-o0o-

"Mrs. Scott, I know the prospects look bleak at most. After the surgery tomorrow afternoon, I'll probably be able to tell you more, though. Until then I suggest you go home and wait. You cannot really do anything for Lucas now anyway. We will simply have to wait how the surgery goes. Afterward, things might already look a little more promising. Besides, of one thing I am sure, even now. Lucas will still be able to walk again. It'll just take him longer now, and we don't know about how well he will be able to use his injured leg. But he will walk again, Mrs. Scott, alright? Mrs. Scott—"

"Roe, it's Roe. Ms. Roe actually," Karen heard herself say. As if that information was of any real importance. But the doctor, a nice woman if maybe a bit young, smiled at her sympathetically before apologizing and continuing with her explanation of what she was about to do with Lucas. Finally, she came to an end.

"Karen felt exhausted, and yet there were more things to come, decisions to be made. She was sure of that. For now, though, she couldn't do anything but wait.

"Ms. Roe?"

Startled, Karen looked up at the woman sitting opposite her and frowned. "Excuse me?" she asked, bewilderment showing on her face.

"I asked you whether you still have any questions, concerning your son's injury or the follow-up surgery tomorrow?"

"Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't—I wasn't… I wasn't paying attention, Dr. Harmon, I'm very sorry, I should—" Eventually, the young doctor took pity on Karen and stopped her from stuttering out more random apologies by saying, "Don't worry about it, Ms. Roe, I understand. Your son being injured, it's a hard time for you, too, isn't it?"

Suddenly, a heartfelt laugh tore its way out of Karen's mouth. She couldn't help it. "A hard time?" she repeated. "You have no idea. Lucas—I thought he would die, when he had that accident… I thought he would die. If it hadn't been for Keith's help, I don't know how I would have survived that time. Coming here every day, begging for him to wake up, and when he finally did he was in so much pain. All the time.—Wouldn't you think someone who survived all that would be a little more careful in the future and would stay away from any sort of fight, anything endangering his fragile health? But no." Karen hadn't realized she was crying until she felt herself choke out an actual sob. From there, it only went downhill. She could no longer shoulder it all, the constant worry, the rising amount of money she had had to put into restoring Lucas's health, and now this. Another surgery was to come, and this young woman, this nice doctor couldn't even assure her that Lucas would ever be able to walk without the help of crutches again—not to mention play basketball. He had made such great progress, she had begun to finally see light at the end of the tunnel. She had been so hopeful that he would be out of the wheelchair in only a few more weeks, that he might even be fit enough to play basketball right at the start of the next season. Now, though, that seemed like the last thing to happen. The last thing. She wanted to be mad at Lucas, because he had been so careless, because what had happened to him today had been nothing but his own fault. Yet when she thought back to the moment the doctor had told them both about the surgery, about how they had to reopen the wound and stabilize the bone from the inside this time, she could only feel sympathy. The devastated look on Luke's face, being told that there wouldn't be any leaving the wheelchair anytime soon this time around, it had broken her heart. He had looked at her and he had looked like that young boy again who was told he couldn't continue playing in Little League since his Dad had taken over the post of Coach for the team and had made it very clear that he didn't want Lucas to stay on the team. His eyes had begged her to make it all good again, make it all go away.

She had had to disappoint him, just like when he was a small child, crying in her arms, begging her to be allowed back on the team, back with his friends. She had disappointed him, had left him lying in that hospital bed, no words of comfort left.

-o0o-

Lucas had turned his face away from Brooke and she knew. She knew it had been he to say he might just as well end his life. It had been Lucas.

"No," she whispered, staring hard at him, waiting until finally he dared peek up into her face again. His eyes, too, were shiny with tears as he began to say, "Brooke, I—"

"No, Lucas, no." Raising an arm in defense she stepped a few feet away. She didn't want to hear anything. There he had saved her only this afternoon. He had saved her because they loved each other, didn't they? They would do anything for each other—she would do anything for him. After that traffic accident she had spent her time waiting at his side, waiting for him to wake up, to get better. She had swallowed down her previous anger at him. It was no more than a bad memory now, one among many. She had stored it away, she had stored the whole awful beach party away in some dark corner of her brain. But suddenly, it all came flooding back to the forefront. Suddenly, all those vivid images flooded her brain and she could only stare at Lucas disappointedly and sad.

