And then there was Paris

by Clavyus

This story assumes the whole nine season canon. Lucas is fifty-one, long divorced, living in Paris. Brooke is recently divorced. They haven't been together since high school, but they have secretly been carrying a torch for each other. Brooke goes to Paris to meet Lucas, and the story follows.

4. Chapter 4

AN: This was supposed to be the last chapter, but I keep adding to it, so I think this is now firm. There will be one last chapter after this one. I'm still writing it, and I'll post it soon. Thank you for the reviews. There is a small part of this chapter that is rated "M". It is clearly marked. Skip it if you don't like descriptions of rough sex. As usual, I don't own anything associated with OTH, and I enjoy subverting their intention, and putting Brucas back together.

Chapter 4

The next day they didn't have to go to the clinic, but they began their morning with a live interview

at a morning show. It was mostly personal stuff, lighthearted and fun, and it ended with a live PG kiss. Next Brooke went by herself to her old offices. She said she wanted to look at some of her old wedding gown designs, maybe get her prototype people working on her dress. She gave Lucas an address at the garment district and told him to go get fitted for his own wedding suit. She said she would inform the tailor what to do, that all Lucas had to do was to stand, be measured and refer all questions to her. They met back at the hotel at the end of the day, went to the gym and had a quiet dinner in their room. That night they couldn't sleep. The clinic was supposed to call in the morning with the number of embryos they had. They ended up at the hotel swimming pool at three in the morning.

"Did you choose the design for your wedding dress, Cheery?"

"I did the basic design in the Summer between junior and senior years. I had to update it, adjusting to current materials and tastes and make a professional sketch for the prototypers. It should be ready to try in a couple of weeks." She laughs softly." I guess I've been planning this wedding for a while now."

"You're amazing."

Brooke dives, touches the bottom of the pool and comes back to the surface, her face three inches from mine. I hold her in place with a hand in her hip. "I don't think I've ever been so nervous in my life, Broody. And I've been through a lot of really, really stressful moments over the years."

Lucas turns her around bringing her back in contact with his chest, and wrapping an arm around her, speaking soft in her ear. "We're together, Pretty Girl. That's amazing by itself. I can't say that I've never been this nervous. You remember both Lily's and Sawyer's birth. Both times I found my faith in life and in the future tested almost beyond my capacity to endure. Just have faith, my love. We will have our baby."

Brooke makes herself small in my arms. "There were too many things in my life I wished for with all my heart that I never got. I want a baby with you. I want it so bad it nearly suffocates me. I guess I'll have to borrow your faith, because I don't have much."

"Quitting your job, selling your home, showing up on my door last week, even those fifteen eggs, these are all huge leaps of faith."

Brooke smiles softly at him. "I may not trust fate, but I do trust you. I guess that will have to do in place of faith for now."

They spend a few minutes in the pool, and head back to their room, and the wait for a phone call.

"Do you see yourself raising a child in France?" Lucas asks.

"A young child in La Jolie Fille? Yes, absolutely. A teenager? No. It would be stifling."

"I agree with you. So, a teenager. Paris, New York or Tree Hill?"

"Hmm. There are no cheerleaders in Paris."

"And a crying shame that is. French girls are sexy . Basketball is pretty bad too."

"So, New York or Tree Hill?"

"Did you like Gossip Girl?"

"Jeez, Broody. Not all life is a TV teenage drama. You make a good point, though. All right, Tree Hill it is. Unless we have a total nerdy klutz like Tutormom."

"Unlikely. Not even Haley has one of those."

After a long silence, Brooke speaks softly. "Luke."

"What is it, pretty girl?"

"There is something I want to ask you, but it's a little delicate. Don't freak out, Ok?"

"Of course." Replies Lucas, freaking out a bit.

"You're the best lover I've ever had."

"Thanks?"

"No, serious. You're skillful, considerate, open-minded and fun."

"But?"

"You're always gentle."

"You want it rough?"

"Sometimes I want you to ravish me. Forget gentle, forget skillful and considerate. Sometimes I just want to be seriously and thoroughly fucked. I want you ripping off my clothes, slapping my ass, calling me dirty names and leaving marks where your hands grab me.."

"Over the years, I've dreamed, sleeping and awake, of doing that. Many times, Brooke."

