-o0o-

Two months later, and nothing much had changed, except for the fact that Lucas had finally been released out of the hospital for a second time that year. It didn't feel quite so thrilling this time, though, Lucas thought as he routinely hoisted himself out of his bed and into the waiting wheelchair—his constant companion these days.

He was so practiced in using it, in doing basically everything in it that in his brighter moments he figured life really could go on even if he'd forever completely rely on it. In his darker moments, though, the ones he had to try and hide from his mom, his friends, and especially from Brooke, who was so careful to always be upbeat and chipper around him—in those very private dark moments, he cursed his bad luck that had landed him in a wheelchair, ruining his life as he knew it.

He cursed himself for having conceded to driving Nathan home all those weeks ago. He cursed Nathan for having been so wasted that it had been necessary in the first place. He cursed Haley, for having begged him with that trade mark pleading look of hers that always got to his very best friend-core.

But more than anything, he had—weirdly—gone on to blame Dan Scott for everything that had happened. Yes, now that he was looking at himself in the mirror of his bathroom, trying for the umpteenth time to detect any resemblance between the face staring back at him and that of his hated father, he wondered how things might have worked out if Dan Scott had been a better man, a better dad.

"Luke, baby, your personal taxi just arrived!" a voice piped up and jolted him out of his musings. He couldn't help a small smile passing across his features that nonetheless remained set in a slight frown even then.

The door to his bathroom was opened from the outside just as he was about to open it himself, and the pretty face of his girlfriend popped in.

"You were not brooding in there again, Lucas Scott, were you?" she scolded, playfully poking an accusing finger into his chest and shaking her head. "No brooding allowed today, remember? It's a very special person's birthday today after all. And she made it very clear that she had only two wishes for that day," Brooke went on, grinning brightly, as she gently lowered herself onto his lap, wrapping her arms around him. "Number one: no brooding." He smirked, before he caught Brooke's lips in a kiss. His hands began traveling underneath her blouse, his broody thoughts already forgotten as he managed to rasp out between kisses, "And number two?"

Before Brooke could answer, he began wheeling both of them out of the bathroom. She stopped their movement by grabbing the doorframe firmly. Getting up she smiled down at him, shaking her head. Luke saw the light catch in her eyes, making them sparkle even more mischievously. "Nuh-uh," she breathed, and with a surprisingly quick and lithe movement she straddled him. She kissed him again, with a force he reciprocated instantly, his passion already getting the better of him even before he was even fully aware of what Brooke's fingers were starting to do farther down...

"Number two is this here, naughty boy," said Brooke, already slightly panting by the time she managed to add, "Wheelchair sex…"

"Um… unh… happy birthday…"

Lucas wasn't able to finish his sentence…

-o0o-

Peyton was angry. She knew she shouldn't be; it was Brooke's birthday and all. Yet, her best friend had promised to give her a ride to school since Peyton's car had suffered that stupid punctured tire the other day.

But no, apparently B. Davis wasn't merely running late. She didn't even answer her freakin' phone so that Peyton had decided to do the unthinkable and walk to school. Granted, it was a long ways away. Very long; but ever since she had set eyes on the crew of geeks and freaks in the school bus, she had decided for herself that yes, maybe she was weird for a cheerleader, but not that weird.

She had tried to get someone else to pick her up of course. But what was it with that cursed day that each and every one of her friends seemed to be too busy doing something else instead of answering her call? She had tried Lucas first. Well, what was she thinking, right? Peyton sure had an idea why he didn't answer his phone…

She had tried Haley—and would never forget Haley's genuinely bewildered reply. "I'm sorry, Peyton, but didn't you know that I also have tutoring lessons before classes start? I'm already at school…" Peyton frowned at the mere thought. Before school? Those were definitely not tutoring lessons with Nate, although, strangely he, too, hadn't picked up his phone. He usually did when she called, well, ever since she was no longer his girlfriend anyway. But she could ask him about that later. If he would be a little less tense than he had been the last couple of days, kind of like back when he and she had still been dating and Haley hadn't yet been an issue…

Finally, after the third idiot honked at her without offering her a ride, she was just dialing Skills's number, when a car pulled up right by her side. She didn't know to who it belonged and at first couldn't even see the driver. Then, he opened the door to the passenger side for her and she inclined her head a little to see who it was.

