Brooke Davis was relatively certain that she was going to die. She had been kneeling on the floor of Lucas Scott's bathroom for over two hours now, heaving all of the contents of her stomach into the toilet. Her knees hurt, and so did her arm from holding back her own hair. She had demanded that her friends go to school that day; they had already all missed a week or more, either for her or Nathan. Nathan had also insisted the same, but she was now regretting this decision. She could really use Haley right about now.

Brooke had yet to talk to Lucas since the big blowout in Naley's apartment, and she knew that she probably shouldn't have been so stand off-ish when Haley had taken her to Lucas's house last night. She had just been so tired, and felt so utterly sick, that the thought of having a conversation was repulsive.

She glanced through watery eyes at the clock through the door that lead to Lucas's room. It was a little past noon. Make that three hours, she thought to herself.

The door to Lucas's room that came from the outside opened, and a concerned voice called out. "Brooke?"

She attempted to answer, but only managed to puke some more. "Oh, Brooke," Lucas sighed, kneeling on the floor behind her, taking over holding her hair back. "Cheery..."

She groaned, hating that he was seeing her this way. "Sorry," she mumbled, attempting to wipe her face off with a towel on the floor.

"It's okay," he said softly. "Are you okay?"

"I hate this, Luke," she said, beginning to choke on her tears. "This is awful. And I've only done it once."

"Brooke, I'm so sorry," he said, his voice practically oozing sincerity. "That you have to go through this, and for what I did the other night. You know I didn't mean it."

"I know," she yawned tiredly. "We can talk later, though. I need to take a shower."

Lucas chuckled, helping her to her feet. "Okay, pretty girl. You sure you're okay to shower?"

"I'll be fine," she said confidently. "Just wait in the living room, I'll call you when I'm ready to talk."

"Okay, pretty girl."

"Hey Luke? Aren't you supposed to be at school?"

"I thought you might need me," Lucas said with a shrug. "Guess I was right."

"Guess you were," Brooke said with a small smile, closing the bathroom door and shakily making her way to the shower. She turned on the water and slowly removed her clothes, her body feeling achy. "Ugh, God."

She stepped under the hot spray, leaning against the wall tiredly. As hard as standing was, the relief that the warm water brought to her was worth it. That is, until the hot steam began to make her stomach churn again. She managed to only throw up down the drain before slowly sinking down the wall, beginning to cry. How could this be her life? She was only seventeen. And here she was. Her best friend had betrayed her. The girl she thought was going to become a close ally had skipped town after a huge accident. Her ex-boyfriend kept switching between Jekyll and Hyde. Her best friend in the world was pregnant, and she might not live to see the baby be born.

Continuing to cry, she felt her body become weaker and weaker, spots of odd color beginning to flood her vision. She attempted to get up, only to slip and fall. She groaned, holding her hip in pain.

"God damn it," she mumbled, pushing her sopping hair out of her face. Her breathing was becoming more labored, and it almost felt as though she was no longer in her body. The spots in her vision were beginning to entirely consume it; she could hardly see, and her head was beginning to throb, as if she was being beaten. In fact, her whole body was beginning to feel that way.

"LUCAS!" she screamed from where she lay on the floor. "LUKE!"

She could hear his hurried footsteps and his desperate rattling at the door. "Hang on, Brooke, you locked the door. Don't be scared, okay?" she could hear him call through the door.

With one solid, loud crash, and mumbled curse, the door was broken off the hinges, falling into the bathroom. He didn't bother trying to move it, just stepping over it. Brooke continued to lay on the floor of the shower, her sobs beginning to completely wear her body to its breaking point.

"Luke.."

He grabbed a towel off the rack, slamming the water valve off. He lifted Brooke off the floor worriedly, wrapping her in the fluffy towel and carrying her into his bedroom. He was now soaking wet from where her body was making contact with his chest, but he didn't care.

"It'll be okay, Brooke. Just breathe, baby. Stay with me, okay?"

He gently placed her on the bed, running around the room looking for clothes. He knew that her modesty might not seem important now, but give it five minutes, and she'd be yelling at him for letting her be naked if he needed to call an ambulance.

"I'm gonna get you to a hospital, okay?"

"No," she groaned. "No, no hospitals."