"And I've dreamed, also sleeping and awake, of you doing it to me many times too. The thing is, tomorrow night, they should implant the embryos, and if it works, you're going to spend a year or more treating me like I'm made of glass. So, if I want a real memory to go with all my fantasies, it better be soon."

"Now?"

"No, not now. After we know."

"We need a safe word."

"That's easy, Broody. My safeword is "no"."

Lucas guffaws. "So obvious. I love the way your mind works." He turns dead serious, and grabs her chin roughly with one hand, turning her face to him. She sees the slight arousal in his eyes, and feels her body responding. He speaks in a near whisper. "Brooke, I was raised by Keith and Karen. But I am also the son of Dan Scott." A slight sliver of fear runs down Brooke's spine, and lights a little fire between her legs. She had never noticed before how alike Lucas and Dan's eyes really were.

She puts her hands in his chest and pushes him away a bit. "Wow."

"Brooke, my love. I'm always gentle because I'm really terrified of this side of myself."

"Do you think you can put a leash on it and take it for a spin? I would really, really like to play with it a bit

"I hope so. Anything for you, Pretty Girl."

The phone call comes right before eight. Brooke answers, listens and thanks the doctor. "It's not so good, but not very bad either. We have four HCM-free viable embryos. The doctor says our best shot for a live birth is to implant all four. He puts our chances at sixty percent." Brooke puts the phone away and exhales. "All right. Take me to our bed and fuck me, Broody. Now."

AN: This following bit is rated M, and rough. Just skip it if you're in doubt.

Lucas picks Brooke up, puts her over his shoulder, facing backwards and carries her towards the bedroom. Along the way he slaps her loudly in the buttocks and speaks in a tightly controlled voice. "Stop squirming, slut."' Brooke is astonished that Lucas barely seems to notice her struggling weight. She squirms, screams and hits his back with closed fists, which earns another stinging slap across her buttocks. He raises his voice a bit. "I said, be quiet bitch.", dropping her roughly on the bed.

Lucas frowns, and his eyes look like ice chips. She thrashes her legs as he pulls her jogger pants and panties down her legs at the same time, in one swift motion. He turns her around, with her legs still tangled in her pants and grabs her hair, pulling it with one hand, as he immobilizes her legs with one of his and gives her another stiff slap in one of her buttocks. This time he is hitting bare skin, and the sting increases threefold. Brooke lets out a sharp yelp, followed by a long moan. "You're going to get it now, little slut. Squirm all you want, I got you now." He alternates stinging slaps with caressing her folds, and the pain turns into a red haze of pleasure.

He lets go of her hair and drops his pants, grabbing her by the hips. She can feel his fingers digging in her flesh as he enters her from behind and she screams his name, as she climaxes. Lucas continues to pound her. "Take this slut, take it all in." He lets go of her hips, long enough to give her a couple more slaps as he pounds her. He steps on her pants, freeing her legs and lifts her, so now she is kneeling on the bed, He grabs her breasts and pulls her up, arching her back. He bites her, at the juncture of her shoulder and neck. Brooke gasps with the sudden pain, and, as he resumes pounding, she comes loudly again. He pounds some more, and gets out, turning her around, and grabbing her again by her hair, pulling her face towards him. "Open you mouth, bitch." He pounds her face, just six or seven times, deep into her throat and removes himself, coming right in her face. With that for an ending, he tosses her on the bed.

End of M rated bit

Brooke lies belly up on the bed, stunned, for a few seconds. "Wow. That was amazing, Luke. Just what the doctor ordered, and more." Intrigued by the silence, she sits up on the bed and sees Lucas kneeling on the floor by the bed, face turned down. "Luke?"

She kneels besides him and pulls his face up. That's when she sees the tears running down his face.

"Luke? Oh my god, love. I'm sorry." She pulls close and embraces him. "I'm sorry, Luke You hated it. You should have stopped..."

"I didn't hate it, Brooke. I enjoyed it. Too much. What the fuck is wrong with me?"

"Sweetheart, there's nothing wrong with you. It's sex. Damn fine, incredibly satisfying sex."

"I can't possibly enjoy hurting you, Brooke."

