Author's note: Again I want to thank everyone who read and especially those who took time to review. Ashtondene, Leijona, Marissa Davis, AngelOfDeath07, coconut16 and my lafonda2977, you guys are great! Any feedback is welcome and appreciated.

The italicized part of the Nathan/Dan interraction at the beginning is an actual scene from the show, as well as all the bold, italicized commentaries. They were also taken from the actual show, with only some slight changes in numbers and names.

I hope you all enjoy this chapter and please review.

Disclaimer: I do not own One Tree Hill or any of its characters.

Nathan entered the gym, his mind set on talking to Peyton before the game, before warm ups even. He was determined to find out if she was angry with him, and if so, why. He'd texted her during last period, but she hadn't replied. Then Brooke, who sat directly in front of him, had tried also. No reply there either. But that didn't mean anything. She could just be nervous to use her phone in class again so soon.

He spotted her immediately, standing with Theresa and Bevin. He started to make his way over to her when his father stopped him, demanding to know where he'd been for three days and why he hadn't answered his phone.

"I forgot to turn my phone on," Nathan told him. "And I told you I was going to Peyton's," he continued defensively.

"Yeah, on Monday. It's now Thursday," Dan pointed out.

Nathan shrugged. "Sorry."

"Did you go to school all week?"

"Yes," Nathan lied easily.

Dan looked at his son suspiciously. "Every day?"

Nathan stared a moment. Did his dad know something? "Why? Did someone say I didn't?"

"No, I'm just making sure. Well?"

"Yeah, I went every day."

"Good."

Dan went on to speak of the upcoming game, giving Nathan his usual before-the-game speech; play aggressively, stay alert, don't pass up any scoring opportunities.

Nathan just nodded as his father advised him.

"It's time to focus now, Nathan. Put everything out of your mind that bothers you. I don't want you thinking about Whitey. I don't want you thinking about your teammates. Let them think about you, son. The other team's thinking about you. And they're scared."

"Ok," Nathan responded, with another nod.

By the time Dan was finished, it was time to get changed for warm ups. He'd have to talk to Peyton after the game.

Commentary

"Basket by Nathan Scott! He really looks sharp out there tonight. And now a steal by the Ravens. They'll go on the offensive. Coach Whitey Durham urges them on. Tim Smith -- he's got Scott! And he hammers it home! He's already got 11 of the Ravens' 14 points tonight. Turn around jumper."

"Well," Keith said to Karen in the stands, "Lucas and Whitey weren't exaggerating."

Karen shook her head. She only hoped that tonight, something would happen that would change the way things had been going for her son. He was so depressed lately. It was heartbreaking to watch. So she'd prayed for something, anything, to turn things around. "They certainly weren't," she fully agreed, once again reminded of Dan. As though reading her mind, the announcer spoke once more.

Nathan Scott! We haven't seen talent like this since his father, Dan, played for Whitey. Here's Scott again -- another one! It's all Nathan Scott!

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It was halftime and the team was gathered in the locker room.

"Is Nathan a one man team here or are the rest of you going to play like you actually know how?" Whitey thundered.

The team grumbled their apologies while Nathan sat silently, appreciating the break. The truth was the Lions were a lot harder to beat than the Tigers or any other team they'd played against so far. Though they didn't have Nathan's remarkable skills, they were nonetheless an incredibly talented bunch of players, and Nathan was finding it both difficult and exhausting trying to single handedly ensure the game didn't get away from them. He was managing but he wasn't sure he could keep it up for the next half without any help. Even Damien West, the guy he counted on most for assistance, was worthless to him tonight. Well, mostly worthless. He did score 3 points. Neither Tim, Tyler nor Luke had scored anything.

The score as it stood at halftime was Lions - 19, Ravens - 16.

Nathan came back with a vengeance, scoring 16 points in the second half. Damien had finally woken up and scored 10 points, Tyler managed 6, Tim 3, and Lucas 2. But despite their efforts, the Lions picked up their game as well, so the Ravens only managed to close the gap from 3 points behind to 2.

The score now stood at Lions – 55, Ravens – 53.

Thirty seconds remained on the clock when Whitey called a time-out. The team huddled together to get the game plan, which was basically to get the ball to Nathan and tie the game up.

