-o0o-

Lucas was watching his fellow team members getting ready for yet another training session. It felt wrong, though; having to watch from the sidelines. Sitting in his stupid wheelchair beside Whitey Lucas felt more constricted by his present condition than he had felt during the last couple of days. Actually, practicing walking with Nurse Ray had made him feel so much better that he had started thinking it would only be a short way from there back onto the basketball court. But right now that possibility felt so far away again… He saw Skillz dunk a ball playfully, saw him hanging in the air for a short while, before he let himself fall back on his feet. Involuntarily Lucas winced, earning a worried sideways glance from the Coach.

"Now, Lucas," the older man spoke up and crossed his arms in front of him. "I take it that you know nobody expects miracles from you so soon." It was no question. Lucas nodded lamely, his nonverbal response obviously not satisfying Whitey. The man turned to face Luke and looked at him with an inscrutable expression. "You'll get back there eventually, son. No need to rush matters." He paused. "It's not like we don't need you back, though. Haven't won any darn game since you and that brother of yours and even—" He stopped midsentence. Lucas knew why, of course. He could see Whitey's jaw muscles twitch as the man was apparently debating with himself if it would be wise to continue. But whether he was thinking of his student's mental well-being or his own, that, Lucas did not know. "That Smith boy," Whitey finally mumbled, continuing louder, "Haven't won in too long, son, I can tell you. So get back on track, alright?—Just don't push it… Aw, like that other stupid Scott on my team!" Whitey suddenly shouted and headed straight onto the field, startling Luke for only a second. Then he saw what—or rather who—the Coach had spotted. There was Nate, entering the gym, taking long confident strides until he reached his fellow team mates.

"Nathan Scott!" the Coach yelled, just as Lucas's gaze strayed to where Brooke and her squad of cheerleaders had begun rehearsing what looked like some pretty complicated moves. She sent a smile his way, blew him a kiss, and waved briefly. But after that she focused her attention back on her fellow cheerleaders.

Lucas knew it to be a stupid thought, yet he couldn't help feeling terribly left out. Frowning, and angry at himself, he forced himself to remain in the gym nevertheless, if only to observe the team's progress, and take a peek at his beautiful girlfriend every once in a while. If it wasn't for Brooke's presence in his bleak life…

"Hey," someone beside him suddenly said and he turned halfway in his wheelchair to look at a tall brown-haired boy of about his age who stood looming over him. "Lucas, right?"

"Uh huh."

The guy sat down. "Guess you don't remember me. I'm Greg. I was there the night you guys… you know…," he explained, stopping once he saw the blond kid nod not so much in recognition as because he knew what Greg had been aiming to say. "So, how's things?" he asked, oblivious to the fact that his attempt at small talk seemed somewhat odd to his conversational partner.

"Uh, good, thanks.—You?"

"Oh. Same here. Well, you know, this might sound a bit weird, but my teacher kinda forced me to take on a project concerning memory—so as to catch up and stuff. 'Cause back at my old school we weren't exactly as far into the subject as you guys here, so…"

Impatiently as well as slightly annoyed by the new guy, Lucas interrupted him, "Just spit it out, dude, okay? Does this have anything to do with me?"

Greg looked down sheepishly, hoping Lucas wouldn't see through his admittedly lame attempt at getting a few more insights into his whole relationship with Brooke. "Well, okay, here goes: I was just wondering if you'd be willing to, um, tell me if you remember anything from that night at the beach, or what you do remember; 'cause, you know, I'm sorta examining the influence of, um—traumatic experiences on the mind…"

Lucas felt a sudden anger flare up in him, though he told himself he should be a little more grateful and forthcoming, since the guy had helped them that night after all. Still, he couldn't quite pinpoint it, but he had gotten the impression that Greg was only trying to get inside his head instead of working on an actual project. If there even was a project to begin with, which Lucas doubted. That, though, had him wondering what the newbie might be up to in truth. Luckily, he was spared to answer Greg for right then he heard his brother yell out somewhere farther off,

"I can play, Coach! I'm fine! You gotta let me play, for fuck's sake!"

"Nathan Scott! I won't have any of that language on my court!" Whitey seethed, though a part of him felt for the boy. He was simply angry, angry at himself, at Whitey, at the world. But once Whitey had seen how the kid still favored his one arm, he had already made a decision. Having seen Nathan practically gasp when Skillz had accidentally tackled him a little harsher than intended had only farther manifested the Coach's belief. It would be a mistake to let the kid play in the coming game.

"You are out, Nathan!"

