Disclaimer: I do not own One Tree Hill or any of its characters.
A/N: So sorry for the extra long wait this time. Just had some family stuff going on but I won't bore you all with the details. Thanks, as always to all my readers, and especially reviewers. You're all awesome and I hope you all enjoy this chapter. Special thanks to gosal11444 for your concern. It means so much.
...
"I swear if this thing breaks because he's too lazy to get off his drunk ass to answer the door, he's gonna have hell to pay," Brooke muttered as she wriggled her favourite hair clip into the lock. She was determined to talk to Nathan, and if he thought he could just continue to avoid her indefinitely, he had another thing coming.
He may not be able to," Rachel said reasonably. "You heard that thud. He's probably passed out on the floor, in which case we'd be wasting our time trying to reason with him."
"Who said I want to reason with him?" Brooke returned snarkily. "I just want to kick his ass all the way to Peyton's."
"He's no good to her either if he's wasted."
"Well, he'll have to sober up, won't he? I don't care if I have to pour coffee down his throat."
"Yeah, that'll work," the redhead drawled.
"Got any better ideas?"
"Come back tomorrow?"
"No way. If he's drunk now, he'll be drunk then too."
"Then no. I'm good with kicking his ass."
"Thought so."
"We should probably make sure he didn't crack his head open first."
"Yeah, I suppose we could do that," Brooke replied. "Damn it," she mumbled in anger as she struggled with the lock. "This always works in the movies."
"You have to know what you're doing," Rachel said blithely. "It takes a certain expertise."
"Like you could do better?"
"We'd be halfway to Peyton's by now if I was doing it."
"Well then, please, feel free to take over," Brooke said, handing her clip over and watching in horror as her friend bent it ever so slightly. "Oh no," she huffed. "You didn't say you were going to break it."
"You want to get in there or not?"
"Not at the expense of my personal property."
"Small price."
"Easy for you to say."
"Relax, Brooke, it's a hairpiece. You can buy a dozen more tomorrow."
"But see, this particular clip and I have a special connection," Brooke began, making Rachel stop and stare at her.
"Peyton or the hairclip," Rachel asked. "Which is more important?"
"Hey, that's not fair. I don't see you offering yours."
"I'm not wearing one."
"How convenient."
"So again, Peyton, hairclip," Rachel repeated, using both hands to motion someone weighing their options.
"Ugh fine," Brooke snapped. "But if they're sold out by the time I go..."
"I'll take full responsibility," Rachel deadpanned. "So, to be sure, you're saying it's a go?"
"Yes! Just do it before I change my mind."
"Alright, here goes nothing."
Brooke was nothing short of shocked when Rachel managed to maneuver the hair piece just right and got the door to unlock within seconds.
Rachel shrugged at the look the other girl gave her. "I figure I may have been a burglar in a past life."
"You sure about the past part?" Brooke jested, making the redhead shrug once more as she turned the handle and pushed the door open.
"Of course," Brooke said as she spotted Nathan sprawled out on the floor. Rachel's know how on picking locks may have surprised her, but Nathan being passed out cold certainly did not. It made her even angrier at him seeing him there, even though she already suspected it. Instead of being where his girlfriend—make that his fiancé—needed him to be, he was at home drowning his sorrows in a bottle. She shook her head, her fury getting the best of her. "I hope he wakes up with a killer hangover," she spat. "Let's go."
"Just leave him there?" Rachel questioned. It was fine by her but she didn't expect that from Brooke.
"Yeah, why not?" Brooke answered. "If he'd rather have himself a pity party than actually stand by Peyton's side for once, then the hell with him. She deserves better."
Rachel's brows rose. She'd always said that, but Brooke had always defended Nathan, insisting he loved the blonde with everything in him. Not that Rachel didn't believe that also. It was just that, for the longest time and especially now, he had a funny way of showing it. It seemed Brooke was finally starting to see that.
However, she knew Brooke was blinded by rage at the moment and couldn't see past it enough to notice that, for a seasoned drinker like Nathan to have drunk himself into oblivion, something didn't fit. "Doesn't smell like alcohol in here," she pointed out, knowing that Brooke would know as well as she did that the smell would be pungent in the confines of a small space.
"No, it doesn't," Brooke agreed before spotting the bottle of whiskey on the night table. "And this bottle hasn't even been opened," she added, picking it up and inspecting it. It was only then that she noticed the blood splatter on the sheets. "Oh my God! Rach!" she gasped in horror as she glanced back to the floor where Nathan lay. "Is that blood?" she asked of the pool surrounding him.
As Brooke stood frozen, Rachel rushed over to stand above Nathan, crouching down to get a better look. "Get his mom," she ordered when she realized that it was, indeed, blood, and that it still poured from him at an alarming rate.
"Oh God!" Brooke panicked, her hand coming up to her mouth. "Is he...? Please tell me he's not..."
"He's breathing," Rachel said quickly. "Go get his mom," she repeated sternly.
Brooke nodded, suddenly snapping out of her stupor, and rushed over to the top of the stairs. "Mrs. Scott, come quick!" she hollered. "Mrs. Scott!" she said again repeatedly, until she was sure his mother had heard her.
Deb climbed the stairs in a rush, her heart in her throat at the terror she'd heard in Brooke's voice. She ran past the sobbing girl, instinctively knowing there was something wrong with her son.
Her suspicions, however, didn't prepare her for the heap she found on the floor. Her heart raced as, for a moment, she feared she was too late. She thought she might crumble at the very idea. Not her son. Her reason for living. No. She couldn't lose him. "One of you call an ambulance," she managed to say as she dropped to her knees and cradled her boy as best she could.
...
"What do you think?" Dan asked Lucas as he watched the boy read over the back cover of the last of the books he'd brought over.