On his way back to the court, Nathan overheard some of the guys from the Lion's talking among themselves.

"When I heard there was another Scott on the team, I thought we were toast. But go figure, one's a fucking powerhouse and the other's a damn loser," one of them said.

The others agreed while laughing.

Nathan continued toward the court, that one word in his mind.

Loser.

He'd used that same word countless times to describe Lucas. He and his friends ridiculed and criticized him on a regular basis. So why then, did it bother him to hear someone else do it? He tried to shake off the unfamiliar urge to defend the guy. Why would he want to defend Lucas? He hated him.

Yet the inclination to prove those guys wrong was powerful. He couldn't understand it, and he tried hard to ignore it, but the feeling was stronger than he was.

Nathan, at the basket, ball in hand, 18 seconds to spare. All he had to do was shoot and the game would be tied.

But he didn't do it.

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Lucas had had it. He was frustrated beyond belief, he was stressed, and things weren't getting any better. All afternoon Haley's words had stuck in his mind, rendering him unable to concentrate on any of the lesson he was supposed to be focusing on. Haley was right. He was miserable. He was playing horribly, Nathan wanted nothing to with him, and he couldn't take it any longer. All he was doing was humiliating himself on the court. He wasn't proving how well he could play; he didn't impress his brother in the least.

By the end of the day, he'd come to a painful decision. If there was no improvement in him this upcoming game, then he'd just accept that he didn't have what it takes and quit.

One lousy basket in four quarters both confirmed and finalized his decision. That and Nathan's constant ribbing. Obviously he wasn't good enough to be on the team and Nathan had known it from the start, never failing to confront him with a snide comment about his lack of skill.

'Uncle Keith was wrong,' Lucas thought. 'I'm not talented. I suck, just like Nathan and the others keep saying. I don't belong here.'

His mind made up, Lucas stood behind the 3-point line, confident that Nathan would sink the basket and tie the game up.

But he didn't do it.

Commentary

"So, a quick time out and the Ravens take to the court, their undefeated record at stake, 18 seconds left on the clock. They need a basket to tie, or a 3-pointer for the win. Jenkins to the inbound finds Tim Smith out top. We're under 10 seconds now. Smith dumps it down to Nathan Scott, and he's double teamed, but he forces up a 7-footer. It kicks off the heel of the rim. Tyler Jenkins, though with an offensive rebound, back to Scott, he's going for the tie, no, he throws it out, with under 5 seconds on the clock, to Lucas Scott, he is behind the 3-point line. The Ravens are going to win or lose it right here."

Lucas caught the ball. He had no time to think, just shoot. Realizing only after what had happened, Lucas watched the ball apprehensively. If he missed that shot, like he seemed to be mostly doing these days, then he'd be directly responsible for the Raven's first loss of the season. Among everything else, Lucas didn't think he could handle that kind of defeat.

And then it came. That beautiful, incredible swish sound, the one that indicated the ball had gone through the hoop.

The Ravens and the spectators cheered in victory, but Lucas stood in shocked silence. A few of the players came over to congratulate him with a pat on the arm and a 'nice shot' comment before heading to the showers.

Soon Karen, Keith, Haley, Mouth, Skills, Jimmy, Junk, and Fergie made their way to him. Each one hugged him triumphantly, but he remained speechless.

"So, how does it feel to make the game winning shot?" Haley asked him smiling. Out of all of them she was the one who knew the least about basketball, but even she knew the basics.

A slow smile spread across Luke's face and finally he found his voice. "Like I just won a million bucks," he admitted. "I don't know why Nathan did that though," he added, clearly still stunned over his brother's actions.

"I'm guessing to win the game," Keith answered reasonably.

"The way I've been playing, he passes to me to win? I don't buy it," Lucas stated doubtfully. "He probably thought I'd miss."

"Why throw it to you then, if he thought that?" Haley asked.

"Why else?" Lucas answered bitterly. "To humiliate me."

He was convinced of that reason, so when Nathan passed by toward the locker room, Lucas turned to him and spat out resentfully. "Nice try."

Nathan didn't even stop, but replied just as harshly. "You're welcome."

"What, you expect me to thank you?"