"Need a ride?" he asked, smiling at her, and she couldn't help but frown in confusion. Why was that guy offering her a ride? Was he even sincere about it, or was this some kind of ruse he and his freakin' friend had planned to get back at her and her friends?

"Paul, is it?"

"Yeah," he said.

"As in, Greg's—the-freakin'-psycho-who-got-my-friends-in-trouble—that Greg's friend Paul?—No, thanks. I think, I'll rather walk." And with that said, she did walk away. Still, she saw how he sucked in a heavy breath and winced as if her words had truly gotten to him.

Sure enough, he wasn't one to give up so quickly. He got his car in gear and not a minute later she found him drive right beside her again, like the poor rejected guy in some stupid 1950's movie. Peyton wouldn't have been surprised if the music issuing out of his car had been some rockabilly tune or other. But it wasn't; The Flaming Lips, she noticed and quickly lowered her head so that he wouldn't see her smile.

"Greg is an ass, I get it," Paul admitted, startling her. "I mean, he didn't used to be…," his voice trailed off. Peyton was irked to find herself feel curiously sorry for the guy. And why was that anyway?

"I mean, I know that, okay? Though I don't understand how the guy I know—knew, could ever lose it so badly over being rejected by that friend of yours, Brooke, right? But, see, I'm not him, alright? I'm not Greg; I'm not gonna try and hit on you or anything and then get out of control if you reject me… um, okay, so maybe I already am, hitting on you I mean. But I could… oh God, please someone make me stop rambling…"

The guy was looking at Peyton so helplessly that she finally took pity on him. "Alright," she blurted out, nearly laughing now. "Alright. Will you just shut up and take me to school already? Geez, what is it with you guys and the art of talking, huh? Usually you're all quiet, but once you do start you can't seem to stop again."

Paul managed a lopsided grin at that and earned a heartfelt laughter from the blonde. She had definitely intimidated this one…

-o0o-

"Please, Luke," Haley was practically begging and Lucas had the weird feeling of an ill-boding déjà vu. "Can you do that for me?"

"Haley," he whined. Though unable to look at her since she was wheeling him to their next class, he knew what look he would have seen on her face. He made a weak attempt to brake, but she ignored it. Too set was she on making him do her this favor. "It's Brooke's birthday," he tried, fondly remembering how Brooke and he had started celebrating it early that morning. Too bad she wasn't there with them now. She would have been more than strong enough to keep him from doing Haley the favor. Lucas already knew he would not be strong enough for that. Already he saw himself doing what she was asking of him. He'd do anything for her, no matter what. Oh Brooke, he thought, as a very unwelcome image of his girlfriend accusingly glaring down at him made his skin prickle uncomfortably.

"I told you I wanted to take Brooke out after school and after all that she's done for me, after all we've been through—"

"I know it's her birthday, Lucas," Haley interrupted him. Suddenly it was she who stopped in her tracks. Rounding his wheelchair, she got down on her knees in front of him in that fashion that made him cringe if anyone other than she did it. Trying to be at eyelevel with the guy in the wheelchair…

"Well, then can't you ask someone else to do it? Like, I don't know, Peyton?"

"Seriously, Luke?"

"Yeah, why? What's wrong with Peyton?"

She huffed angrily, apparently annoyed by how dense he was. "I'd rather go myself than send his ex-girlfriend over there."

It didn't take him long to get that Haley was jealous. He sighed. Brooke would be so disappointed; worse, she would be livid. Nathan had failed to show up for school, on a game Friday. It would be only his second game back on the team and Haley was worried. He got that. The guy had obviously failed to return any calls ever since he and Haley had had a major fight the other night—a fight that, according to her had come completely out of the blue, with him accusing her of treating him like some nutcase whose dad had screwed him over something bad. Admittedly Lucas could see the truth behind that accusation, but he'd shut up about it when Haley told him everything.

After the fight she was obviously reluctant to face her boyfriend. Lucas still didn't think it was his place to step in, though. If Nathan decided to be stupid about it and risk being thrown from the team, so be it. He didn't want to confront his brother about that and risk a fight that would only destroy the progress their slowly developing brotherly relationship had made.

"Well, then why don't you? Drive over there yourself, I mean," he therefore said, trying to steal his way out of it.

