WARNING: the following may contain subject matter that you might not feel comfortable around, i.e. physical abuse (I got carried away a little...)

It was three full days later that Lucas was finally able to sit up again without feeling completely exhausted and ready to sleep by the time he had managed to rest his back against the headboard. He should probably thank his lucky stars for it or something, but he didn't feel up to thanking anything or anyone as it were, because really? Everything was a complete mess. His damn leg hurt like hell every time the bossy nurse insisted that he'd already had enough morphine shot up into his body to last him the rest of the day—which happened every day and basically caused each and every one of them to stretch on for even longer than they would have done anyway. Then she went on to change the dressings covering his wound with way too little care. Lucas had to wonder about the fact that seemingly no patient had complained about her, yet. But in spite of himself neither did he.

Further, now that the weekend was over school had started again and he was not only missing classes and practice but also Brooke had no longer as much time for visiting him and neither had his friends. This, in turn, meant that the already unbearably long and pain-filled days had begun to be incredibly boring on top of everything. Which was just fantastic.

Also, his mom was a complete mess because she worried so much about him. And although she'd never said a word about it the costs of his hospital stay were surely already starting to explode as well, which had to be an even worse concern of hers. Not even Keith's constant presence and help seemed to make things any easier for her. Lucas was worried that if she went on like that—visiting him twice a day before and after work, then sitting down to do paperwork for both her business and the insurance company, and whoever the hell else was bothering her with insisting she pay this or that overdue invoice—she might break down from all the stress soon.

He just really needed to get out of this place ASAP. It would be better for everyone, and besides—

"Heyyyy…" Brooke suddenly interrupted his musings, her voice sounding light and happy. "How's my favorite patient doing today?"

He couldn't help but smile at her and wondered how he had missed her knock on his door, although, come to think of it, he wasn't all too sure she had actually knocked first before opening the door…

"Brooke," he said and with his gaze followed her until she came to stand at the side of his bed. He adjusted his sitting position until he sat still more upright and replied, "I'm good."

She ran a hand through his hair and frowned a little. "Really? You look a bit pale, Lucas. You sure you're feeling alright? We could call—"

"I'm okay, Brooke." He smiled at her concern, smiled because only now that she was actually here did he feel the full extent of how much he'd really missed her before.

"Well, I'll believe you then. For now.—So, how was your day, Lucas Scott?" queried Brooke and without asking him for permission first settled down right next to him on his bed. With one arm leaning against the raised headboard she nestled up against him, started playing with strands of his hair, and placed her other hand on his chest. But, oh, he didn't mind…

"Where to start…" he began as he turned his head a little to face her properly, "I woke up, got one delicious breakfast delivered right up to my bed, stared at the walls for a while, was helped into the shower by a very 'cute' and," he raised his eyebrows suggestively, "—robust—male nurse. I stared at the walls some more, had my favorite nurse, Mrs. Kowalsky, change the dressings in that tender way of hers, and stared at the walls some more. So all in all I'd say: it was terrific. How about your day, Brooke Davies?"

She had smiled throughout his little "report," had nudged him playfully at the appropriate places, but oddly her brightness had fallen away pretty quickly once he'd asked her back.

"Brooke?"

The hand playing with his hair suddenly stopped and she righted herself a little. "Oh, you know, the usual. Classes were boring, Mr. Howard had us write an unannounced test, some cheerleading stuff. Nothing to tell, really…"

Okay, so that did not sound like Brooke at all. No new gossip? Nothing about Peyton, Bevin, or any of the other cheerleaders? No new couples, breakups, crises that she'd tell him about to distract him from the monotonous tedium of hospital life? No drama in Tree Hill High? At all? Lucas had been sure that something was up the instant she had stopped smiling. Her unusual quietness only further confirmed the truth of this to him. Taking both her hands in his he stared at her intently as if he might be able to read some of her thoughts that way, then gently called her name again.

"Brooke. What's the matter?"

Her smile reappeared, but he could see through its fakeness. "Nothing?" she suggested and tried to free her hands again, but to no avail.