"Brooke," he began to argue, before shaking his head. He found a pair of her underwear in the drawer, and her favorite pair of black and red flannel pajama bottoms. He found a tank top, and at the very bottom of the drawer, his gray hoodie. He smiled as he carried them over to the bed. "Just trust me, babe."

He slowly removed the towel, beginning to dry her off. She began to shiver, both from the cold and from his touch. He slid her clothes on as slowly as possible, to keep from jostling her. Once she was comfortable, he moved her up on the bed, putting her under the covers and kissing her head tenderly.

"I'll go get you some water and some of the medications your doctor gave you."

Brooke nodded weakly, her eyes still closed. "Hurry."

He dashed to the kitchen, flipping open his cell on the way. "Mom? Hey. I came home like you said, and Brooke is not doing well. She doesn't want to go to the hospital but I don't know what's normal and what isn't after chemo."

He waited a moment for his mother's response, getting Brooke's glass of water and grabbing the medications that were supposed to ease her pain, help her sleep, and ease her stomach.

"If she's naseous and dizzy, that's normal. Achy pains, and exhaustion, that's normal. If she's coughing up blood or something like that, than no, that isn't normal. Use your best judgement, my boy."

"Okay. Thanks Mom."

"Call me if you need anything," Karen said, feeling helpless.

"I will. Bye Ma."

He shut his phone as he re-entered his bedroom. He gently lifted Brooke's head, easing her into taking the three pills with the water. He felt her skin, surprised to feel it be scathingly hot.

"Jesus, Brooke, you're burning up," he said worriedly. "Can I please take you to the hospital?"

"No, Lucas," she begged. "Please. If it doesn't get better soon, you can, but not now."

"Okay," he said reluctantly.

She reached out to him, pulling him toward the bed. "Please come lay with me. I don't want to be alone."

"Okay, pretty girl," he said, crawling into bed beside her. She latched onto him immediately, eyes still closed, breathing deeply and slowly. He held her tightly to his chest, kissing her forehead and whispering words of comfort.

"Sing to me," she murmured into his neck, already half asleep.

"Brooke, you know I can't sing," Lucas half laughed.

"Sing me that song. That Beatles song you said was like...was like me."

Lucas took a deep breath and softly sang in her ear, "Blackbird flying in the dead of night, take these broken wings and learn to fly, all your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arise. Blackbird, fly..."

Halfway through the song, he looked down to find that Brooke was finally asleep, and seemingly much more comfortable than she had been. He held her even tighter for a moment before beginning to rise to call her doctor.

"No, boyfriend, come back," Brooke groaned, reaching for him in her sleep. He smiled, crawling back in beside her. She sighed contentedly, nuzzling her wet hair into his neck. He shivered, but smiled anyway despite his discomfort.

The feeling of elation that overcame him when she said that one simple word was more than Lucas could describe. Maybe all hope was not lost to him, after all. He was determined to just be there for her, because he knew that she needed him. But, should she bring up their relationship, Lucas would certainly not be saying no.

A soft knock at the door caused Lucas to stir a few hours later, after he had fallen asleep with Brooke. "Come in!" he loudly whispered at the door.

Peyton Sawyer tentatively entered, looking ashamed and sheepish. "Hey."

"Hey," Lucas replied awkwardly from the bed.

"I brought this for Brooke," Peyton said softly, placing a silver bracelet on the desk. "It was Ellie's cancer bracelet. I just...I thought she might be able to get some strength from it."

"Thanks," Lucas said.

"And, I also brought her this," she said, placing a white envelope on the desk. "It's a letter. Just...give it to her when you think she's feeling up to it."

"I will. Thanks, Peyton."

"No problem."

She paused for a moment.

"How is she?"

"Awful," Lucas answered truthfully. Peyton nodded, biting her lip, before turning and leaving Lucas's room before he could see her cry over her former friend.

Brooke began to stir as the door closed.

"Hm?"

"Sh, go back to sleep," Lucas whispered. She closed her eyes once again, nodding.

"Okay."

Lucas watched her drift back into dreamland and couldn't help but smile once again at her beauty. Despite her sickness, despite how broken she might be, she truly looked gorgeous. Perhaps it was her strength, or her kindness, or her selflessness, but Lucas couldn't help but love her more than he thought possible in that moment.