I had originally written a longer chapter and that is still coming it was just all taking me so much longer than I had anticipated so I wanted to at least put this up and post the final chapter soon. I didn't want to rush the last part because I want it to stay true to my vision I have in my head for it. So, here it is :)

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Keep running. Just keep running.

He had recited these words over and over in his mind for the duration of his longer than usual run. Normally, he detested every second spent running. He had always preferred working out on the basketball courts as opposed to the monotony of running. As he rounded the corner on the homestretch of his run, he secretly wished he could run forever; run from his thoughts, run from his problems, run from her.

Stopping on his front lawn, he panted breathlessly resting his hands against his knees trying to catch any semblance of a breath. His eyes wandered to his door and he knew that no matter how far he ran he would never be able to escape her. His black door stared back at him almost mockingly. It should have been red. It never should have stopped being red.

You did this for me?

I wasn't ready to lose you yet.

But, he did lose her. And now he didn't know how he could swallow this pill after coming to terms with exactly what his heart was telling him. He lifted his shirt over his face angrily wiping away the sweat before opening the door leading to his bedroom.

He tossed his phone on his bed ripping his iPod ear buds out of his ears, and just as he turned his head he leapt back in fear.

"Jesus!"

"You'd think after all the Tree Hill psychopaths you'd learn to lock your door." She mused aloud never letting his fear break her demeanor. He clenched his chest still fighting the after effect of how badly she scared him. The fear resolved itself almost instantaneously as it was countered by an intense curiosity to learn of exactly why she was here. She sat at his desk with her hands cradling a stack of papers which he immediately recognized.

"Brooke, what are you doing here?"

She uncrosses her legs and gracefully pushes herself away from the confines of his desk. He can see a fire ignite in her eyes, and he stands back waiting for her to talk. In all this time, he had done most of the talking. He wanted to listen. He never wanted to stop listening.

"I thought I knew what my heart wanted, and instead I found out exactly what it needed. In a world of black and white, I got to experience red. And this is all I can see as I look back. As my story comes to a close, I know that I am on a path that may keep us apart for a while. I just can't help but to believe and hope and pray that our path will converge again though. The greatest story of my life was and always will be Brooke Davis."

She stopped closing the pages of the manuscript before slamming it into his chest.

"Why did you write that?"

"Brooke, what do you me-…."

"Why did you write that? Why did you write it and then publish something else? I want to know why."

Her arms cross defiantly and he almost wants to hold off answering just so that he can stare at her. She was here; not California. She was standing before him, and she was absolutely beautiful.

"I started writing it going into junior year. It started off with me looking on the outside in. I started writing a story, and all the sudden it became my story. It was my life unfolding itself right in front of me on paper. The words couldn't lie, ya know? It wasn't fiction. It just was. What I gave you was what I wrote. No edits. It was everything I wrote. It may have started off about Peyton and this life that I thought I wanted, but it became the story of exactly what I needed. Those words were my heart."

He stopped looking down ashamed. He knew he had compromised the heart and soul of his writing to satisfy those around him.

"When you broke up with me, I lost any shred of a direction. I was lost. The only way I knew how to counter any of it was to forget about everything I felt. So, I did. When Peyton and I got together that night, I knew I needed to forge a new story. Writing had always been my truth, so I tried to write the life that I needed to be true. I started writing the life that I envisioned her and I having; the perfect story of the soul mates that found their way back to each other and knew nothing could stand in their way." He said the last sentence in a mocking fashion. "My mom is the only one to ever see both versions."

She's silent for a long while just standing there absorbing everything he had just said.

"I didn't tell you about Peyton telling me she was in love with you the night of the rehearsal dinner because I didn't think it would matter. I was scared that it would make me lose you even faster. And I didn't want it to be about that. I didn't want you to stay with me because you felt bad. I needed you to figure it all out for yourself. And when you walked away that night of the state championship game, it seemed like you made that choice."

He can see in her features that talking about that night was a sore spot for her.

"But this…" She gestures to the papers in his hands. "This made me see that maybe it would have mattered."