"Coach!" The kid whined. It visibly pained Whitey to be so adamant about sending him off of the field, yet he knew it was the only right thing to do. The boy was destroying his health here, and he couldn't have that. Not for the sake of finally having a small chance of winning a game again after what felt like forever.

"You heard me, Nathan. No discussions about it," he therefore stated. "You are not playing in this Friday's game, is that understood?"

"But I—"

"I don't want to hear anything from you anymore, Scott! Now leave my court, and come back when you can actually use that arm of yours!" he shouted, already regretting his last words once he saw the kid's face fall.

"Screw you!" Nate yelled, suddenly looking more hurt than angry, or so Whitey thought. Storming out of the gym without looking back once, he made a show of banging the door as loud as he could before disappearing in the hallway; like a small, deeply hurt child… Whitey took a deep, calming breath. He allowed his shoulders to sag and his lungs to deflate. Sighing, he finally turned toward his team, and looked into a bunch of apprehensive faces. Even from over where the little group of cheerleaders was practicing, he felt worried stares pierce his back uncomfortably. Briefly closing his eyes to fight a feeling of resignation, a feeling that had become a constant companion since his team had been so tragically decimated, he eventually forced himself to shout out, "What are you all waiting for, huh? Practice is not over yet! So get your sorry asses back on there and show me that you can still pull it off!"

That said, he eventually made his way back to the stands. Of course that other Scott boy was still sitting there, had witnessed everything. The old coach sighed again. What was it with those Scotts? Each and every one of them proved to be a nuisance; some sooner, some later. Some more so than others, yet they all seemed to have only one aim in life, make Whitey's life yet a little harder. At least Lucas wasn't trying to play ball again… yet. He wouldn't be ready to for quite a while, the old man was afraid to admit to himself; just as Nathan wasn't ready yet. With him, Whitey couldn't quite shake the feeling that his starting practice so soon after he had been released from the hospital hadn't even really been so much his own decision than that of a certain older Scott.

"Lucas," Whitey said once he reached the blond boy, eyeing the new kid sitting in the stands suspiciously. "And you are?" the Coach in him asked, already suspecting the unknown boy to be some spy or other.

"Greg Anders, Sir. I guess I'm still sorta the new kid around this school…"

"Uh huh…," Whitey merely mumbled, disregarding the boy as soon as he knew he didn't pose a threat to revealing his tactics for the next game. "Lucas. Guess you heard my little… exchange with your brother back there. I know you boys still haven't quite made it up to each other, but I was wondering—"

Lucas, taking pity on his struggling Coach, interrupted him. "I'll go after him, Coach." With a nod, he wheeled around and made his way out of the gym, where he had felt so out of place anyway. Besides, this way he would also get rid of that Greg-idiot.

-o0o-

Once Nathan had showered and changed, he left the locker room, still feeling incredibly angry. That Whitey wouldn't let him play was bad enough. But how was he to tell his father the news? Dan and his stupid overzealous attempts to bring Nathan straight into the NBA.

And don't pass go…

Sighing, he turned a corner, running straight into Haley James of all people. Awesome; that was all he needed after today's tutoring lesson, and now that run-in with the Coach. At least she hadn't lost her books like the girls always did in those stupid chick flicks. No, she was standing there, hugging her pile of books tightly as if without them, she might lose all her footing, or whatever. She probably was lost without anything to read.

"Haley."

"Nathan, hi." She stared at him. With neither of them saying anything for the next couple seconds, the moment stretched on until the awkwardness became nearly unbearable.

"Listen," he therefore finally said only half looking at her. "About earlier… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…" He was bad with apologies. Usually, the girls made him struggle on finding something to say that would explain his behavior. Haley, though, didn't seem to wallow in seeing him fight his discomfort for she hurried to assure him, "I know. I shouldn't have pressed you, I guess. But, Nathan, you know if there's anything you want to talk about…"

"Yeah, uh… Thanks Hales." God, the way she was looking at him nearly made him forget what she had implied; and finally he was all set on ignoring her words and give in to that strong urge to kiss her—if only he could fight that annoying worry she might just back away.

"Nathan?"

"Huh?"

A frown crossed Haley's features. He seemed so far away again. She leaned back a little to be able to see his face. She just couldn't help herself, she was worried about him. Still; for since she had sat with him in the ambulance after the accident she had never really stopped worrying about him. Not one second… And now, after the things he had written in that stupid essay she had assigned him to write earlier, her fear that something was deeply wrong about his relationship with his father had increased even more. If Dan Scott's appalling behavior toward Luke was anything to go by, living with the man on a day to day basis must be hell. Haley didn't even dare picture what horrors Nathan was probably enduring when no one was there to watch him and his dad.