"Gosh, Lucas, you're such a…"

"What, Hales? Huh? So you really want me to go over there and see what's keeping Nate—your boyfriend, might I add—from showing up? On Brooke—my girlfriend's!—birthday?"

"But he's your brother…"

"I know he is! Haley." Lucas was getting strangely agitated. Gripping the wheels of his chair in a tight grasp, he wheeled around a little to face her more fully. Her head had drooped and he knew she was close to crying, when he extended a hand to cup her chin. Luckily, not many kids were walking the hallways at the time or they might have been the center of everyone's attention again, like too often in the last couple of months.

"Hales. Haley. Listen, you know Nate and I are trying to get the whole brother-thing under way slowly, right?" He rather felt than saw her nod and took it as his cue to continue. "I don't wanna jeopardize that by butting in when the two of you were having a fight, not when Nate is back with Dan and Deb, and… I just need him to trust me, okay?"

Again, she nodded, this time facing him. Her eyes were brimming with tears, but she was trying hard to keep herself composed. It pained Lucas to see her like that. She looked—frightened. Somewhere in the back of his head it registered with him that she was only mirroring his own expression.

-o0o-

He glared at the man. Of course, just like in some cheap novel the man simply stared back at him. Don't ever force the patient.. Things had come so far that Lucas Scott, son of Karen Roe, had been assigned an appointment with a shrink. Great. And all that because he had been stupid enough to let that one sentence slip…

My life sucks. I could just as well end it now and no one would think it a loss—

He didn't even think he was feeling like that anymore. At least that's what he was trying so hard to make himself believe. If he only continued to tell himself it was true, wouldn't it eventually become true? He was angry. Angry at himself, angry at everyone, and about everything. He didn't need a shrink to tell him it was okay to be angry, or understandable, or whatever the hell else shrinks told you these days.

He just needed it to stop. The pain, the desperation, the feeling that he couldn't change anything. The feeling that he was responsible for everything that went wrong in the lives of others.

Without himself even knowing where it came from, he suddenly blurted out, "You know what I said was a spur of the moment thing, right? I mean, I know why you're here, and I understand it. You have to be thorough about such things I guess."

When he didn't continue, the man, Dr. Everard, gently prodded, "What things, Lucas?"

"Teenagers uttering suicide thoughts," he said bluntly. He wasn't here to kid around, and neither was the doctor. "Listen. I know it was an ungrateful thing to say, especially after surviving a car accident in which others died—and don't give me that look. I'm not having survivor's guilt. I'm not!"

"Okay."

"Anyways. I appreciate your being here and everything. But I'm a survivor, alright? Nothing to worry about. Besides, as a matter of fact I promised my brother something and in order to keep that promise I will have to stay around for a little while longer."

"What promise did you make?"

Lucas smiled but didn't say anything.

What promise did I make? That it would be different, he thought.

He wouldn't tell that man that things were already different. Whitey had seen to that with his false statement about Dan having beaten Greg into a pulp. This time, Dan would surely have to remain in prison for a little while longer than last time around. Lucas was sure of that.

He was sure Nathan would be okay now…

"Lucas?"

Besides, Keith had offered Nathan to stay at his place. His brother would never have to go back to his old home. He would be okay, even if Lucas was not around to make sure of that; there were others who would.

"Well, Lucas, if you're not going to tell me about it, let me tell you a few things, alright?" He looked over at Lucas, who returned his gaze defiantly. He would have liked to just walk out on the psychiatrist, but what with his current situation, it was not an option. And whose fault was that? Exactly.

"Let me tell you something and afterward, you are free to decide whether I should go and stay gone, or whether you would like to see me again. Deal?"

"Deal." Lucas sat up in his bed as much as his leg allowed for it and watched Everard as he began to speak.

"You and your previously estranged half-brother have been in a very traumatizing car accident together. You have been severely injured. You have lost some friends in the accident. During your first stay in the hospital you have had to endure severe abuse by a parent that you have not grown up with. But your brother has grown up with him, with your father, I take it?"

Lucas found himself nodding a confirmation without thinking about it.

"Your basketball coach has confirmed that said father has beaten up a kid at your school seriously enough to land the guy, Greg Anders, in the hospital, where he is currently treated for more than just a broken nose. The boy suffered some severe head injuries…" There, the doctor stopped for a moment, eyeing Lucas warily, making him feel caught red-handed.

