When Lucas was to take his first careful steps, the three women he cared most about in his life were all present, and honestly, he didn't quite know how he felt about that. It was not exactly like he was feeling all too confident about leaving the relative safety of the wheelchair behind to begin with—and in order to trust his weakened legs to carry him instead… Brooke's cheerleading outfit didn't help in making this any easier, either. She had even brought her pompons, which spoke of the amount of confidence she had put in this whole enterprise and in him. So he better tried to feel a little more confident himself soon if she was already making such an effort on his behalf.

At first he had hated the mere sight of the stupid wheelchair, granted. But once his mom, Brooke, and Haley had begun taking turns wheeling him around the hallways of the hospital during the past two weeks that had changed profoundly. He had liked it to finally be able to venture out of the confines of his room again after having spent nearly a month just lying there, waiting—hoping for his injured leg to get better. He had waited for the doc to tell him something to look forward to. Anything, really. Therefore it had come as a tremendous relief when the doctor announced that Luke was finally ready to start with rehab, if only slowly and by doing just a few exercises every day. Still, it had been the beginning of some sort of progress which was still continuing now.

Looking back on the day Brooke, a huge and all too eagerly hopeful smile plastered across her face, had first brought in the wheelchair, Lucas felt more than ashamed about his behavior back then, about the things he'd said. He wished he had reacted differently. He wished he had shown at least a small amount of enthusiasm—if only for her sake.

He looked over to her now, saw her smile that typical Brooke Davis smile of hers—all dimples and shining eyes—and decided that this time he would not disappoint her. Let him be afraid of the pain he was sure would shoot up his leg once he set his foot on the ground in front of him and put weight on it; let him be afraid of needing help for his first steps; let him be afraid of failing right in front of all their eyes, of not being able to take even one step. But he would not allow himself to be weak. He would go about this with confidence, he had to. He owed it to Brooke, for sticking with him through all this, through his way too many bad patches. He owed it to her, just as he owed it to his mom, and Haley, for always being there, cheering him up, distracting him if need be, all that.

But more than anything, he owed it to himself. Because he wanted this to work; he wanted to be able to walk again. If nothing else, he at least wanted to be able to walk, just as he had seen himself do in that dream he had been dreaming before Brooke had woken him up on the day she confronted him with the wheelchair, cheerfully announcing that it was...

-o0o-

… "Time to get up, Lucas Scott!—And don't tell me you were still sleeping at this hour of the day."

"Brooke…," Lucas whined, rubbing his eyes before sleepily stretching his arms above him.

"Come on, Scott. Aren't you the one usually telling me that so much can be done in the early hours of the day—including the weekends? It's nothing a Brooke Davis would ever say, but hey, you did, and so you'll have to live with the consequences now, sweetie. So get up already," Brooke said grinning and opened the door a little farther for the wheelchair she was about to wheel into Luke's room. She was more than just a little excited at the prospect of finally being allowed to "kidnap" her boyfriend and get him out of his stuffy, hated hospital room for a little tour around the building. Well, maybe it wouldn't exactly be that much of a thrilling event, and also, the doctor had instructed her not to overdo it, yet, and bring him back after only a few minutes. But Brooke had no reason to complain, really, because it would at least still give Luke the opportunity to see something else for a change, something other than the four walls of this room; and if that wouldn't cheer him up, Brooke didn't know what else would.

"Getting up loses somewhat of its meaning in my situation, though, don't you agree?" Lucas piped up again, indicating the bed in which he had been lying for what felt like more than enough days already. "That doesn't exactly make for a good motivation to start the day early."

"Yes, I know. But I have something for you, baby, something that'll surely cheer you up."

Brooke playfully pointed a finger at him, with her free hand playing with a strand of her hair in a sudden show of nervousness. "Just you wait and see, Luke, you're going to like this. I'll be right back," she then blurted out and left to go and get the wheelchair as well as the waiting nurse whose task would be to help Lucas get into it.