"Are you blind, Luke? You didn't hurt me. I loved it. I mean, I really fucking adored every second of it. It was exactly what I needed. I think it was exactly what you needed too, if you can get past your fears. After the stress of this baby stuff, we needed the release. I think I'll actually be able to sleep a bit, and so will you." She gives him a teasing smile. "Besides, I'll be sweetly reminded of you every time I sit down during the next week."

Lucas looks up and laughs softly at that. "Your ass gets beautifully red when spanked."

"This is way too intense for every day, Broody, but I know I'll be dreaming of an encore before long. Do you think you can do it?"

"That's the problem. I'm sure I'll be dreaming of an encore too, eventually. Yeah. Give me a year and I'll be dying to get rough with you again." A pause. "What's the program for today?"

"A long nap, brunch, a walk in the park and the clinic at six for the implantation."

"We better get started, then."

"Just come to bed."

Brooke is going crazy. A month of ruthlessly enforced rest, with Lucas hovering around her like an anxious stork. She watched the whole run of Sex and the city and Desperate housewives. She also did sketches for a whole new coutoure line, which she is calling countryside wear. She sent a couple of samples to the people at Brooke Davis Fashion, and they've been literally salivating after it. But no real walking beyond going to the bathroom and back, no shopping, and what's worse. No sex. Sure, Broody has been trying to make it up to her with his fingers and tongue. He is a very talented boy is that respect, but it's really not the same. It's been four weeks since implantation, four weeks of boredom, needles, pills and heart-wrenching anxiety. And today is the moment of truth.

The doctor comes into the exam room reading documents on a tablet. "Ms. Davis, Mr. Scott. I've just received the results from Ms. Davis blood work, and there is no doubt that she is now six weeks pregnant. Congratulations." Both Lucas and Brooke feel like a giant weight has been lifted from their hearts. The doctor continues. "Ms. Davis' hormone levels are fully within norm. Next I am going to do an ultrasound. It's going to be transvaginal, I'll be inserting this probe about three inches into your vaginal canal. Technically, your baby is still an embryo at this stage, and should be about a quarter of an inch long."

Lucas holds Brooke's hand while the doctor inserts the probe and checks the image. For about fifteen minutes, he moves the probe, muttering to himself and making measurements on the indistinct images on the screen. After about fifteen minutes he removes the probe, stretches and turns to Lucas and Brooke with a smile.

"Well, it's all pretty good. First on the list, we have two properly attached embryos in your uterus."

"Twins? Again? Shit. Lucas? Hey! Snap out of it, Broody. This is no joke." Brooke gives him a stiff elbow to the midsection.

Lucas was totally lost, eyes wide open, looking at the wall, a silly grin in his face. When Brooke's elbow connects he gets back to earth and grimaces at Brooke. "Hey, Pretty Girl. That hurt." A pause. "Two babies? I'm sorry, princess. It's good news, no?"

"Well, more or less." Brooke acknowledges with an emerging smile. "It's really tiring and stressful, raising twins, but I guess it's good news."

"They'll be raised in La Jolie Fille, Pretty Girl. There will be a whole staff in residence to help out."

"That's true. Conditions will be a little different than Julian and I by ourselves in Tree Hill..."

The doctor clears his throat. "Well, in in-vitro fertilization, about one quarter of pregnancies result in multiple births, so this is not a big surprise. There is a small increased risk of complications with twins, and yours is already a high-risk pregnancy to begin with. Let me finish the exam and we will discuss the protocol for the rest of your pregnancy."

At one point during the exam, the doctor smiles. "Ah!" He turns a button on the ultrasound machine, and they can hear a fast tip-tap, overlaying a slow thumping. "The slow beat is Ms. Davis heart. The fast one in from one of the embryos. Just a second." He moves the wand around, and turns the button again. Again, the fast tip-tap with the slow thumping. "And here is the heartbeat of the other embryo. This is a very good sign. You can't always hear the heartbeat on the six-week sonogram, but when you can, it means the risk of early miscarriage is nearly zero." He moves the wand around some more, freezes an image on the screen, and places two round circles around two small white features in the image."This is your take-home image. You can see both embryos in this picture."

He presses a button and a hard copy of the image gets printed. "I'll send a digital copy of this picture to you later. Please, Ms. Davis, get dressed, and I'll see you in my office."

Brooke and Lucas stare at the picture for a moment. "Holy shit, Broody. What have we done?"

