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

A/N: Hey all. Sorry for the bit of delay on this chapter, but hope you all enjoy it. Thanks to everyone reading this, and you know it, especially to you reviewers. You rock!

…..

Nathan walked back into Brooke's house the next day, not surprised that there were still no signs of life within those walls. He shook his head in amusement and climbed the stairs two at a time, heading to the bedroom—his and Peyton's assigned bedroom when they stayed at Brooke's—and found the blonde still curled up in the comforter, sound asleep.

He hopped on the bed and slipped his arm under the blanket, around her waist.

She didn't so much as stir.

Even when he gently nudged her, she didn't budge. Only when his nudging became more like shaking did she finally groan in complaint, however, her eyes remained tightly shut.

"Wake up," he urged, trailing kisses down her collarbone.

She groaned again but definitely not in a good way. "Not now," she grumbled. Her head pounded painfully and she certainly wasn't up for another round. "I have a headache."

He chuckled at what sounded like a lame excuse but he knew wasn't. "You mean hangover," he murmured in amusement.

"Same difference. Go back to sleep."

"I can't. I'm wide awake."

"Good for you. I'm not. And you know better than to wake me up before noon on a weekend," she said gruffly.

"It's 12:22," he informed her, glancing at his watch. "And it's Wednesday," he added, hovering over her.

"Two then. Give me till two."

"I'll be back at school by then."

"You went to school?" she asked doubtfully.

"Yeah, believe it or not," he replied. "And not only that," he continued. "I jogged home this morning, showered and changed and got Coop to drop me off at the courthouse."

Now she opened her eyes, noticing that he was fully dressed. "Why?"

He answered by dangling her car keys in front of her. "You left your car there."

"Right," she said as she recalled how she'd mindlessly ran from the courthouse when the jury had delivered their verdict. She hadn't thought to go back and get her car. "Thanks."

He shrugged. "And don't worry," he told her. "I took care of the parking ticket too."

"I got a ticket?" she asked incredulously. "It was in the freaking parking lot."

"That doesn't have overnight parking," he explained. "Didn't you see the big ass sign?"

"I must have missed it."

He didn't know how the hell she could have missed it and told her so in amusement.

"I kinda had other things on my mind," she returned flatly. "But thanks for paying it. I owe you one."

"Kay. When do I get to collect?"

"If you're talking money, it'll be a while…"

"You know I'm not talking money."

"I figured. Well then it'll be…well, it'll still be a while. Unless you're interested in a dead lay cuz I have zero energy."

He smiled at her. "I've probably had worse."

"Thanks a lot," she mumbled dryly.

"Not with you."

"Sure."

"No, I'm serious," he continued. "It's always good with you."

She rolled her eyes and flipped back the other way. "Nice save, but being cute is not gonna help you right now."

"Why not? Don't love me anymore?"

"At the moment, less than I love sleep," she said, pulling the blanket over her face to block the sunlight she hadn't even noticed before.

"That hurts, Peyt," he joked. "You could just say you're not in the mood."

"You haven't gotten that picture already?" she asked, her voice coming out muffled through the comforter.

"No, I have," he teased. "Doesn't mean I can't change your mind though. Like I have a million other times."

"Don't even try."

"Why not? Scared Junior and I'll win?" he persisted, pulling her in closer to press up against her.

"No. Scared you'll lose and then get pissed off," she replied. "I love you, Nate, but if you value Junior at all, and I know you do, you'll wanna remove him from the small of my back within the next five seconds."

This only made him chuckle again and press harder against her. "And put him where instead?"

The gesture caught him an elbow to the chest. "Four."

"You realize it'd be just as much a punishment to you as it is me."

"Three."

"Cuz then you're gonna want…"

"Two, one, time is up," she said threateningly.

"Ok, ok," He conceded with a laugh. "What if I just wanna talk?"

"Go ahead, but I'll be snoring," she warned him.

"You're saying I'm boring?"

"Ugh, would you just go do something."

"You don't even snore," he pointed out.

"Fine, I'll be mumbling your name in my sleep. It's one of the things you missed most, remember?"

"I heard it plenty last night," he murmured, ducking under the blanket with her. "Oh, but you weren't asleep."

She sighed in exasperation. He was clearly trying to piss her off. "You won't be hearing it for a long time if you don't back away, like now."