"Coach Durham also stated that your father then went on to attack his own sons… who were still not quite healed from the accident. The thing is, the police found traces of the kid's blood on yours and Nathan's hands, but not on Dan Scott's. Can you explain that to me? And can you explain to me why Nathan would have willingly conceded to living with his mom and dad again if anything the coach said about that night was true?"

Lucas's eyes widened at those words but he didn't make a sound. He wouldn't say anything to the man opposite him, because surely he was only telling him lies about Dan and Nathan to make him talk. No way would Nathan live with Dan and Deb again. No way could it be true that Dan didn't have to go to prison.

"And can you explain to me why you did everything to ruin your leg when seemingly nothing happened that warranted you getting out of your wheelchair in the first place?" The doctor sighed, waiting a full minute for Lucas to reply to anything he had said, but facing a wall.

"You and your brother are survivors."

Finally, Lucas felt more than a little annoyed with the man. How dare he poke his finger into the wound like that? Just to make him talk? Did he really think that way Lucas would feel the urge to open up about anything? "You said that already," he eventually hissed. His glare darkened as the doctor's features softened in some anticlimactic reaction.

"Oh? And when did I say that?" he quietly asked. It was then that Lucas started reeling.

"You… you said it," he weakly repeated. He wasn't sure when, though. He couldn't pinpoint the time in their 'conversation' at all.

"Wasn't it actually you who said something about surviving, Lucas, about being a survivor?—Did you know that the victims of domestic violence frequently do refer to themselves as survivors as well?"

"I never suffered from domestic violence."

"Who said I was referring to you?"

Lucas's head shot up at that, something in the doctor's tone making him feel wary, setting him on edge.

"Well, Lucas, it was nice talking to you. It really was. Let me just add one more thing and if you so wish you will be rid of me for the rest of your life."

"Go ahead," Lucas said, though Everard had quite obviously not been waiting for a permission to speak.

"Can you honestly tell me that all of what's been happening has nothing to do with you suffering from survivor's guilt? Getting yourself in trouble, being present when a boy is beaten a hair's breadth from his death, needlessly shredding your injured leg in an attempt to do what exactly? Suddenly looking for an actual relationship with a brother you previously seemed to have hated? —This is nothing to do with survivor's guilt, no?—And, Lucas, I am not merely talking about surviving the car accident here…"

-o0o-

Haley held onto Lucas's arms like her life depended on him. "Please, Luke."

"Hales. I would, okay, really, I would. You know that. But the whole point about Nate and I taking it slowly is the fact that he feels cornered way too easily, not to mention his trust issues, and I need him to trust me when I want to be sure he would tell me if anything was wrong at home," Lucas said and realized that he was trying to convince himself more than anyone else that that was his only reason why he was so reluctant to go. In truth, he simply couldn't force the memories of the night of the accident out of his mind. Haley had pleaded with him exactly like she was doing now, and it had all been because of Nathan.

He knew it was stupid, unreasonable, superstitious even, to think that him going over to the Scott home would result in just another terrible mess.

"Lucas, don't you get it? This is not just about me and Nathan, okay? Yes, I was trying to make myself believe that it was. But not one day goes by that I don't worry for him living in that house. I know Keith managed to get Dan to attend that anger management class. I know that Nathan says Dan and Deb are really making an effort, but I… I just have this bad gut feeling, Luke. Something has to be wrong if he doesn't show up on a game Friday. And it's not because we had that stupid argument. That was probably already a first sign. I should have known then that something was off…"

"I know, Hales," sighed Lucas, running a hand through his hair. He started to feel desperate. On the one hand, he wanted to spend the day with Brooke. Only yesterday had he told the Doc about his great plans for the day, treating Brooke to a nice lunch, afterward taking her to the little cottage by the sea he had rented for the weekend.

He wanted that for her and himself, he wanted it so badly. And the Doc, too, had thought it a good idea. For the first time since Lucas had started seeing him, Everard had actually encouraged him in his enthusiasm, probably rightly noticing that for the first time, Luke hadn't faked it.