"Turned or lives upside down? It's going to be a fun ride, Pretty Girl. I can hardly wait to tell people, specially Sawyer."

Brooke makes a little grimace. "I don't know how Jude and Davis are going to take it. This is half their expected inheritance."

"They are good boys, princess. And half a shitload of money is still a shitload of money."

"I hope they see it that way."

"We'll announce it at the wedding?"

"Sure. How do you think Peyton is going to react?"

"Badly. But Sawyer will be there. If she is sober, Peyt will keep it together."

"Well, I just hope she doesn't spoil things."

"All right, mommy. Let's go talk to the doctor."

Lucas would never forget that smile.

They went back to La Jolie Fille that same evening, accompanied by Susan, a pretty thirty-something redhead and a specialist Ob-Gyn nurse whose job was to monitor her hormone levels and accompany the pregnancy closely. Brooke was given permission to resume a more normal lifestyle, including moderate exercise and sex. Lucas rearranged his teaching, so he could keep doing it by going once a week to Paris. It's a three hour fast train ride from Vichy to Paris, so he would leave early in the morning, and come back late at night.

The weather was turning cold, and, by mid-November, the trees had mostly lost their leaves, and the vineyards were dormant. There was quite a bit of activity surrounding the fermentation of their harvest. Brooke was enjoying learning about the whole wine-making process, but morning sickness came in strong after New York, and she couldn't go anywhere near the fermentation vats, without a visit from her previous meal. On the other hand, Susan, Carole and her helpers were bending themselves backwards to feed her and her babies with the healthiest, tastiest food their collective minds could come up with. As a result, even with all the throwing up, Brooke has already gained a few pounds since the beginning of her pregnancy, and needed to let out her wedding dress a bit, even if, at nine weeks, there was no visible bump yet.

The last three weeks had been a whirlwind of preparation for the wedding, including hiring additional staff, setting menus, making all the guestrooms ready, and all the little things even a small wedding like theirs involves. The date for the wedding had leaked to the press, and countless requests to provide media coverage were made, both directly to them, and through the marketing people both at her company and at Lucas publishers. Given how remote and secluded La Jolie Fille was, they didn't fear an invasion of paparazzi, but, at the end, Lucas and Brooke relented and allowed a team from B. Davis magazine to cover the event. They would be coming in the same airplane as their guests, tomorrow night.

Finally, she heard the car horn warning than Lucas was back, and he wasn't alone.

"Hey, Pretty Girl. Look who I found."

"Lydia Bob Scott! I didn't know you were coming today. God, you look gorgeous. Specially in that outfit." Brooke gives Lydia a big hug and a kiss in the cheek.

"Hi, aunt Brooke. Sorry for barging in. I was in Paris already and I met uncle Lucas for dinner today. I decided, kinda last minute, to come down with him."

"Sorry, Pretty Girl. I should have called ahead to warn you."

Lydia is a few months older than the twins. She is a sweet brunette, taller than her mother, and with a softer version of the Scott's blue eyes. She played basketball in high school, but didn't make it to her college team. Top student, she was valedictorian at Tree Hill, majored in biochemistry at MIT and finished a double degree in business and pharmacology two years later. For a month now, she's been interning at the research center of a major drug company outside London. She is also a sharp dresser, and she is using a Brooke Davis green ensemble that fits her like a glove.

Lydia takes the time to look around. "This is quite a place you guys have here. La Jolie Fille? Is it a coincidence that uncle calls you that?"

Brooke and Lucas both laugh. "No sweetie. It's not a coincidence. Your uncle built me a house, actually a palace, without telling me, in the hopes that one day I would come live in it."

"Like in "The Notebook"?"

"Yes."

She looks wistfully at her uncle. "Jeez. I don't think they make boys like you anymore."

"Been kissing some frogs, niece?" Lucas asks.

"You could say that. Sometimes it seems it's all frogs."

"You'll find your prince, sweetie. Not everyone finds hers in high school."

She sighs. "I know. Do you guys mind if I just go to bed? I'm bushed."

"Do you want anything, a snack, a glass of wine or hot chocolate?"

"Thanks, auntie. I wouldn't mind a hot chocolate."

"Ok. Broody, would you show her to the right side attic room? I'll come right up with a cup."