He chuckled. "Empty threats," he whispered cockily in her ear. But when he felt her body turn rigid with anger, he knew it was time to stop. "Ok, ok," he once again conceded, coming out from beneath the comforter. "I'll leave you alone."

"Thank you."

"It's probably for the best anyway. I talked to Whitey today, cuz my dad was all like, 'make sure you get back on the team' when I went home this morning…"

"Figures."

"Yeah. But anyway, Whitey said I can play as long as I catch up on my grades and don't skip any classes."

"Good. You should get going then."

"Trying to get rid of me?"

"What was your first clue?" she deadpanned.

"Funny. I don't know how I'm supposed to catch up though. It was hard enough before, but now…"

"I'm sure Mouth'll help you."

"Yeah, he said he would. But still, he can only do so much, you know. And I'll have to do the rest."

"You can do it."

"I don't know about that. You know me and school. Not exactly your match made in heaven."

She pulled the blanket off her face and sat up. "Nate, you'll be fine," she said with assurance, touching his arm lightly.

He nodded. "I am fine," he told her. "As long as I have you, my friends, the real ones, that is, and my freedom, I don't need anything else. Not even basketball."

"You can have all that and basketball," she said firmly, not so sure how well he'd fare without the sport he held such passion for. "And I'll help you too."

"Thanks."

"Just not right now," she said as her head began to spin uncontrollably.

"Ok," he said, all joking set aside as he took in her pale complexion. Hangovers were a real bitch sometimes. He should know. "I'll let you sleep then."

"I'm sorry," she said regretfully. "I know this is important to you and you want to talk about it, and I do too…"

"It's cool, Peyt. We'll talk later when you're feeling better," he said, letting her know that he was aware that she wasn't just dismissing his feelings.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I should get back anyway. Don't wanna be late," he said sarcastically.

"Take my car."

"I planned to," he replied with a wink. She wasn't going to need it for a while. "Gives me an excuse to come back."

"You don't need an excuse."

He smiled and placed a sweet kiss on her lips. "See you later then?"

She nodded and returned the gesture.

"Need anything on my way back?"

"Tylenol."

"Way ahead of you, babe," he told her, directing her gaze to the night stand beside her where two Tylenols and a bottle of water lay. She smiled gratefully. "Thank you, baby. I love when you take care of me."

"Oh, I could take care of you real good if you'd just let me," he returned suggestively.

She shoved him away from her. "Go to school," she said firmly.

He planted another quick kiss on her before hopping off the bed and heading toward the door.

"Hey," she said as his hand reached for the knob. "You know I love you."

"I know," he said with a smile. "I love you too."

He left the room and leaned up against the door on the other side, sighing as he did so. Without Peyton at his side to support him, his afternoon would suck as much as his morning had. Most students had welcomed him back eagerly; however, with the looks a few people shot him, he had the feeling that some didn't think he deserved to be exonerated.

…

"Suck it up, superstar," Brooke told him cattily when he went downstairs and found her lounging on the couch in her sweats with a bucket of ice cream in front of her. "You've got your freedom and that's all that counts."

"I know," he admitted with a sigh. "And it's not that I'm not glad for it. I just…it sucks that people still think I'm guilty."

"What'd you expect? You knew they would."

"Yeah well, if one more person looks at like I'm the devil in disguise, I'm gonna show them just how evil I can really be."

"Right, cuz beating them up will make them think better of you," she replied snidely.

"Maybe not, but it would make me feel better."

"Not when you're back in jail on another assault charge."

"Which is why I need Peyton there," he answered. "To make sure I don't lose it."

"What you need is self-control, and that's not something anybody, including Peyton, can give you."

His brows creased and his gaze bore into hers, suddenly noticing how short she was being with him. "What's up with you?" he asked.

"Nothing. I'm just saying…"

"It's not what you're saying, Brooke. It's how you're saying it," he explained. "You mad at me or something?"

"Why would I be?"

"You tell me."

She was quiet a while before finally sighing deeply and shaking her head. "Don't worry about it."

"Brooke…"

"I just think you're making too much out of this," she told him. "You just got out of jail, Nate. People are gonna whisper, they're gonna talk; comes with the territory. Do I really have to tell you this?"

"It's different. They think I'm a rapist."