Now he did stop. "Well you did just beat your pathetic scoring average because of me, so yeah, I think a little gratitude might be appropriate," he mocked.

This only made Lucas angrier. "I know your plan was for me to miss and be humiliated in front of everyone, but it didn't work, did it?"

Nathan laughed. "Dude, you don't need my help to humiliate yourself; you do a pretty good job of that on your own."

"But that would have been the ultimate disgrace, wouldn't it? To miss the game winning shot!"

"Well, I don't know if I'd call it a disgrace, since I've actually missed the last shot a few times myself, but now that you mention it, it would have been pretty embarrassing…"

"Now that I mention it, bullshit! It was your plan all along."

Nathan smirked at him. "To play my ass off all game, make sure we were 2 points behind, just so that, at the end, I could make sure you blew our chance to win?" he asked in disbelief. "Whatever, man," he added with a careless shrug, before starting to walk away again.

"Why then?" Lucas asked the retreating figure, realizing now just how unlikely his accusation was. "You had the ball, you were right there. You could have easily tied it up."

Nathan turned around once more. "I didn't want to play that hard just to end the game in a tie. I wanted the win."

"So why me? You know I've been playing like crap. Why risk losing?"

Nathan rolled his eyes and sighed. "I knew you'd make the shot, ok?" he answered irritably.

"How?"

"What is this, twenty questions?" Damn this interrogation! He didn't want to explain, didn't want to admit that he knew Lucas's capabilities on the court. But Lucas was pushing the issue, leaving him no choice.

Luke just stared silently, waiting for an answer. Finally it came.

"Because you didn't have time to stress about it," Nathan told him. "Look," he continued when Lucas just stared blankly, "the reason you keep choking is because you over think and worry about everything. Just lighten up, man and you'll play a lot better."

Lucas nodded and Nathan could see he wanted to say more, but Nathan had no intention of confessing anything else, so he walked away without another word. He did, however, turn around again when Lucas called his name.

"Thanks," Lucas said genuinely.

Nathan simply nodded and went on his way, his mind a mass of jumbled emotions, confusion, and dread. First he'd surprised himself with a senseless urge to defend his sworn enemy, and then he'd given up a scoring opportunity for him; so there was that to deal with and try to figure out. Then there was his dad. He dreaded his father's wrath, but it was sure to come. And, of course there was Peyton. He wasn't sure how his talk with her would go at all. His mind raced with all of these thoughts as the water, almost scalding, the way he liked his shower, poured over his body, releaving his aching muscles, but doing little, if anything at all, to ease his mind.

Lucas, on the other hand, couldn't be happier. For the first time, his brother had given him words of encouragement and some solid advice. He'd even shown a confidence in him that Lucas hadn't yet demonstrated he was capable of doing. He looked at his mother, who could practically read his thoughts. Even though he'd still played horribly, things were looking up, and he somehow knew that the next game there would be a definite, noticeable improvement in him. "You hear that?" he asked her. "He knew I'd make it."

Karen nodded, her heart full. Her prayer had been answered. Her son was smiling. It hadn't taken much; just his brother's recognition as an able player. She hugged her son tightly.

"Hey, we all knew you could do it," Mouth said. "It was just a matter of time before Nathan figured it out too."

"Thanks guys," Luke said when everyone, except Haley, who was busy watching Nathan walk away, agreed.

Lucas gave her a look. "Earth to Haley."

Only after Nathan had disappeared did she turn her attention back to the group. She noticed them all staring at her. "What?"

"Girl, don't tell me you're crushing on Nathan like all them other girls in school," Skills said.

"I'm not crushing on him. I don't even know him."

"Hey, that ain't never stopped Luke from crushing on Peyton."

"Well, I'm not Luke. Besides, from what I do know of Nathan, I don't like," Haley stated.

"Ok," Jimmy Edwards said teasingly. "Then why were you staring at him?"

"Because, even though he's a jerk, he's not too shabby to look at," Haley answered simply, causing everyone to laugh at her.

"Right, he's not too shabby," Mouth teased.

"Oh alright. The guy's hot, ok," she admitted in mock frustration.