"Brooke?" This time it was Haley who addressed her, a look of concern marring her features. She stepped closer to where her friend stood, suppressing the urge to walk over to where Nathan was standing, also looking more than a little lost. Brooke, though, seemed to be the one worse off. Haley frowned at her three friends and felt strangely left out. She had no idea what exactly was the cause for their shared distress for she had only just arrived and whatever had made all of them so upset, someone had said it before she had arrived at Brooke's side.

"Brooke?" she tried again. For lack of a better place she placed the two steaming cups of coffee she was still holding on the little desk beside Luke's bed and gently grabbed the other girl's arm. "What is it?" Brooke looked at her with a lost and heartbroken expression which made Haley's throat go tight with a sudden feeling of dread. What could any one of them have said that had upset the cheerleader so terribly. To Haley's worry, she was even starting to sob for real then. Putting her arms around her in an attempt to comfort her, she queried, "Oh Brooke, sweetie, what—what is it? What—Oh God, is any one of you guys going to tell me what the hell happened?" She looked to the two brothers then, both of which were suddenly staring quite intently anywhere but at her, though she heard Nathan whisper out a barely audible, "Go ask your best friend here…"

Suddenly, Brooke disentangled herself from Haley's embrace and faced her. Dark smudges stained her pretty face, yet she didn't bother to wipe at them, or wipe away the tears running down her flushed cheeks. "He's right. Go ask your best friend!" Turning to look at Lucas, she then added, "Ask him if he ever thought of any one of us when he told Nathan he might just as well end his life—"

"Crap, Brooke, I'm sorry, I was—I didn't—" Lucas tried to butt in, but she ignored him. Haley, though, shot him a glance that told him how shocked she was to hear about his words.

"Ask him if he considered the consequences, for either of us? Ask him if he doesn't know that I love him too much to bear losing him! Ask him! Ask him whether he really thinks being able to walk is more important than having people who need you and love you. Ask him whether he knows what him even considering suicide does to us, to his friends… to…"

"Brooke, please."

"To his brother, to his mom. It would kill your mom, Lucas! It would kill me! Oh God, how can you even say something like that?"

"Brooke! I'm sorry, okay? I wasn't thinking, I was…," Helplessly, Lucas looked from her to Haley, to Nathan, who didn't return his gaze, and back to Brooke. He hadn't thought anyone except for Nate would hear his words. He hadn't really thought at all. Lucas ran both his hands over his face and sighed heavily. He couldn't deal with this now. He couldn't deal with other people's sorrows, not on top of everything else. Not on top of knowing that basketball would probably forever be out of the question after the new surgery he'd have to undergo the next day. Not on top of knowing that that additional surgery could financially ruin his mom, might force her to sell her beloved café, and that he alone was to blame this time. It all was nothing but his fault. And yet, he hadn't really meant those words. Or had he? Lucas flinched as he realized that maybe, just maybe, there was a part of him that had meant what he had said. A part of him had wanted this whole mess to end, the pain, the feeling to have caused too many people too much distress. He wanted to stop having to worry about his mom, and money, and taking all joy out of Brooke's life, and being responsible for her having lost her carefree, happy attitude. He wanted to stop worrying about his future and picturing himself in a wheelchair for years to come. He wanted the fear to be over, and yes, he even wanted to get rid of that still new feeling of being in some screwed sense responsible for Nathan's well-being. He wanted to stop picturing what Dan did to him, wanted to stop feeling like he was making things even worse for Nate.