"It's still fresh in their minds, but it'll blow over like everything else does," she said reassuringly. "In the meantime, just focus on the good things, like your fiancé and your friends."

He huffed at that comment. "Like the friend who testified against me? Or the friends who were suddenly MIA while I was in jail?"

"I don't know what was up with Jake, but as for the rest of them, Nate, you were so grumpy, even I almost stopped visiting you."

"But you didn't," he stressed.

She shrugged her shoulders. "I'm a sucker for punishment."

Chuckling at her comment, he glanced up toward the clock, noting he only had ten minutes to get back to his afternoon class. "I got to get going," he said. "I'll be back after school."

"Kay."

"You might wanna find a brush while I'm gone," he teased. "Your hair's definitely seen better days."

"Why, thank you very much!" she huffed. ""You know, when I got out of bed this morning, I thought, hmm, I could use a good insult today."

"You know I'm joking," he said with a laugh. "You look great like you always do."

Her only response was a tight smile.

"You sure you're not mad at me?"

"Did I say I wasn't mad at you?"

"So you are?" he asked to clarify.

"You don't remember anything about yesterday, do you?"

"It's all kind of a blur," he admitted. "Why? What'd I do?"

She shook her head. "Nothing I shouldn't have done myself," she replied.

"Kay…what? I…"

"Don't worry about it, Nate. Just go to school."

"I want to know…"

"Go."

He frowned. "Is everybody trying to get rid of me today?"

"Looks that way."

"Fine," he said with a shrug. "But only because I'm gonna be late and Whitey'll have my ass. But this conversation isn't over."

"If you say so," she said dully.

He turned to leave but she called him back, refusing to let him walk out that door thinking he was alone or that everyone was against him. "You know, just because we're not there with you physically, doesn't mean we're not supporting you, right?"

He nodded and a grin broke out on his face. "I know. Thanks."

"Anytime. Just keep that in mind if you feel like doing something stupid. P. Sawyer couldn't handle it if you were locked up again, so be smart."

He nodded again in thanks and made his way out the door.

It was when he got in Peyton's car that his cell phone vibrated, indicating a new call. He pulled it out of his pocket and glanced at the ID. "Unbelievable," he muttered with a deep frown as he pressed the ignore button. What the hell did she want?

It would be the first of the many calls and texts to come from her. By the first half hour of third period, she'd already texted him five times and called twice more. Irritated by her persistence, he ended up shutting his phone off. The gesture stopped the noise but it didn't keep him from wondering and worrying what she was up to now, and what else she was going to try to pin on him.

He shook his head to clear the unsettling thoughts taking over his mind. He didn't want to think about what would happen if he were falsely accused of yet another crime. Yet he couldn't keep from doing so and the idea plagued him all through class and the next one as well.

It was only once Peyton showed up unexpectedly, mid-way through fourth period, that he was able to concentrate on anything else.

"Miss Sawyer," Mr. Lansky, the English professor, said evenly. "So nice of you to join us. I suppose late is better than not at all. Take your seat," he said, directing the desk he'd assigned her at the beginning of the semester.

Nathan watched her, his eyes silently questioning. She smiled at him but behind the dark sunglasses she wore, he couldn't read her expression.

She took her seat as instructed and reluctantly removed her shades when the teacher ordered her to do so.

Nathan took in her appearance—how her eyes drooped and had dark circles beneath them, how her blonde curls were pulled back in a haphazard ponytail, how she wore no trace of makeup. It seemed she'd gotten out of bed and taken all of two seconds to make herself presentable, and then headed out the door.

She looked gorgeous. How lucky was he?

He returned her smile with a genuine one of his own, but continued to question her arrival with his eyes. She clearly wasn't feeling the best still so why hadn't she just stayed in bed like she'd told him she was going to do?

A simple clearing of the throat by Mr. Lansky brought the students' attention back to the lecture at hand.

Or so it seemed.

Peyton grabbed her phone, hiding it behind her desk, and sent her boyfriend a text, asking if he was okay. He hadn't replied to her two previous ones, forcing her to come to the school to see for herself. She sighed impatiently and waited for him to react.