"Ta-dah!" she made, presenting the gray and admittedly a little dull-looking thing with outstretched arms like it were some kind of present more deserving of a glamorous entrance than a simple wheelchair. Beaming at Lucas she waited for him to say somethin, but wasn't at all prepared for his reaction once it hit her.

"What the hell is that doing in my room, Brooke?" he spat, anger quite suddenly coloring his face.

"Luke—"

"Get it out! Get it out for fuck's sake! Are you telling me I'm not going to be able to walk again? Leave this room without the help of that… that thing?"

"Mr. Scott, maybe you should try to calm down again."

The nurse's words, sounding like a mere suggestion, were instantly overlapped by Brooke's own desperate outcry.

"Lucas, please. That's absolutely not what I intended to—"

"You've got to be stupid to have thought I'd…I'd even consider letting anyone wheel me around like a… freakin' cripple," he interrupted her rudely, not giving her a chance to defend herself, right the wrong impression he'd somehow gotten. "I'm NOT a cripple, got that? I'm not. And I don't need Brooke Davis doing her best to make me feel like one. —I tell you what," "No way I'm ever going to…to to… use that sort of thing! Never! I'll die first!"

"Oh God, don't you say that."

"Mr. Scott."

"If I don't walk out of here on my own two feet eventually? I will; and that's a promise."

She didn't know when she had started crying, but right then she felt the tears pooling on her chin, felt them drop down. She felt cold all of a sudden, a coldness that had nothing to do with the temperature in the room and everything with the scathing look on his face, the venom in his horrible words.

"Now get it out of my sight!"

She bit down hard on her lip to stop her chin from trembling all too much and nodded. "Okay…," she then whispered, grabbed the wheelchairs handles and made to turn around.

"Mr. Scott," the nurse started again, but Brooke only waved a hand at the man and with as much strength as she could muster said,

"No, Ray. You heard him. Thanks anyway."

She smiled at him sadly, traces of tears still lining her cheeks, and he nodded. Stepping toward her, he took the object of Lucas' wrath out of her hands and wheeled it out, allowing her to take a few deep breaths before leaving.

Lucas had remained eerily silent after his last outburst, surely wallowing in his anger, and Brooke was nearly at the door before she made up her mind. She turned around again and faced him, let him see that her tears were already drying. Pointing at him, she said,

"And now let me tell you something, Lucas. No one has the right to speak to me like you just did. No one." She paused, meeting his defiant stare. "Nevertheless, I'll try to forget the things you just said and remind myself that you're not quite yourself at the moment. You've been through a hard time these past weeks; I know that you still have a long way to go, and I'd love to be there for you throughout the whole journey, no matter the outcome. I'd still love to accompany you on that way, Lucas Scott, even after the things you just said. But if I ever hear you say any of this again, if I ever see you act like a child with a temper tantrum again when someone offers you the chance to take the next step out of this place, I'll be out of this. I'll be out of here, and out of your life. No going back.—Did you already forget what happened to all the other people involved in the accident?"

"Brooke…" Lucas' face had suddenly taken on an ashen hue.

Brooke didn't quite know where those words had come from, but even though they seemed to have hurt him quite severely, she didn't feel it in herself to regret a thing she had said.

"Don't you think Tim, or Bevin would have given anything—anything—to be offered a chance like yours? Don't you think they'd rather be here, now, confronted with a wheelchair?—You don't want it? Fine,—but walking means getting out of this bed first. So use the wheelchair just for now, then. Consider this a… transitional state. Do your exercises. Fight harder. Above all, start believing in yourself, Lucas—and not only when you feel like it. You have to really believe you can do this—that you'll eventually be walking again someday. I believe in that, Lucas. I believe you'll be able to walk again sooner than anyone thinks possible. Do you?"

-o0o-

Okay Scott, you can do this, Lucas told himself looking sternly across to where Brooke was performing a tamer version of her usual cheering dance. Despite his tension she still managed to bring a smile to his face, making his lips quirk up in a slightly strained grin.

"Come on, Luke. Remember yesterday: you've already done the standing up part. This is just taking it one step further—oooh did you hear that? "Taking it one step further," Brooke Davis: master of witty wordplays! You better watch out, Lucas Scott, you'll have some serious competition in the writing business later-on in life!"