"Brooke…"

"I just miss you, Lucas. Can't a girl miss her boyfriend? School's simply boring with you still in the hospital—"

"Okay. As much as I'd like to believe this were the only reason for you being upset I don't. I know you, Brooke. And the Brooke I know might have been kind enough to pretend to have forgotten that her idiot of a boyfriend does not deserve her to treat him so nicely, does not deserve it at all. But she would definitely never think that school was boring just because said idiot happened to have landed himself in the hospital and was not around during the day."

She sighed heavily and frowned. "Why did I have to choose the one perceptive guy in this whole universe as my boyfriend, huh?" she queried and shot him an accusing glance before drooping her head in defeat.

"Hey," made Lucas and let go of her hands, just to gently cup her chin and make her look at him again.

Brooke nearly choked on the tenderness she could see displayed on his features; and God, she so wished he hadn't seen right through her. There was no way she would tell him about how that new guy—Greg—had tried hitting on her. She'd put him in his place instantly anyway and had had Peyton swear not to tell Luke about it as long as he was still in the hospital. He had enough to chew on already, what with his leg being so terribly injured.

But then there was that other issue… And she couldn't not tell him about it, not now that he had actually sensed that something was not alright. She was indeed upset.

"Oh, Lucas, I…" Brooke flinched and bit her lip. She raised her arms again, buried her fingers in his hair, and leaned her forehead against his, although she knew she was probably only making it harder for him this way. Sighing again, she continued, "It's, you know.—After your car crash and everything no one really noticed it at first, not like in 'notice it and wonder,' anyway. Oh, god we should have. We should have connected the dots earlier…" she berated herself and stopped again. She didn't feel it in her to say it, to tell him, but then Lucas softly whispered her name again and she felt his warm and comforting hand on her neck, in her hair.

She cleared her throat. "Lucas, that other car… the one that crashed into you… Tim was driving it." Her voice was a mere raspy breath by now as she said, "He's dead, Lucas…and so is Bevin… and two other kids from our school who have been in the car with them…"

Lucas suddenly backed away from Brooke and stared at her in shock. "But that's not possible," he said uncomprehendingly. "Haley and I—we took the keys from him, we took the keys, I'm sure we did. Ask Haley, she'll…"

Brooke was crying now, she hadn't been able to hold back the tears any longer and seeing Lucas's sudden distress at her words nearly even made her break out in sobs. She had known he would find a way to blame himself for it somehow.

"It wasn't his car, Luke, it belonged to one of the other kids. You couldn't have done anything to prevent—"

Someone abruptly opened the door and sent it banging against the wall, making it instantly shut again, which interrupted her mid-sentence and she turned to see Dan Scott enter Lucas's room.

-o0o-

Dan Scott was no man to back down easily. He was a man who only backed down and stopped himself from doing something if he knew he was wrong in some way, be it wrong about the way he approached a problem or the nature of the problem, or wrong about taking into consideration the possible repercussions of his not backing down under the given circumstances.

Still, it did not necessarily have to mean that he wouldn't find another way, another time and place to get back at the problem. And today, Dan thought, was a perfect day to deal with his most current one. Especially now that he had learned of what else had surfaced during the last couple days: Nathan's best friend had died in the car accident. And Dan still hadn't seen so much as one policeman in Lucas's room thus far. No one had asked the kid what he had done, no one had confronted him about any of it!

High time that Dan took matters into his own hands and forced Lucas to tell him what the hell he had been thinking that day, driving Nathan home. The boys didn't even like each other, but Lucas had chosen to drive Nate home? In the exact same night they ended up crashing into another car? Of all possible nights the boy had chosen that one? If that didn't scream something was wrong, Dan didn't know what else did.

Therefore, he had chosen to visit Karen's son again. He had even thought of assuring himself beforehand that the kid wouldn't die on him if things should get a little… rough… which of course could happen with that stubborn son of hers. Like mother, like son.

Barging into the room, he was momentarily put off by finding someone else in the boy's company, but quickly reset his mind to what he had come here for in the first place and stomped right up to Lucas's bed. One person didn't make much of an audience, and besides, Lucas's company was that teenage slut Brooke. Dan had difficulties seeing much of a threat in her.

"Mr. Scott!" she was just exclaiming and jumped out of the bed, frantically searching for something. He grinned once he figured out what that was and beat her to finding it. The call button. Then, he grabbed Lucas's shirt like he had done once before, and this time, he didn't let go. This time, there was no Nathan to stop him, no doctor, no Keith, no Karen, no Deb. Just that little bitch. And, honestly, she didn't pose much of a threat, not when she basically stood there, frozen, and was only watching.