A little later, Brooke and Lucas head to their bedroom. "So, Broody. How was your day?"

"It was nice. I managed to finish another chapter of the book on the way up, and I had a lot of fun chatting with Lydia. At times it felt like I was talking to her mother. What about you?"

"The wedding stuff is all ready. Carole is a genius for organization. The highlight is that I had a two hour video meeting with the President of Brooke Davis Fashion. They are happy to buy my designs in very nice terms. Basically, I get twenty percent of the gross. But they want me at the Paris Fashion Week for the release, which I don't mind, and they really want me on the payroll."

"So you quit as CEO of the whole shindig, and they want you back working for a piece of it."

"I'm not going to get sucked back in, Broody. I can set my own terms, and that's the problem. What do I want? They are willing to do basically anything."

"Hm. You know, in academic circles, there is a position known as the Emeritus Professor. It's usually an older, retired academic, who is still intellectually productive and wants to stay associated with the university, teach and advise students and keep access to university resources. The point is that they receive no salary and they have no formal duties."

"You're suggesting I become a sort of emeritus designer?"

"Well, accept some kind of position at BDFashion, like Chief Designer, without official duties, for, say, one dollar per year in salary. Have them give you royalties for sales based on your designs, say twenty percent on your personal designs, and ten percent on those done under your supervision. Have them create and staff a design studio here in Arfeuilles, where you can go to work when you feel like it. So, no obligations, no administrative burden and the possibility to do the creative work you love in your own rhythm, and train other designers, again at your own rhythm."

"Well, Broody... You're a genius. That sounds about perfect."

"I just want you to myself, but without making you die of boredom. I was actually having a similar conversation with the Belles Lettres department at the University, about, at least for a few years, change my work for the University. My suggestion was to hold, maybe four times a year, a writing internship here at La Jolie Fille, where four or five students would come spend a month living here and writing under my loose supervision. At the end of the program, we would all go to Paris and present a showcase with the results. What do you think?

"I like the idea. It would certainly make life here a little more interesting. I suggest you include in the deal that the students have to do some work on the estate as part of their program. They would probably enjoy it, and the staff won't see them as freeloading interlopers.

"That's an excellent idea." Lucas sighs and looks Brooke in the eyes. "Bed?"

"Do you know I took pole dancing lessons, a few years ago?"

"Really? Fascinating, Cheerie."

"I've been wondering if those posts holding up the canopy in our bed could be used for pole dancing."

Lucas manages to contain his laughter. "You know, I've always wondered about the same thing."

"Shall we find out?"

"I think that's a brilliant idea. You're a genius too, Pretty Girl."

"I'm a girl of many talents."

Next morning started with giving Lydia a tour of the state, which went fine until they got to the wine lab. The oenologist, a smart kid who actually went to the university to learn this stuff, was having a heated discussion with Maurice about something Lucas didn't understand. His little biochemist niece got instantly pulled into the discussion, and also appeared to be openly flirting with the oenologist. After about fifteen minutes standing there without either contributing or learning anything Lucas quits in disgust, and tells Maurice to find someone to finish giving Lydia the tour of the estate when they were done.

Later that morning, Lucas and Brooke go into town to take care of paperwork. First they go to the Mairie for their marriage license.

"So Ms. Davis, after your wedding your name will be Brooke Penelope Davis-Scott?"

Brooke's eyes flash. "Hell, no!"

Lucas looks at her a little surprised. "It's fine if you're keeping your name, Pretty Girl. I understand."

"My name after the wedding, and until I die, will be Brooke Penelope Scott!"

"Thank you."

"I'm the one who has to thank you. I told you. You're my home."

"What marriage regimen are you choosing? A copy of your prenuptial should be included with your file here at the Mairie."

"That is not necessary. We are marrying in full communion."

That surprises the clerk. "Really? That's unusual these days."

"Yes."

"In that case, all I need is your signatures at the bottom of these pages. The priest will give you your marriage certificate after the ceremony tomorrow. Have a nice day, and congratulations."

"Thank you."