His pulse is pounding so hard that he can almost physically hear it. He grips the book in his hands before throwing it on his bed and taking a step towards her.

"I just packed up my entire house and drove to the airport, and somehow find myself standing here." She laughs through her own tears. "And why, Luke? Maybe it matters, but are we just kidding ourselves here? How could this even work?"

"Because love doesn't hurt." He says without thinking twice about his answer. "Sure, sometimes you love someone so much that even the prospect of losing them hurts. But, love… love doesn't hurt. Haley told me once that the romantic notion that all the garbage and pain is healing and beautiful and poetic is actually bullshit. Love trumps all of that. I never once forgot that. Peyton and I hurt. We hurt others to try to achieve our love. We hurt each other. Once I knew that I was in love with you, it only hurt when I felt you slipping away. It hurt when I couldn't call you mine. I know this can work because love doesn't hurt. It lifts you up. It makes you better people. It makes you believe. It makes you feel. With Peyton, I fell in love with the idea of something. Because of that, I felt with my mind. But you… I can feel how much I love in my damn bones. Every inch of me I can feel you. That's how I know it can work."

"God, this is just…" She buries her fingers in her hair breaking their gaze. He knows she needs a push. He knows she's just as scared as he is.

"Brooke, why are you here? Because you didn't leave the airport to ask me why I wrote this book. It matters. This all matters. Every single thing that's happened in the last seven years mattered. It's led us right here. I know why I'm here. Once you figure out the difference between want and need and love, you realize that there's just no difference at all. I want to need you, and I need to want you. I love you. I might have fucked that up so deeply in the past, and I might have crushed any trust you have at all in me. But, I love you. My heart caught up to my mind, and I don't think anymore. I just know. I know why I'm here. Why are you here, Brooke?"

He knows his questions are redundant and maybe he sounds like a bumbling idiot right now. The moment felt ethereal and he was surprised he was able to even form a complete sentence.

She shrugs pensively before moving her hair away from her face. For the first time in very long time, he felt like he could see into forever. Sure, he had all kinds of questions, but right now he had an answer. Brooke Davis was standing here, and he's be damned if he let her get away.

"I want to …" She pauses allowing her eyes to meet his. "I want to just give in. I want to see where this takes us. One date. And then another. Some conversations. Well, a lot of conversations. Probably some fights. And then some more. I want to give us the shot that we always deserved but never allowed ourselves to have. It won't be overnight. I need to learn how to be with you again and you need to be patient with me. And even though I know all of this, I want you, Lucas Scott. I really wish I didn't, but I just do."

And it hit him. Here he was as a twenty five year old man reflecting on the fact that it had taken nearly seven in a half years since he met Brooke Davis to get to this exact point. He had gotten to know the intricacies that lied underneath her exterior. He had had her and he had lost her. He had made a choice, a decision of sorts, that losing her was a fate too cruel, a reality he couldn't bear to face, and so he fought for her only to lose her again. He spent the better part of the next five years without her. He had been engaged. And then he had married. He had become a father. And yet here he was, standing in front of Brooke Davis knowing that no matter how hard he tried or whatever road he may travel, he would always wind up back here.

And in wake of this, he found himself choking up and smiling all at the same time. He couldn't catch his breath as the moment seemed to knock the wind out of him. Tears kept flowing from his eyes in spite of the smile that seemed to be taking over his face. And she smiled her gorgeous, dimpled smile and reached out grabbing his arm tenderly.

"If we do this, we have to really do it. We have to let each other in and tell each other things and all the rest of it because I can't lose you again. I wouldn't survive it and…"

She's rambling now, and he finds it endearing. She had always rambled when she was nervous.

"You're not going to lose me, and I'm not going to lose you."

"You promise?" She chokes out as a wave of emotion overtakes her.

"I don't need to promise."

She cocks her head perplexed by his response.

"What? Why?"

"Because people that are meant to be together always find their way in the end."

As electricity jolted through him, he did the one thing his heart, not mind, told him to do. He laced his fingers through her hair and brought her lips towards his kissing her. Pulling apart, he rested his forehead against hers.

"Welcome home, Brooke Davis."