"Yeah, alright," Lucas laughed, grateful she hadn't yet lost her enthusiasm in the face of his seeming slowness at solving the task of "put both feet in front of you, brace yourself, rise into a standing position, slowly shift your weight from one leg to both."

Lucas gazed over to where Brooke, Haley, and his mom were waiting. They looked so hopeful, happy even that he had come this far in so short a time. He couldn't disappoint them now, could he? He had promised Brooke he would fight and he had. So much so that even she had told him once to take it a little more easily again, just a little… Now was the time to prove to her, to all of them, and to him, that there really was a way out of the wheelchair. Besides, it wasn't like he was supposed to walk without crutches, anyway…

"You can do this, Lucas!" Haley cajoled, and 'You can do this' were the words he chose as his mantra to guide him through this, hopefully unscathed…

With that thought he finally, slowly and very gradually, raised himself to his feet and for the first time tried to balance his whole weight on both legs. He had to close his eyes throughout the process, thus trying to ward off the searing pain, or seeing as that didn't work: trying to concentrate on not giving in to it already.

"Yes! You're doing great, baby!"

"Yes, Lucas!"

They weren't that far away, he needed to remind himself, and the doctor as well as a nurse were standing somewhere close behind him too, right? Nothing could go wrong, really. "All's well that ends well," came the Shakespeare quote to his mind unbidden. So why then could he feel beads of sweat erupting on his forehead? And just why hadn't the pain begun to subside at least a little bit by now? Was he really supposed to simply "walk through the pain" as the doctor had instructed him earlier? Somehow he couldn't help doubting he'd actually gotten that right. But no matter, he had set himself a task and he would complete it. Today would be the day he took his first real steps after the accident.

Adjusting the crutches, he made to place the foot of his injured leg in front of him. He looked up to where the girls were standing. He even managed a smile in their direction, or something that felt like a believable version of an actual smile, anyway.

And then he eventually made the long anticipated move, and the next thing he heard was the odd sound of Haley and his mom screaming, and Brooke yelling his name in a vaguely panicked sounding tone of voice…

-o0o-

Dan finally signed the last of the papers he had been given and waited for the young officer to hand over his personal belongings. Drumming his fingers on the desk in a show of impatience, he couldn't help a comment escaping his mouth.

"Lady, people like you with no life outside of work may have all the time in the world, but a Dan Scott actually has places to be—and I already lost a month of precious time by spending it here. I'm not intending to postpone my departure any farther into the future because of your working speed, okay?"

"Mr. Scott," his lawyer muttered warningly and placed a hand on his forearm.

Annoyed, Dan turned toward the man, removed his hand and said, "And you Mr. Granger, may very well leave now. Your job is done here—and may I remind you, you didn't exactly excel in it, seeing as I'm only now getting out of here again. Don't you agree?"

He didn't wait for the idiot to make any sort of retort for just then the officer—who, sadly, was nowhere near being a stunner, either—handed him a brown envelope holding the few belongings he'd had on him the day they had arrested him. He grinned angrily at the memory, and once again cursed his brother and Karen for actually having reported him to the police after the little incident over at the hospital a couple of weeks ago.

At least Granger had somehow managed to settle that matter, Dan had to give him that. Although it had meant pleading guilty in the first place, putting all hopes on the jury accepting Granger's proffered explanation of Dan only having done what he had done because the accident had terribly unsettled him. To back that somewhat daring theory up a little more, the man had even come up with a psychiatrist willing to write a report on Dan's mental state at the time of the incident. Dan still had to read that one, he was more than a little curious to learn what exactly that shrink had "diagnosed" that might not have come up in court. As convincing as the thing might have been, though, it hadn't saved him from spending a month in this godforsaken place, just as it wouldn't save him from having to do 300 hours of community service over at the local animal shelter, starting the next day. But he could live with that, especially considering the alternative (the one Keith and that bitch Karen had favored): serving an actual sentence, spending more than just four weeks in jail.