When he made no move to even check his phone, her suspicions that he'd turned it off were confirmed. She hated when he did that. She knew he only did it when he was avoiding someone, and from experience, she also knew that that someone was usually either his father or herself. More than one argument had erupted between them in the past for just that because she wasn't blind to the two main reasons he tended to avoid her; they'd gotten into an argument and he didn't want to hear her bitch anymore—his words—or he was currently tangled up with some other girl and didn't want to be bothered by his girlfriend's pesty interruptions—her words.

But sitting in class seemingly listening attentively to the teacher's lecture? That never happened. Something was up.

…

"What are you doing here?" he asked at the end of class. "You feeling better?"

"Not really, but a little birdie told me you could use my support today."

He grinned and put his hands on her waist. "That little birdie named Brooke?"

She smiled in return and wound her own arms around his neck. "You guessed it. I got her to drop me off," she told him, her fingers caressing the nape of his neck. "You know, you could have told me that at lunch instead of faking being horny."

"Who said I was faking?" he whispered in her ear, sending pleasant chills down her spine. "You should have stayed in bed, babe," he added when her puffy eyes revealed just how sickly she still felt. "You didn't need to come check on me." He loved that she did, but hell, she was sick. It wasn't a time to worry about him.

"I wanted to," she answered. "You ok?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Better now though," he admitted, making her glad she'd come. While he knew Brooke was right that Peyton could support him without being there, it was still easier when she was right by his side.

"So, I texted you," she said. "You turn your phone off again?"

"Yeah," he answered, his smile instantly fading. He knew that look in her eyes and he knew then why she'd come to the school. It wasn't so much to check how he was doing, but more so to check that he was there—where he said he'd be.

His hands slowly dropped from her waist and he let out a disheartened sigh. "You're never gonna trust me, are you?"

She dropped her hands as well, and bowed her head as she realized he knew what she was thinking without even having to blatantly accuse him of anything. She didn't know how to answer him. She didn't know the answer. And she didn't know how he could expect her to. So she didn't say anything.

Without an answer from her, he fished his phone from his pocket and flipped it open. "I shut it off because of this," he said, holding it up for Peyton's inspection.

Peyton's jaw dropped as she glanced at the screen before her. "Katie? She's conscious?"

"Apparently," he replied. "She's been calling and texting all afternoon."

Her eyes returned to Nathan. "What does she want?"

"I don't know, but I'm not sleeping with her again if that's what you're asking," he said, bitterness seeping through in his voice.

"Hey, don't do that. That's not what I'm asking."

"Right."

"You think that I think you'd go over there and bang her when she's barely conscious?" Peyton scoffed.

"Oh, haven't you heard?" he answered, matching her tone. "I like my girls half out of it. It's less of a fight that way."

"Stop it," she ordered. "You know I don't believe that about you so don't."

"But you believe I'm cheating on you, right? Or that I'm going to?"

She ran a hand over her face and sighed in exasperation. "I don't know, Nathan. We've been through this."

He nodded and reached back into his pocket, pulling out her car keys and holding them out for her to take. "Here. I'll walk home," he said, turning away.

"You're not going to Brooke's?" she asked him.

"Some other time."

"Nathan," she called out, but when he kept walking, she followed him and grabbed him by the arm. "Considering our history, your history, can you reasonably blame me for being a little distrustful?"

"Reasonably, probably not," he acknowledged. "I've betrayed you so many times and I know that. I'm sure it's normal for you to have doubts after everything I've done."

She nodded, glad to see he could acknowledge her reasons, yet at the same time, he was still upset by it. Angry even. "If you know that, then why are you mad?"

He sighed deeply, trying to figure out a way to explain what he was feeling. "Because Peyton," he began, still unsure how to express what was in his heart. "Ever since we got back together this time…I don't know, something's different. It feels like…" He paused a moment, struggling for the right words. "Like we're stronger than before. Like we're finally at the point where nothing can come between us, where I'm not risking everything we have for a quick lay with some girl I don't give two shits about. And I don't even want to." He took another deep breath. "It just feels different to me," he repeated. "And I guess, I don't know, I guess I…I don't understand why you don't feel it too."

He walked away with that, leaving her standing in the middle of the hallway, taking in his words and the tortured, heartfelt way in which he'd spoken them. And a slow smile spread across her face as she realized that her dream was finally coming true.

This time, probably for the first time since their rocky relationship had begun over a year ago, he'd meant everything he'd said.

She could feel it.

And nothing, absolutely nothing, was ever going to come between them again.