"Are you sure you're alright? If there's anything I can do…"

He smiled then, not so much a cocky grin as a sad and small smile. "Yeah, well…," he said, his voice coming out as a quiet rasp. There sure was something she could do… Yet, he was sure that after today's disastrous tutoring session, she didn't only see him as some no-good jerk, but also as a hopeless case with an abhorring view on things. As memories of when he was still in the hospital and she had basically seen him break down suddenly flashed his mind, he couldn't help but flinch. Shouldering his bag, he decided to flee, his brain still refusing to come up with anything to say as parting words just when suddenly he saw her bend forward and gently brush her lips against his.

Shocked, Haley backed away almost instantly, cursing herself for the horrible slipup. What in the world had made her think this was an appropriate time for a kiss? What had made her think that he might even do so much as reciprocate that kiss? Scrunching up her face, closing her eyes, she bit out a tiny "I'm sorry," not daring to open her eyes again. Oh gosh, she didn't want to see his face now, didn't want to see his expression. (Surprise? Anger? Or worse, amusement?) Taking a peek out of one eye eventually, she was surprised to see him leaning his head forward a little, before he gently moved to raise her chin with his uninjured arm, forcing her to look up at him again. It felt like that moment lasted forever, and yet it all happened in no more than a few split seconds before she finally felt Nathan's lips on hers again, felt their soft touch. And finally, she gave in to his forays, which she had initiated in the first place... Opening her mouth, she gently nipped his lower lip before allowing his tongue into the warm cavity of her mouth and…

"Oh my God, I'm… so sorry!" the two suddenly heard someone blurt out in obvious shock behind them. With a jolt they broke free of each other, startled. Exchanging one sheepish look, they turned to face the intruder.

"Luke!" Haley gasped, sounding strangely out of breath to her own ears. She wasn't pleased to have been interrupted by her best friend. Worse, though, was the fact that she felt terribly guilty all of a sudden. After all, Lucas had just found her kissing his half-brother. And even though she knew that much had changed since the accident and both guys might be able to tolerate each other's presence these days, she also knew that they weren't exactly friends, either—not to mention real brothers…

"Ah, well, I… I was just checking whether Nate is alright. Guess he is, so…," Luke improvised. Admittedly, he had been caught a little off guard by what he had run in there. Haley kissing Nathan… He had to let that sink in. "I better be going… Haley."

Awkward.

"Yeah," Nathan agreed, "I should be going, too…"

"Wait! You two!" Haley suddenly shouted, making both boys stop instantly. "Okay, now I know this was awkward, but… Lucas, I…"

"It's okay, Haley," he muttered. He wondered what it was that made him feel so angry all of a sudden, an anger he desperately tried to keep in check as he could do without causing a scene in the middle of the hallway. To his surprise Haley snapped, "Yes, I know it is."

Haley had felt guilty before, but Lucas's condescending tone enraged her somewhat. Therefore, she didn't continue the way she had intended to, and rather asked, "You came to check on Nathan?" She scrutinized her friend's face thoroughly, trying to see past his mask. She was acutely aware of Nate's presence at her side, so much in fact, that she noticed him getting strangely nervous and starting to fidget, all that without even having to look at him.

"Yeah," Lucas confirmed, raising his head a little in defiance at that air of command in his best friend's attitude.

"Why would you want to check on him?"

"Do I need your permission to worry about my brother now?"

"So he's your brother all of a sudden?"

Growing more and more uncomfortable around the two friends, Nathan lamely called out, "Guys…"

Haley and Lucas fell quiet.

Lucas internally debated with himself whether it might actually be for the best to let things rest. Still, he knew what he had seen back in the gym, just as he knew what he had seen back in that terrible night. And even if he wanted to, he couldn't for the life of him go back to how things had been before the accident. Thus he couldn't hate Haley for kissing the enemy. Because Nathan no longer was the enemy; and because Lucas didn't despise him any longer. And because Lucas couldn't help worrying about the guy even if he tried. Therefore he eventually made a decision and quietly said, "Nathan. You are all right, right? I mean…"

Nathan stared at him, a heavy frown settling on his features.

"I mean, you coming back to practice so soon—it doesn't have anything to do with Dan making you—"

"Fuck you, Lucas!" his younger brother blurted and rushed out of the building so suddenly that it left both Lucas and Haley startled in his wake.

"Luke, what…"

"Fuck," hissed Lucas and shot a glance up into Haley's worried face before starting to wheel his way out, too.

"Luke. Lucas!"