He didn't want to be dragged back down. But here was Haley, with every word confirming his dark premonition. He knew he would feel guilty if he didn't go and check on his brother. After all, he had promised him something and was determined to keep that promise. He was determined, even if Nate was currently trying to pretend like he was fine with living with Dan and Deb, something neither Lucas, his mom, Keith, anyone could have prevented, ever since the police had been able to prove that the first part of Whitey's statement had been a lie.

It had been so easy for Dan's lawyers to make it look like all the other accusations, past and present, had been accusations as well.

Lucas dreaded having to have to meet Nate one on one because of that. He dreaded having to face him with the truth standing between them, like the proverbial elephant, and them not mentioning it. Or, maybe even worse, what if they did mention it? It was one of the reasons why so far, the two of them had so successfully avoided having to spend some actual time alone with each other.

Scenes of that day on the beach flashed through his mind.

"Do it for me, Luke. Please. I'm not asking you to blow off whatever you've planned for Brooke, okay? It won't take much longer than half an hour at most, I'm sure. Just drive by, prove me wrong. Make sure that he is only mad at me and the world, and you can be here again in time to take Brooke out to lunch.—I wouldn't ask you if I…"

Sighing, he bent forward just enough to give her a hug. "I know," he whispered, resting his chin on the crown of her hair. "I'll go."

-o0o-

Nathan didn't know what time it was when he opened his eyes to the glaring lights of his bathroom. For a second he didn't even know where he was, or what he was doing there.

Until he remembered.

Slowly, he got up from where he had rested with his head against the bathtub. All the while he was holding onto the tiled surface for support. Wow, he thought. So here they were at it again, Dan and him. He dragged himself over to the sink and winced as he tried to prop himself up with both his hands. Looking down, he noticed blood running down his fingers, coming from somewhere up his arm. Great, just what he had needed. At least it was the other arm this time, he thought, choking down a miserable laugh. Not the one he had injured back in that friggin' accident.

He sighed as he began washing away the blood. He could really use some Advil, too. Then again, the Coach would probably rip his head off for failing to come to classes on a game Friday, anyway. It was kinda funny, come to think of it, that Dan—who cared so much more for him excelling at basketball than Nate himself did—had apparently not taken that into account when he had made his son practice well on into the night. Well, apparently Dan had not still been around to see Nate collapse in the middle of his bathroom, or he might actually have tried something to get him back in shape for the school day.

Not that Nate cared.

Apparently he had managed to fall straight onto that loose cracked tile the plumber had broken last week. Why couldn't he have passed out on his bed anyway? He couldn't even remember what had made him go to the bathroom instead of straight to bed. In fact, he didn't even remember getting inside the house after hours and hours of practicing.

It took him a while to clean the mess up, long enough to be grateful that Dan hadn't been there in the morning to find him and make him go to school. Unfortunately also long enough to still be in the house when he heard his father coming home from work early, probably getting ready for the game tonight.

Nate decided to make a dash out of the door once he heard his father taking his shower, but soon found that he was out of luck in that regard as well.

"Nathan. What are you doing at home? Don't you have classes?"

"Yeah, I…was just on my way back."

Dan shot his son a skeptical look. "Back, huh?"

"No Calculus today, so I figured I'd go home for a brief… you know…;" Dang, Nathan could curse himself and his too slow mind sometimes. He didn't used to be this bad at lying to Dan.

"You weren't thinking of skipping a day of school—on a game Friday, were you, son?"

"No Dad. I just thought I'd go home for lunch today. That's all."

"Are you lying to me?"

"No Dad, I'm not lying.—I don't have time for this now, I really gotta go."

"Is that so?"

"Seriously Dad, cut me some slack, okay? You had me practicing the whole friggin' night, I'm tired. And I have to be there in time for the game, which I hope I won't screw up because I spent my night exhausting myself instead of getting a good night's rest like I should have. Now I really gotta go, so will you just let me get out?"

Dan was standing in the hallway, blocking Nate's way to the entrance. He stared at his son. "I don't appreciate you talking to me like that, son."

He didn't know where it was coming from, what made him snap, but all of a sudden, Nathan felt like screaming and hitting something, and he was angry enough to not back down when Dan grabbed him by the shirt.

"Screw you, Dan! Are you really going to beat the hell out of me? NOW? Remember, it's a game Friday. And besides, even though Whitey's statement was considered a lie, don't you think the authorities are probably keeping a close eye on you—and me?"