It's half past ten at night, and Lucas, Brooke and Lydia, together with half a dozen staff, wait for the arrival of the bus from the airport with the wedding party. As they leave the bus, Lucas and Brooke greet them briefly, and after they are all outside, Lucas addresses them all. "Well, family, welcome to our new home, La Jolie Fille, or, The Pretty Girl. Thank you all for coming. Don't worry about your luggage, the staff will take it to your accommodations. Please, follow me into the house and our living room.

Lucas leads them into the house and into the great living room, which is arranged with a long table with food and drinks, four round six-seater tables and half a dozen sofas and chairs. Even then, it is still a spacious room. There's a fire going in the great fire place.

Again Lucas addresses the group. "I know you are all tired from your trip. Let any of the staff know your name, and they will take you to your accommodations. The couples have been placed in individual rooms on the second floor, and the singles have been split by gender into two large rooms with bunk beds in the attic. There will be food and drinks here in the ballroom, a breakfast buffet will be available tomorrow after seven, lunch at noon, and you can ask anything specific to any of the staff, and the kitchen will be happy to accommodate you. There will no rehearsal by itself, but we are having a formal dinner tomorrow at eight, here in this room. Informal service will continue on Saturday, and the bus will come back to take us to the church at four. The wedding itself will be at five, and the reception will be back here again. The bus will take you to the airport on Sunday at nine. Anything else, just ask. Thank you all."

After the group disperses, Peyton approaches Brooke and Lucas. The years haven't been kind to her. Her skin aged, she is skinny and looks frail. She is well dressed, on a pale yellow ensemble of conservative cut and her eyes still show some or her former sharpness. "So, Luke. You build her a palace."

Lucas smiles at her. "Too much time and money, Peyt."

Brooke intervenes. "Do you like it, PSawyer?"

"Oh, I do. I remember the little farm in France in the list of assets during the divorce. So this was it. When did you buy it?"

"Roughly eighteen years ago. It was just a farm and and a vineyard then. The palace was just a ruin. I used to come here to write."

"You brought Sawyer a couple of times."

"That's right. She's been here before. Last time she was fourteen, and we spent a summer month in one of the cottages where the employees live now. The main house was still in the middle of renovation. She had a cute fling with the son of one of the workers, and spent her whole time here in the clouds. She was also pretty crabby for a few months afterwards, when the boy wouldn't write her back."

Peyton points at the portrait over the fireplace. "That in not a great portrait. I mean, It's technically correct, but it doesn't do you justice."

"You painting, PSawyer?"

"Yeah, I got back into it a month or so ago. I'm still sober, by the way. Hope for good."

"Glad to hear it."

"Well, I am bushed. Congratulations guys, for everything. I'll see you tomorrow."

"G'night Peyt."

Sawyer, who was at a corner talking to Jeff comes by and takes Brooke to a corner, whispering in her ear. "How far along are you?"

Brooke gives her a startled glance. "I'm a child doctor, for crying out loud! I can tell."

"Nine weeks. IVF. Twins. We'll announce it tomorrow."

"Wow. The two of you don't do anything by halves, do you? Did you have frozen eggs? Did you screen for HCM?"

"Yes and yes. We have an OB-GYN nurse here that's accompanying me. She is a redhead in her thirties names Susan, and she is probably asleep."

"Just introduce me later. I want to know details of the protocol. Lily is and her partner are pregnant too, you know? I assume you have the equipment, and I'd like to do an ultrasound in all three of you tomorrow."

"I knew they were thinking about it. Thank you, Beanpole."

"Congratulations, auntie. I'd like to call you mom, but I don't dare, not with mom around."

"Do it in private, if you want. It would make me very happy."

"Wow, finally, some siblings. I promise I'll take the time to get to know them. You'll raise them here?"

"That's the plan."

"It's perfect. I knew this place a bit when I was a child. I dreamed of living here permanently. It's my own picture of paradise. "

"Your father surprised me with it."

"Jesus, I can imagine your reaction."

Brooke smiles mischievously. "You should have seen his reaction when I told him about the eggs, and asked him to have a baby with me."

"You two are the same, aren't you? Crazy romantic dreamers covered in pragmatic varnish. I wish I was more like you two."

"I think you are. More than you think. That's why a girl who looks like a supermodel and has more money than she can spend in a lifetime goes to the trouble of becoming a baby surgeon. Crazy romantic dreamer."

A tear shows up in the corner of Sawyer's eye. "Thanks mom."