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

Nathan's grip on the doorknob momentarily tightened before the scene in front of him finally sank in properly. Lucas seemed to be unconscious, and Dan was standing right next to him, not even pretending to be looking for the call button, to be calling for help. Nathan clenched his jaw, angry thoughts and accusations already forming in his mind. He had been on his way to sneak out of the hospital when he had heard voices in Luke's room, loud enough for them to penetrate the thin walls, loud enough for Nathan to make out who Lucas's visitor was. He would have recognized that voice anywhere.

His first instinct had been to just walk away, pretend he hadn't heard anything, because he really didn't want to face his father—especially not with Luke around. So far Nathan had pretty effectively managed to avoid any serious confrontation by pretending to be asleep whenever Dan came to visit. Luckily, Dan Scott wasn't exactly the most caring father. He hadn't visited Nate all that often. Also, he hadn't spent any considerable amount of time in his son's room once he'd found Nate supposedly asleep. A few minutes of calling his name, cajoling him into waking up maybe, but that had been all. Therefore it really hadn't been all that difficult to deceive him, and Nathan was glad about that fact. So why did he have to have heard Dan yell in Lucas's room? Now of all times, now that he was trying to get the hell out of this friggin' place?—Why had he gotten that funny feeling about hearing Dan talk to his half-brother, anyway? It had left him with no choice to just walk away, not with that uncomfortable sense of foreboding having started to creep up inside of him. He owed Luke after all, for what he had done for him before… No matter what a mess Nathan had been, Lucas had conceded to bringing him home anyway, to spare him at least a little of Dan Scott's disproportionate rage after the screwed up game. All that felt like it had happened a lifetime ago. Still, Nate owed Luke—even if the older one had surely only reluctantly agreed to help him in the first place.

So here he was, eventually facing his father. He wasn't quite sure what he was seeing, why Lucas's sat in that awkward half slumped position and Dan—Dan was simply standing there, taking Nathan in.

"Dad?"

"It's not what it looks like," Dan explained in a calm voice like he were speaking to a five-year-old. "Nathan… Lucas passed out, but I did not have anything to do with that.—We better call for someone—"

"What have you done," hissed Nathan despite his father's assurances, not waiting for him to finish his sentence. Nathan's voice remained level. It wasn't exactly a question he was directing at Dan. He stared at his father and then let his gaze drift over to Lucas again.

"Nothing, Nathan. Believe me," Dan said. He slowly moved to lean across Lucas, but when he saw his younger son jump he held both hands up in a no-harm gesture. Careful not to let the blood on his fingers show, he shielded his stained hand by slightly turning more toward Lucas, just enough to be able to shield the hand with his upper body. "I'm just easing him down a little, Nathan. And instead of standing there like a complete idiot you should go and get a nurse in here. Now!"

Nathan eyed Dan suspiciously when the latter started to slowly lower Lucas's upper body onto the headboard. Nate had no reason whatsoever to believe anything his father said, though. And something was definitely off about all this. He just knew.

He was not prepared to see what his gaze fell on next, but if he had really needed any more proof that Luke's being unconscious in Dan's presence was not merely some badly timed coincidence, then he had gotten that proof now: Brooke was lying on the floor not far from the bed, a small but quite noticeable reddish blot staining the wall a little above her head.

"Oh god, Dad, what the hell have you done? Brooke! Oh crap, oh my god…" Nathan suddenly shouted in shock. "What have you done?" For a second he was too stunned to move or do anything. But then he pushed himself off of the door and came straight at his father. It didn't take him long to bridge the gap between Dan and himself. In an instant he had grabbed the older man by his arm, wanted to drag him away from Luke and Brooke. It was then that he noticed the blood on Dan's fingers and shoved his father away in disgust. Eyes wide, he stared at the man who was supposed to be his father. He stared at him, and suddenly he could no longer fight down the urge to punch Dan—and so he did.

This time, Dan had seen it coming, though. Quickly, he gripped Nathan's wrist and wrenched his son's arm down again. Letting out a sigh, he said,

"Calm down, Nate. Your behavior is absolutely inappropriate." His voice sounded ominously calm, thus standing in stark contrast with the viselike grip he suddenly had on Nathan's arm.

"Inappropriate? Dad? What have you done to them, huh? Are you telling me Brooke was already lying there like that, too, when you entered the room? Are you telling me you had nothing to do with all this, and Luke—"

Nate had tried to push himself past Dan for the last couple seconds, had tried to reach Brooke and see what his father had done to her, how bad she had been hurt, but to no avail. Dan proved to be so much stronger than he, especially now that Nathan was still dealing with the repercussions of the accident and wasn't completely up to par yet. As soon as he realized he wouldn't get far if he continued to fight his dad, he relaxed. Staring at the man in front of him, he could only see a complete stranger in him now, no trace of his father.

"Nathan."