For all he wanted to do was live, for goodness' sake, he wanted to live and be with Brooke, make love to her again. He wanted to sit with Haley in his mom's café, laughing with her. He wanted to see his mom smile again, and he wanted to finally, finally get along with Nathan more than a mere few hours on end. He wanted Dan out of their lives and just be brothers with Nate, brothers who would hang out and have fun together and eventually find other things to talk about and share than that horrible traffic accident experience…

Eventually Lucas noticed that he was sobbing real hard. His shoulders were shaking and he cursed himself for being such a wreck. It was only when he felt Brooke climb into bed beside him and snuggle up to him, that he finally realized that he might have accidentally said all those things out loud. He couldn't deal with that now, either. He couldn't, and so he simply allowed himself to be held by his girlfriend and listen to assure him that it was alright. Everything was gonna be okay, and—much later—hear her whisper very gently into his ear, "Who says there aren't ways for us to make love now, Lucas Scott?"

He looked up at her then, finally able to smile a small smile again.

-o0o-

Haley and Nathan had left Luke's hospital room a while back to give Brooke and Lucas some privacy. Unsure of what to say or where to go, Nathan found himself standing somewhat lost in the middle of the hallway. He had just decided that it was time for him to get the hell out of that awful place, when Keith suddenly materialized in front of him and Haley.

"There you are!" he called out, sounding curiously exasperated, why, though, Nathan had absolutely no idea. Tiredly, he rubbed his temple absently and fixed his gaze somewhere to the side of his uncle's face. "Uncle Keith," he muttered in acknowledgment, still refusing to look the man in the eyes. He wanted to go home. After that scene with Lucas tearing up like that and saying all those things… Nathan simply felt too tired to deal with anymore such family crap. Haley's unobtrusive presence was all the company he felt capable of coping with now. Keith, though?

"Nathan! I was looking for you, kid! Why the hell is it that Dr. Harmon has to ask Karen of all people, where you might have disappeared to before she had the chance to take a good look at that arm of yours?—Aw, not to mention that nasty bruise on that there temple. Oh, boy, that looks like you got some pretty bad blows to your head."

"I'm fine, Keith," Nathan bit out, flinching away as Keith made to take a closer look at his nephew's discolored face.

"You what?" Haley stared up at him and he couldn't help but think it was unfair how there were two of them now whose unwanted attention he had to fend off. "Gosh, Keith, I thought he was—if I had known you jerk haven't even been in to see a doctor about this, I would have never let you walk around like that!" Haley chided him and he had to smile at her sudden exasperation. "Oh?" he made, his grin broadening, "Since when are we two having a relationship in which you 'make' me do anything besides my homework and other such tutoring stuff?"

"I… it's not, I, of course we are not having any… we," when Haley couldn't think of any real comeback she settled on huffing at him, crossing her arms in front of her and glaring at him. Nathan instinctively bent down to place a light kiss on her forehead in answer, only becoming aware of what he was doing when the vanilla flavor of her shampoo hit his senses and made something stir in him strangely.

"Yeah, yeah. Well, no time for any romantic definitions of your relationship now," Keith butted in, thankfully saving both Nathan and Haley from any possible moment of awkwardness. "Let's get you to the Doc now, Nate." Keith grabbed his younger nephew by the shoulder and made to stir him away with him. Instantly, though, Nathan felt his defenses rise again and shoved Keith away, staring at him somewhat angrily. "Don't touch me. And I don't think I have to do anything you say. You're not my dad!"

Keith's face clouded over in reaction and Nathan cursed inwardly at himself for his stupid slipup. He prepared himself for a few hard words and whatever else was to come. Therefore he was slightly taken aback when his uncle's features softened rather quickly after only a few seconds and he softly said, "No, I'm not. And I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you—"

"I. Was. Not. Scared."

"Nate, it's no shame to admit, I'm sure a man like Dan is sometimes a—"

"I said I wasn't scared! So shut the hell up already and let's go to that friggin' doctor for God's sakes! If that's so friggin' important to you!" With that said, Nathan stormed off as if he had any idea of where he was going. He didn't see Keith and Haley exchange a worried look, just as he didn't hear Haley address Keith in a confidential whisper. "You do know that Dan, that he—I think he beats Nathan up, Keith..."

For a second Keith could only stare at her. Suddenly, a scene of the past came to him, vivid in its details. He could even see himself clean his hands before picking up the receiver of his phone…

-o0o-

When the phone rang, Keith was astonished to hear that it was his nephew calling him; astonished, because it was not Lucas—who was calling him all the time anyway—but because it was Nathan. Nate and he, though, they didn't exactly do telephone conversations. They didn't even do real conversations all that much.