"If I were you, Ms. Davies," he therefore sneered and shot her a glance before returning his focus back on the blonde boy lying in front of him, "I'd leave this room. Right. Now. Go and lie down in another patient's bed if this is what turns you on these days."

He hadn't quite anticipated Lucas's reaction, though. He hadn't been prepared for the kid's sudden attack and thus didn't duck in time for it so that the boy's fist collided with his face.

Grinning humorlessly, Dan straightened and wiped away the bit of blood that he had felt running out his nose. It was not much. "I'm sorry, does she mean anything to you?" he asked in mock concern, then bent down again and shook Lucas. "Still a little weak, are we?" he hissed while Lucas was struggling to fight him off.

"We need help in here!" that Brooke-girl suddenly started yelling, "Somebody!"

And when eventually she apparently even decided to join their little get-together by throwing her arms around Dan's neck in an attempt to distract him, he finally did start to get annoyed at her. Letting go of Lucas for a moment, he turned around, grabbed both of Brooke's arms forcefully, and made her unclasp her hold on him. Once he had succeeded in that, it was easy for him to regain control of the situation. And when he had it back, he grabbed her and shoved her into the wall—hard. Quite instantly her muscles went slack and she fell from his grasp, coming to lie on the ground in a still half propped up position as if she were merely sitting there, with her back against the wall. If it weren't for her lolling head…

"No! Brooke!" Lucas cried out and tried to lift himself up off the bed, gasping and falling back against the headboard when he jostled his damaged leg too much.

It was Dan's cue to return his full attention to him. Wiggling a finger accusingly, he scolded Luke, "I wouldn't do that, Lucas. Weren't you told to keep that leg immobile for a while? You don't want to mess up all your chances for it to get better, now do you?"

"YOU—" Lucas bit out, his nostrils flaring in anger. "If you hurt her any—"

"Aw, Lucas. She's just unconscious. Calm down. Besides, I'm not here for her. I'm here for you," explained Dan, and walked up close to the bed again until he could hear the kid's labored breathing, could see the mixture of concern and fear shining in his eyes.

"Hurt much? Does it?" Dan said, and followed Lucas's arms down to where his hands were clutching the bandaged leg. Slowly, he extended a hand and grabbed one of the boy's wrists, eventually forcing him to let go. "If I'm not mistaken we were interrupted last time. I'd like to start where we left off," he proclaimed and eyed the spot that seemed to cause the most pain. When he glanced at Lucas's face again, Dan noticed how tense the boy had become.

"I have nothing to tell you."

"Is that so?—Now, why do I think that's a lie? Eh? Can you tell me that? Why do I think you owe me an explanation as to what happened during that night? Were you drunk? Huh? HUH?" He didn't realize that he was raising his volume and thus coming dangerously close to alerting someone to his presence in Lucas's room, too intent was he on finally getting his chance to make Lucas talk.

"No… NO! Leave me alone! I'll call—"

"What? Are you going to call for help? Because your evil biological father is forcing you to own up to what you did? You are no Scott, Lucas. A Scott never asks for help. A Scott manages to solve his problems alone. A Scott—" he suddenly put his hand right on top of the injured leg and pushed down. Lucas's face lost all its color from one second to the next as he stifled a scream, a choking sound escaping him.

"A Scott does not get himself into such a mess.—And now you tell me what I want to hear, or…" He exerted more pressure on the leg, dug his fingers into it, all the while staring into Lucas's pain-filled eyes, all the while tightly grabbing the kid's one arm, thus effectively robbing him of any chance to shield himself.

"What exactly made you decide to drive Nathan home that night, Lucas, and end up crashing your car? Coincidence? Come one, tell me what the hell you were thinking—"

Dan was a little surprised when he got aware of all the blood suddenly staining the previously white bandages, just as he was surprised at the odd sensation when his fingers suddenly seemed to slip deeper in and Lucas merely gasped, then slumped forward lifelessly.

He was even surprised when he heard someone open the door, but not so much about who it was.

"Nathan," he said, and laughed out a short humorless sound. "Of course…"

Thanks for reading.