He'd never forget how Karen's face had fallen that day in court, or the ridiculous melodramatic rendition of a mother who had been wronged that she had given… What had she thought would happen? That any judge would seriously convict Dan Scott of a crime such as child abuse?

Child abuse? He'd show her what abuse meant if she wanted it… Shaking his head, he swaggered out of the building, checking his newly reclaimed watch for the time, before scanning the parking lot for the car he expected to pick him up. And there it was: Deb's car, neatly parked not more than a few feet away. Without further ado he jumped into it, actually bothered with giving her a short peck on the cheek, and grumbled,

"Let's get the hell out of here, Deb. Go."

"Listen, Dan, I'm only doing this to make sure I know where you're going—Don't get any ideas, and don't look at me like that. That stuff in the back? It's yours. The rest is in the trunk. No way I'm allowing you anywhere near my son after what you did."

"De-eb…,"

"Don't 'De-eb' me, Dan. It's over. You're not returning home with us. I booked you into a motel. Consider it a last act of generosity on my behalf if you will. Don't even think of ever calling me again after that. And I swear to God, if you don't stay away from Nathan…"

"Oh come on, Deb, this is really getting ridiculous now," Dan said, sounding truly affronted. "Do you think I'd ever hurt our son?"

"Ridiculous is not a word I'd choose, Dan. I, contrary to you as it seems, have not forgotten what happened with Lucas at the hospital. Lucas, who is your son just as well as Nathan is… So don't you dare come anywhere near my house, or my son. Oh, and I want a divorce," Deb added, the last bit sounding like some sort of afterthought that had only just occurred to her.

Dan merely stared at her, for a moment unable to say anything at all.

-o0o-

Lucas felt Brooke's lips on his when next he dared open his eyes.

"Hey baby," she mouthed, voiceless nearly, only lifting her head an inch or so to be able to look him in the eyes.

Frowning, he tried to remember what had happened after he had started proceeding with his attempt at walking. Weirdly, though, he couldn't seem to come up with a scenario that could sufficiently explain why he was apparently back lying in his bed, with Brooke hovering somewhere over him, her dark curls hanging down either side of her pretty face.

"Brooke?" he whispered uncertainly, marveling at the beauty of her dimpled smile. Oh, how he loved those dimples…

"Don't you ever scare me like that again, L. Scott," she pouted, despite her words gently caressing his face and placing another kiss on his lips, making him lean into her more, craving more…

"Nuh-uh, Luke. Naughty boy. First you just pass out like that after you finally walked a first real step and now you're already up and ready for some action in bed? You Scott boys! Insatiable, the whole lot of you."

"What do you mean, the whole lot…," Lucas demanded to know, not quite sure whether she was only teasing him or not. Surely she and Dan had never… But had she and Nathan… Wait, did she just say he passed out? Lucas couldn't remember passing out, it couldn't be true, it—but he remembered the pain… Suddenly, he felt quite sobered up again. Imploring Brooke with his eyes, he waited for her to tell him what exactly happened. "Brooke, I—passed out?"

"Aw, poor baby. You don't even remember that, huh? Well, you better rest now, pretty boy. Tomorrow we'll talk, okay? And then you can try it again, if you feel completely up to it. This time, though, do use those crutches, you hear? I'm not playing nurse for you forever, you know?" Brooke was still grinning brightly, and yet she couldn't quite mask her worry. Too scared had she been when all of a sudden Lucas had broken down right in front of them all only minutes before. Apparently, the strain to his leg had proved to be a little too much still. Somehow she couldn't help feeling responsible for the way he was pushing himself. He really needed to take better care of himself, to take it a little easier. It didn't help anyone if he was ruining his leg by overdoing it with the getting back to walking business.

For a moment she considered telling him what the doctor had said about rushing things: that he might do more damage to his leg that way than the accident had already done… Looking into his eyes, so trusting and warm, she didn't have the heart to do it, though. Not now…

So instead, she simply kissed him again, allowing his tongue to enter her mouth and forage into the realm of his with her own...