"There's no one here now," Dan hissed, effectively stopping Nathan from going anywhere by shoving and pinning him against the wall. "I'm warning you, kid. You better work your ass off on the court tonight for what you just said or I might consider other options."

Nathan tried to hide that Dan was scaring him. He used all his strength to shove Dan away and got his face within an inch of the other's. "Other options, Dad?" he sneered. "Like what? Now that you helped ruining Luke's leg you don't even have another son who could make your dream come true, that a Scott will finally enter the friggin' NBA! Too late for that. So you'll either have to go with me, or bury your stupid dream like you should have done a long time ago, when you were still thinking you might be that Scott! Now let me go!"

The next thing he knew, he was being shoved against the wall again and again and again. Each time he felt a shelf dig deeper and deeper into his back and he couldn't even remember there having been shelves in the hallway in the first place.

He knew he had to do something if he wanted to get out of the house in one piece. He hadn't seen Dan like that in a very long time. The man was in some kind of rage that made it clear to Nathan he wouldn't relent, possibly not even when Nate passed out.

He remembered that he was still holding his bag in one hand and put every ounce of his strength and willpower into yanking it up and hitting the older man with it. Hard, again, and again, even when Dan had finally let go of him and was covering himself against the blows. Even when Dan's knees gave way, Nate was still aiming at his father, hitting him over and over.

Until someone suddenly grabbed his arm and made him stop.

-o0o-

Nathan blinked, trying to free himself, but Lucas didn't let go. With a sideways glance he saw that Dan's face and arms looked bruised all over, blood was dripping from his lips, his nose. But Luke couldn't think about his father now, he had to think about his brother first.

It had taken him forever to enter the stupid house. Since they didn't have a ramp he had been forced to go all the way to the backyard and enter the house from there. Maybe he could have prevented some of this if it hadn't been for that fact. It was too late now.

"Come on man, look at me. Look. At. Me," he heard himself say to the kid in front of him and he couldn't help but be reminded of the state Nate had been in on the day of Greg's attack.

Nathan's chest was heaving, his body completely tense, but finally he held Luke's gaze.

Things will be different, it echoed in Lucas's head and he flinched at the thought.

"He's not gonna get up anytime soon, okay? You're safe."

"He wouldn't stop, Luke. I had to do something. He just wouldn't stop..."

"I know. It's gonna be okay."

"If you had seen that look in his eyes, that look… —He was gonna kill me, Luke, he was..." Nate ran a hand over his face, and Lucas noticed that he was shaking badly.

Clearly, Nathan was in shock. Just as clearly, Lucas had to get control over things, quickly. But he felt so damn shaky himself, and he wasn't quite up to having to deal with all of this. Dan-badly hurt by one of his sons, and the same son who had hurt him so deeply traumatized that Luke didn't know what to do with him.

He had to stay calm for the younger one's sake, he told himself and forced a reassuring tone into his voice when he said, "I want you to follow me to the kitchen and sit down. Can you do that for me?"

Nathan nodded numbly, though he continued staring at the unmoving form of their father. Lucas had to get him to sit down fast. Nate's complexion had turned completely ashen so that he was worried his brother might pass out on him any minute.

"Come on, Nate. Come on, man," he therefore cajoled and eventually succeeded in jolting the other one out of his stupor.

Halfway to the kitchen, Lucas decided it would be safer to make the kid sit down on a couch, where it wouldn't hurt him as much should he still pass out from shock. Stirring him that way, Lucas's gaze fell onto a growing dark spot on the back of his brother's shirt, but he didn't dare ask about it. He didn't really want to know, not when he needed to stay focused.

As Nathan finally slumped down on one of the couches, flinching as his back hit the cushions, Lucas got his cell phone out and out of some weird impulse, dialed Keith's number instead of 911.

Briefly, he noticed the number of his missed calls flashing up on the screen before Keith's number replaced it: 16.

Lucas stared over to where Nathan had reclined even farther into the cushions, digging the palms of his hands into his eyes.

This was Brooke's birthday. And a game Friday.

"Luke, hey…" Keith's voice suddenly chimed into his ears, "Glad you called! I was just…"

No, Lucas thought. Keith wouldn't be glad for very long…

We'll see what's left to come... Thanks for reading up to this point!