They all began teasing her mercilessly. "Ok," Haley said jokingly but sternly. "Enough already. I was just looking at him. Luke, go take a shower. You stink."

He laughed and headed to the showers.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––

When Nathan came out of the locker room, freshly showered, he searched for Peyton. He didn't find her, but again, his father found him.

"Was I talking to myself earlier?" That was Dan's first question. Several more followed.

"No."

"Whitey put you up to that?"

"No, I just did it."

"Why would you be that stupid?"

"I just figured it's better to win than tie."

"So you pass to a kid who can barely make a shot at the best of times? I think that's your dumbest move yet."

"He made the shot, didn't he?"

"He made a lucky shot, Nathan, that's all. It could have cost you the game."

Nathan shrugged. "But it didn't."

"You passed up a chance to score," Dan continued. "What have I told you about that?"

"Don't do it," Nathan replied with a sigh.

"Yes, exactly. And so what do you go and do?"

"Dad, I scored 29 points off a freaking great team."

"It could have been 31," Dan remarked dryly. "It should have been 31."

Nathan sighed again. "I'm sorry."

"Are you?"

"Yeah. It won't happen again. Ok?"

"Good. I'm just looking out for you, Nathan. You know that, right?"

Nathan nodded.

"Ok, now let's go home," Dan said.

"I actually have plans with Peyton," Nathan told him.

"Do you? Then how come I saw her leave with one of the other cheerleaders?"

"She left?" Nathan asked, clearly surprised.

"Yeah, about ten minutes ago."

Nathan frowned. Why would she just leave? They had come to school together and were supposed to leave together. How the hell was he was supposed to talk to her when she wasn't around? Obviously she was mad at him, for what he didn't know. He'd just have to go to her house and find out.

"Ok, well, I got to go, Dad."

"She's got you by the balls, doesn't she?"

"What? No. What do you mean?"

"I mean she's the one who left, but you're about to go chase after her to see what you did wrong."

"She's my girlfriend, Dad. She's mad at me for some reason and I want to know why."

"Ok. Just as long as you realize that she'll expect you to already know why."

"Why do you say that?"

"Women are all the same. They expect men to be mind readers."

Nathan smiled as he recalled a few times when he and Peyton had argued over just that. She was the only serious girlfriend he'd ever had, or wanted, so he could only base his experience on her. "They're all like that?" he asked.

"Pretty much," Dan answered. "You want some advice from the old man?"

Nathan considered his parents' relationship before shaking his head. "No, I'm good," he assured his father.

"Yeah, you probably wouldn't listen anyway," Dan, said smirking. "Like with everything else I tell you."

Nathan smiled. His dad wasn't freaking out like he'd thought he would. He must be in a good mood.

"Just let me say this one thing; whatever you do, don't start the conversation with some lame joke," Dan advised anyway. "Trust me, it will only make it worse."

Nathan just nodded. Let him think he was considering the advice.

"Regardless of what happens between the two of you, you come home tonight," Dan ordered. "No later than midnight."

Nathan nodded once more before his father walked away.

After Dan left, Whitey came up to speak to him. 'Am I ever gonna get out of here?' Nathan wondered.

"That was really something what you did tonight," Whitey told him. "I couldn't be more proud of you."

"Yeah? My dad thinks it was my dumbest move ever."

"Well, it wasn't your brightest idea, considering the circumstances, but I've seen you pull much more foolish stunts," Whitey said with a smile.

"Why does everyone think it was dumb? It gave us the win."

"Now I didn't say it was dumb. Nathan, let me tell you something; being a great athlete is not only about playing well, but also knowing how to follow your instincts. And you, son, are a great athlete."

"Thanks, Coach."

"You had a gut feeling your brother would make that shot, so you took the chance. There's nothing negative I can say about that."

Nathan tensed at his coach's words. "He's not my brother. Stop calling him that."

Whitey just clapped him on the back and left without another word.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––

When Nathan arrived at Peyton's house, she was already on her knees, scrubbing the inside of the oven. He stood in the doorway for a few seconds, watching her. He could have begun the conversation a million different ways, but instead he went for humor, that lame joke his father had advised him against. It was Peyton, afterall. She had a great sense of humor.

"Hey, since you're on your knees already…" he flirted suggestively.