"Nathan, son. How goes it?"

"Um, sorry to bother you, Uncle Keith, but I was wondering…"

When the boy didn't seem to make any move to complete his sentence, Keith settled on gently prodding him. "Aw, you never bother me, Nate. Just spill it out, what can I do for you?"

"I was… I know you probably wouldn't even want to or have room for it, or, you know…"

"Ask ahead, kiddo, as you're saying, I can't say anything worse than no, right? So why don't you let me hear what this is about and we'll see? That sound good?"

"Um, alright, I… could you ask Dad that you need my help in the shop or something this summer break?"

Keith was a little startled at the sudden rush of words, not so much because of the speed with which he had gotten them out but because of what he had actually said. He wanted to spend the summer over at Keith's place? The whole summer? No basketball, no girls waiting for him, no… nothing?"

A little flustered, his first reaction hence was, "You not going to some basketball training camp this summer? I thought Dan was so intent on helping you—"

"Yeah! Um, never mind. It was just some stupid idea. Pretend I never asked you, okay? Bye, Uncle Keith—"

"Whoa, wait, Nate! It's not—it's not that I wouldn't want you here or that I couldn't really use some help over the summer. It's just… you would have to share a room with your brother since he is coming here, too…"

"Ah, well. Never mind. As I said, stupid idea. Thanks anyway."

"Wait. Nathan…," Keith stalled. It was so very unfortunate how those two simply didn't get along—or wouldn't—because Dan was a stupid sonofabitch who had screwed his favored younger son over something bad. Keith'd always tried to help out there, had tried to ease things between the kids, but at some time even he had been tired of it and given up. Still, something bothered him about Nate's call out of the blue and he did want to give the whole thing a new try if only because Nathan would have never called him if there wasn't something odd going on. "Maybe," he therefore began, but "Nah," Nathan quickly said. "That's alright."

"Next summer maybe?"

"Yeah, sure. Thanks, Keith. Take care."

"You take care, kiddo, you take care…"

Keith suddenly remembered that incident with the phone call, and Nathan's uncharacteristic wish to spend the summer doing anything other than playing ball, taking every chance he got at getting even better at it, further improving his skills.

He should have known something was very off about that. He should have known. But he hadn't.

-o0o-

It hadn't been Keith who had found out the truth that summer. Keith couldn't have known any of what happened that summer. He wasn't the one to get worried when Nathan didn't show up at his place for a party they had planned. He didn't walk over to the Scott's house and broke into it when no one answered the door for way on too long although he knew Nate had to be home. He wasn't the one to call Nathan's name repeatedly, teasingly at first, making fun of the situation, coming up with ever more stupid reasons for him not to have shown up. Keith wasn't the one to fall silent eventually. He wasn't the one who started feeling creepy, uncomfortable.

It hadn't been him who eventually found Nathan in the kitchen, half leaning against the fridge, half lying on the floor, holding a freakin' fork in his fist. He hadn't been the one who couldn't make the kid loosen his grip on that piece of silverware even when he was told there was no one there except for them. No, Keith hadn't been the one who sat down on his hunches right in front of Nate and talked in an endless stream of words. He hadn't been the one to note the blood on the fork's sharp ends. He hadn't been the one to see the choke marks on Nathan's throat, or the blood on his face, the marks on his back, where he had been shoved against the board of a shelf repeatedly. It hadn't been Keith.

It had been Tim. Tim Smith, best friend of Nathan Scott.

And when finally he had gotten his best friend to show some signs of actual life again, when Nathan had emerged back from being nothing but a deeply traumatized, unresponsive kid, Tim had done what his best friend had asked of him. He had kept silent. He hadn't called the cops, or an ambulance, or even someone of the Scott family—not even Nathan's uncle, though that thought had continued to cross his mind occasionally…

…until the day Tim died, and with him any witness to what that one summer had been like for Nathan, that one summer when his mother hadn't been around.

-o0o-