He felt his body turn rigid again, but he tried not to move. Let Dan believe he wouldn't fight him anymore, and then…

"Will you look at me, son?"

"I'm—not your son anymore," Nathan bit out and averted his eyes. He cast a glance at Lucas's prone form, and was devastated to notice blood seeping through the bandage around his brother's injured leg.

"Oh god, Dad. Please say you didn't do any of this…" Nathan pleaded weakly, fighting hard to stop unwanted tears of anger from welling in his eyes.

"Well, I didn't," Dan began, but his son only huffed unhappily at hearing that. Dan flinched in annoyance—what was Nathan doing up and walking around the damn hospital, anyway? "Not exactly. I found Lucas like this—"

"Right…"

"—No, seriously, Nathan… I can't believe you're forcing me to explain myself like that, but alright. For the sake of your still being a little under the weather I'll tolerate your stupid behavior for now and play along.—For now, mind you… But you'll have to listen. Son. I did not do anything to Lucas. As I said, I found him like this. I wanted to call a nurse, but that girl—Brooke—stormed in right then and attacked me. Surely because she misinterpreted things, just like you did—No, let me finish—She threw herself at me, alright? I was only defending myself, I didn't mean to—"

"How come I don't believe you?" Nathan interrupted him, his tone challenging and cold. "Let me check on her—let me…"

"Nathan." Dan was still locking his hand around Nathan's arm in a strong grip, and placing the other on his son's shoulder he started shaking him insistently. "Son…"

"Don't you 'Son' me like that, Dad! Let me check how bad you hurt her—and take your hand off of me! Let. Go." Nathan was livid by now. He had tried so hard to stay calm, to deceive Dan into thinking he was safe, but he couldn't rein in his anger for much longer. He just couldn't. And when he suddenly became aware of a light stir in Brooke's slumped frame, he took it as his cue to lunge at Dan and force him out of the way.

He hadn't anticipated his father's anger to suddenly flash up again. He couldn't quite believe it when he found himself shoved against the wall and staring into his father's dark and angry eyes.

"I told you to let it go, Nathan."

"What, and leave you to finish torturing Lucas? And make everyone else believe your stupid lie? What did you do to them? What the hell is wrong with you, dad? Why—"

"Don't you think it's a little odd how he ended up banging into another car that night? With you of all people accompanying him, Nathan?"

"What?" Nathan said incredulously. Was his father seriously implying what Nate thought he was? "You don't honestly think he did any of it on purpose, Dad, do you?"

"Why not? He envied you, we all know that."

Nathan laughed humorlessly. He couldn't believe this. It just couldn't be true. "Dad," he said in a defeated tone. He let his gaze wander from his father's face to where he saw Brooke slowly and silently push herself up into a sitting, then a standing position. She looked more than a little shaky, but once he saw her put a finger to her lips motioning for him to remain silent, he knew she was at least half on her way back to being okay again. So he returned his eyes to his father's. He didn't want to give Brooke away by staring at her and thus alerting Dan to her having regained consciousness.

"No," he therefore simply said, with his good arm trying to push Dan away.

"No?" Dan looked a little startled. "Come on, Nate, we both know that he envied you. Your place in the team, your being better at basketball. He envied us our social status, our money. He envied you your having a mother and a father—and your relationship with me."

Suddenly, Nathan couldn't help but laugh, heartfelt, startling his father even more.

"What the hell's wrong with you, Nathan?"

"With me? Dad? What's wrong with me?" he snorted. He didn't really want to say anything more, especially when thinking of the consequences their whole darn 'conversation' would surely have later-on. And still, beat, he whispered, "He definitely got over that whole envying our relationship part a while back, I'm sure…"

"What are you talking about?" Dan's voice had turned to ice very abruptly. Already Nathan felt himself being shoved further up against the wall, felt Dan's body connect with his injured arm, and he winced. But Nate didn't feel like giving in to pain, not until he was sure Brooke had managed to reach the friggin' call button and pressed it to finally alert the hospital staff.

Tiredly, he grinned at his father. The whole surreal situation they were in, facing each other as if for some sort of showdown, it was simply too much. He expected Dan to say something mean and hurtful any second now, for this was still Dan Scott, right? He just knew something was coming his way, but as long as it kept Dan from further tormenting Lucas and Brooke Nathan could hold out a little while longer. He simply had to do it, had to keep the man away from his two friends—from his brother…

And anyway, there wasn't much left with which Dan could hurt him—truly hurt him. Physical pain? He knew Dan wouldn't overdo it in that department. Nathan's health was his most valuable asset after all, right? Although his arm was really starting to hurt quite badly again by now…

"Did you know that with that crash Lucas killed Tim? Your best friend, Tim?"

There.

Nathan heard Brooke gasp, heard her say something without being able to decipher the exact words. His gaze fell on Lucas again when all of a sudden Dan let go of him as from out of nowhere Brooke punched him hard, right when the first nurse entered the room and thus unknowingly prevented the two from having a go at each other. Nevertheless, the woman did cast them a suspicious glance as she rushed right up to Lucas's side to check him over.

