.
"You've seen me play for about two seconds. This could be a fluke."
"I know good when I see good."
Jenny took her opportunities as they came. She rested the basketball against her hip and looked Lucas squarely in the eye. "And I know someone who's into my mom when I see someone who's into my mom."
His eyebrows shot up and he swallowed hard, confirming her suspicions. "Jenny, no; I haven't seen your mom in years, and I'm married and – "
"Married. Right. I'd believe that one if I was five. I know I'm still a kid to you because you're, like, twice my age…but I'm not stupid."
He held up his hands in surrender. "I never meant to imply that you were. You've got to give me a little credit though, right? The last time I saw you, you were still a baby – I accredited you with four more years of knowledge."
She bit back the smile that tugged at her lips, bouncing the basketball over to him.
Lucas caught it, giving her a contemplative look. "How's your head, Jenny Jagielski?" he asked her kindly, as if he was truly interested in her wellbeing. And she believed that he was.
For that reason and that reason alone, she gave him the truth. Sighing and gesturing for him to shoot, she said, "I really didn't want to like you."
When there was a knock on the door, Brooke's heart soared. She hoped that it was Lucas, having forgotten his key.
"Be right back, baby," she told Miranda, leaving her daughter alone at the table, where she'd been colouring as Brooke sorted through some paperwork.
She was shocked to find Peyton on the other side of the door, looking like she'd been through hell and back since the ex-best friends had last spoken. In sweats and dark purple t-shirt, Peyton looked incredibly vulnerable. She tugged at the hem of her shirt as though she felt exposed, her eyes were shifty and darting, and there was a big bandage wrapped around one of her hands. Still, at the sight of Brooke, she seemed to fall into a more comfortable state. "Hey, B," she said quietly.
"Peyton," she blurted, and the next words left her lips before she could stop them. "You looking for Luke?"
Peyton's eyes glazed over again momentarily before she shook it off with the back-and-forth movements of her head, also answering Brooke's question. "No. Why would I be?"
Brooke shrugged, uncertain why that had been the first thought to pop into her mind. She looked at her old friend, unsure of what to make of how jumpy and restless Peyton appeared. She assessed Peyton's face, afraid of that gleam in her eyes and the colour in her cheeks that she can remember seeing before, that she can remember deeming Peyton's Lucas-stealing face. She shook off that thought with a shake of her own brown locks, just as Peyton had. "Why are you here?" she demanded.
"I didn't really sleep last night," Peyton confessed, still fidgeting, ringing her hands. "And I was just thinking…I don't know, about life and love and…everything. About how much you used to mean to be. About how much you still do, and about all the other things that you trump for me. I don't want us to give up like this. I know I screwed up, Brooke, but I want us to work through it. You said we could be better, and I really do believe you."
Brooke melted a little. Heartfelt confessions from her old best friend were something she didn't have much power to deny. "Oh, Peyton…" she said sadly. "I want to be better, too, it's just…"
"It's Luke, right? Brooke, I don't want to half to be saying this, but if you need me to…"
She frowned at the blonde's words, unsure of what she meant. "Okay. Say it," she finally replied after a long pause.
Peyton drew in a deep breath. "I am not after Luke," she stated simply. "I came here today for you because you are what matter to me." She shrugged. "Hoes over Bro's, B. Davis. I know I fucked it up before and I regret it. I regret it all, and I know we can't erase it, but I'm here, and I'm asking you for another chance."
"I gave you another chance once," Brooke said matter-of-factly. "You fucked that one up, too."
Peyton nodded, acknowledging this. "Third time's the charm?" she suggested weakly.
Brooke sighed, caving. "You're lucky I love you so much, you bitch," she said affectionately, opening her arms for a hug. She was happy when she felt the force with which Peyton returned the embrace. "So what do you think?" she asked into Peyton's hair. "Do we need to have another Hoes over Bro's reunion?"
"Sounds perfect," Peyton whispered.
Brooke released her, giving her one last squeeze. "Alright. We'll start simple and slow…how about movie night at that hip little apartment of yours? I'll make Lucas watch our girl."
"Your girl," Peyton repeated. "I saw her, the other day. She's gorgeous. Looks just like you did."
"She does, doesn't she?" Brooke grinned. "So what do you say, P. Sawyer? You, me, and…Leonardo DiCaprio?" she asked, quirking her eyebrows.
"Ryan Gosling," Peyton countered.
Brooke licked her lips. "Even better," she said, and they dissolved into giggles.
"Hey."
She glanced up and saw Lucas walking toward them over Peyton's shoulder, Jenny at his side. "Hey, you," she replied before directing her smile at Jenny and greeting her with, "Hey, honey."
"Hi," Jenny replied with a small, awkward wave.
"I was just walking Jen back to Nathan and Haley's…but look who we found," Lucas commented, gesturing to Peyton.
She looked at Brooke's husband for only the briefest of seconds before tearing her eyes away. "Hello, Luke," she said, already directing her attention to her daughter. "Hey there," she said to Jenny.
"I didn't mean it," the fourteen-year-old hurried to say, blushing.
"I know," Peyton smiled. "But this is the last time, you crazy girl," she added, opening an arm to her daughter. "I thought we agreed not to get into anymore drama."
"We did. Yeah. I…"
"I know," Peyton soothed, preventing Lucas or Brooke from hearing any details of whatever had gone down between the Sawyer-Jagielski girls.
"Everything okay?" Lucas asked in confusion, losing his voice halfway through the question and having to clear his throat. Brooke gave him a suspicious look - she was concerned if it was sickness affecting his voice, and she would be concerned if it was something emotional. It was a lose-lose situation from her perspective.
"Fine," Peyton snapped out. "Thanks for walking Jenny back. I'll see you later, B," she added, shooting Brooke an earnest smile before rushing off, her arm still wrapped around Jenny.
"What were you two talking about?" Lucas asked, stepping into the house. He definitely had been exercising – he was a sweaty mess. The lack of lying did something to reassure her.
"Girl stuff," Brooke replied, brushing it aside. "Nice eye sex," she added sarcastically, stalking ahead of him into the house.
"Brooke, please, not this again. She barely looked at me."
"I know, I'm sorry, I…" She blew out her breath. She herself had been surprised by the words that flew from her mouth. "Everything's fine. I didn't mean anything by that."
The tension between Lucas and Peyton was palpable, but Brooke could almost understand that. Time and distance did that to people. It wasn't as though she and Peyton had suddenly slipped back into their old camaraderie; it was still hard, still strained, and that was diminished only by the moment in which they managed to say the right things. The intensity of their eye contact didn't even irk Brooke that much – both Lucas and Peyton had really deep eyes that they somehow managed to speak through, so it wasn't entirely out of the ordinary.
No, this time, it wasn't her husband's actions that were bothering her. Rather, it was the way Peyton's voice had shaken as she forced the words out: I am not after Luke.
A/N: Brooke may not like L/P eye sex, but I know the rest of you do. Probably almost as much as I love reviews. ;)