"What happened?" she wanted to know from no one in particular.

Nathan saw her check the blonde's pupils. He also saw Brooke shoot him a glance and mouth a "You okay?" before she returned her attention back to Luke.

Dan grabbed his arm again, though lightly for once. Nathan easily freed himself out of his father's grasp this time, and thankfully Dan didn't dare approach him again. Not now that they got company…

So that had been the thing, Nathan finally realized, slowly, as if waking out of a haze—the thing intended to hurt him.

"He killed your best friend, son," Dan quietly hissed, his stare boring into Nate. "And you are standing here accusing me of doing something wrong?" he questioned, sounding so self-righteous that Nathan felt the urge to puke.

Dan had said it only to hurt him. And hurt him it did. Not like Dan had surely intended it to do, though. No, not like that at all. It wasn't like Nathan didn't already know that Tim was dead, hadn't already known it since the night of the accident. It wasn't like he didn't know of Bevin, too, and of the others. No. He did know of them all right. He had seen them after all, had seen all of them.

But he had managed to ban those memories, had managed to bury them somewhere deep in his mind, shoved them right to the back of it: all the blood, the gore, the deathly pale and lifeless bodies that once had been his friends. And now?

Now the images were all back.

Nathan could only stare past Dan, stare on to where Lucas was lying, was being cajoled into opening his eyes.

He heard himself ask whether Luke was okay, heard it as if someone else was actually asking that question.

And suddenly—if slowly—Lucas did open his eyes, looked at Brooke, at the nurse, then stared straight back at Nathan until the younger one could only lower his head to inspect the ground.

Nate heard Luke call Brooke's name, he heard them both mumble some incomprehensible words. He heard his own name being called, heard someone—but who exactly?—question his father as to what had happened, heard Dan try to lie his way out of all this once again. He heard Brooke butt in, shout over his father.

Distractedly, Nathan ran a hand through his hair, tried to even his breathing, tried to tune them out if only for a moment. He desperately needed to readjust his focus, make sure Luke and Brooke really were okay—and leave. Just get the hell away from all this…

Closing his eyes, he was hoping to get rid of the reawakened memories, but all he saw were the images of that night, burned into his retinas in merciless clarity—and Dan, standing poised over Lucas, fingers smeared with tell-tale smudges of crimson.

Suddenly, he felt a light touch on his arm and heard a familiar soothing voice call his name. Haley. But he kept his eyes closed for yet a little while longer. Tutor girl… She couldn't really be here, could she? He remembered having seen her that night, too, remembered…

And why was she always there when things were starting to fall apart around him?

"Nathan?" she repeated. "God, what—what happened? Nathan?—Lucas…"

Finally opening his eyes again, he merely stared at her, couldn't get out a word, not one.

"Brooke?" Haley therefore readdressed her question. "Are you okay? What—god, are you bleeding?"

"It's—I'm okay. It's Lucas. Dan came at him, Haley, he—he hurt Lucas…"

"Oh my god…"

She was holding onto Nathan's arm when she saw someone escort a somewhat defeated and deflated looking Dan Scott out of the room. She was still holding onto the younger Scott brother while listening to Brooke tell her what had happened in this room in the last few minutes. Thus she was able to react quickly when Nathan suddenly let himself sink to the floor without so much as a warning and came to sit with his back resting against the wall, staring into space.

She didn't say anything at first, she just reacted. Kneeling down right in front of him she tried to make him look at her, then started whispering things until finally he did look up into her face, his eyes brimming with unshed tears, his chin moving traitorously, giving away how upset he really was.

"God," he suddenly choked out, disbelief tingeing the word. "My Dad's a fucking monster. He's a—"

"Nathan…"

"He's… a monster, Haley. He seems to have basically tortured Luke, he—look at Brooke, he—crap if I—if I hadn't happened to come by, what else would he have done, what—shit…"

Finally he couldn't help it anymore, couldn't help himself, he was so upset. The words just died on his lips as he felt himself coming ever closer to cracking up. Feeling horribly devastated all of a sudden, he was hyper-aware of her hand touching his face, holding his chin.

"Hey…" she whispered in a shy attempt at comforting him. "But you did come by in time, right? You did. Hey… Nathan, it's okay…" She smiled at him compassionately just as all of a sudden he grabbed her arm fiercely—both to feel her closeness and to keep her at a distance. And eventually he allowed her to pull him toward her into a surprisingly gentle yet tight embrace. He couldn't stop the tears from coming, he had no strength left for that. He couldn't help clinging to her; and her closeness, her touch, the smell of her hair, of her clothes were probably the only things preventing him from starting to break into actual sobs…

If Haley hadn't come out of nowhere just then, if she hadn't been there… if…

But she had come. She was there... And she wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.