"Uh, yeah, they all sound great," the blond answered, glancing over at Haley who sat beside him—where she usually was ever since he'd been released from the hospital. He was ever grateful for her loving support as he went back and forth in his mind on how to deal with his biological father.
A part of him wanted to scream at him to stay the hell away, that he'd grown up without him and had managed just fine. The other part desperately wanted to give the man the chance he asked for. Strangely, the latter seemed to be winning. He supposed knowing Dan had tried to fight for joint custody helped. He hadn't just abandoned him without a care like he'd always thought until recently.
Even so, he couldn't do it without Haley's unwavering support. Karen wanted Lucas to make his own decision now that he was older, but she couldn't handle being home for this so she kept the cafe open later. Being around Dan was still difficult for her.
"Not sure which to read first," Luke told his father.
"I suggest this one," he said, lifting one of the books up. "And once you've finished them all, I've got an entire library at home that nobody uses but me," he said. All those books were certainly wasted on his youngest son. He never bothered picking one up. And even Deb rarely ventured into the library when she was home. It would be really great to have someone to share his love of literature with. "You're more than welcome to come take a look."
Lucas nodded. "Thanks," he said. "I might take you up on that."
"Looking forward to it."
An awkward silence followed before Luke asked Dan about Nathan.
"A little rough right now, but he's hanging in there," Dan replied casually.
"Good," Luke said, glad to know it. "Yeah, I just wondered because I haven't seen him at school."
"He hasn't gone back yet," Dan told him. "You have?" he questioned in surprise.
"Yeah, last week."
"You don't think that's rushing it a bit? You had a heart attack. You should be resting."
"The doctor said it was ok," Luke answered. "Besides, I got tired of resting," he added.
"Understood," Dan said with a nod. After his own heart attack last year, he too had grown restless and had itched to get back to work. "If only Nathan was in as much a hurry to get back to his studies." Surely if Lucas could return to school so soon after having a heart attack, there was no excuse for Nathan to be missing.
Luke simply smiled uneasily, not sure how to respond to that. Luckily Dan's phone went off so he didn't have to.
"Excuse me," Dan said, glancing at the ID and sighing in aggravation when he read his wife's name. Hadn't he been clear this morning when he said he'd deal with Nathan when he got home? "Yeah, what is it?" he answered, his annoyance seeping through his tone. "What?" he shrieked, his tone instantly replaced with alarm as he listened to the words spoken on the other end of the line. "Deb, hey, hey, slow down," he said. "Is he ok?...Alright, I'm on my way," he told her, already on his feet and fishing for his keys.
"Something wrong?" Lucas asked.
"Not sure," Dan replied, heading to the door. "Nathan was brought up to hospital by ambulance."
"Why? What happened?" Luke asked, his own concern showing.
"I don't know," Dan answered. "All I know is he's unconscious and bleeding. I have to go," he added, already halfway down the drive.
"Mind if I tag along?" Luke asked.
"If you're ready right now. I'm not waiting," Dan replied.
So Lucas rushed over to the car, barely making it inside before Dan drove off.
...
It felt like forever, but they were there in no time. It took longer to find out where he was. They went to the emergency room but he wasn't there. Dan asked at the front desk and was told Nathan had already been admitted and was directed to the correct area where his son had been taken. In his haste, Dan didn't think to question the area, his concern only that Nathan was okay.
Finally they ran into Deb, who was sitting in the waiting room lounge. Her eyes were puffy and red from crying and she had a cotton ball taped to her arm.
"He's stable," she told her husband.
He sighed in relief and his eyes fell to her arm.
"He needed blood," she answered before he could even ask. "They didn't have his type in supply and since I'm the same..."
"You gave him yours," Dan finished, knowing his son had inherited his wife's rare blood type. He could appreciate the fact that she was home and able to give him hers if it didn't worry him so much. "They screened it first before injecting him with it?"
Deb pursed her lips tightly, knowing he was insinuating she still had a drug problem. "Of course," she said through gritted teeth. "Not that they needed to," she added. "Since I've been clean since that day," she said honestly. Contrary to her husband's belief, following her suicide attempt months ago, she hadn't popped a single pill.
But Dan didn't care about ruffling her feathers. He just wanted to know that his son would be fine. "So you said he's alright?" he questioned.
"No, I said he's stable," she returned snidely. "He's far from ok, Dan. He passed out from loss of blood."
"Well, what happened?" Dan wanted to know. "How did he lose so much blood?"
"He's been cutting himself," Deb answered straightly.
"What do you mean, cutting himself?"
"I mean just that. This wasn't any fluke accident, Dan. He's been deliberately hurting himself."
Dan scoffed at the thought. "I don't believe that. No son of mine would be that stupid."
"I don't want to believe it either, but it's true. And don't call him stupid. He is hurting enough already without you ridiculing him and..." She stopped mid-rant when she noticed Lucas for the first time. He'd clearly come in with Dan but she'd been too preoccupied to notice.
She frowned. Did he really have to bring Lucas with him? The whole reason Dan was ignoring Nathan these days was because of Lucas. Because he wanted to make up for lost time with his eldest son. Now Nathan paid the price for that. "Do you need a doctor?" she asked snarkily when she saw his hand over his chest. He didn't need to be taking another heart attack—Dan's attention needed to be focused on Nathan.
Lucas shook his head. "No, I'm fine," he assured her. "Just shocked," he admitted. Nathan always seemed so together—proud and over confident—not the type to harm himself.
"Yes, we all are," she said.
"Well, I don't buy it," Dan denied again. "It doesn't sound like Nathan. He would never..."
Deb sighed deeply. Dan could rant all he wanted, but the proof would be when he saw Nathan. Then he would have no choice but to believe the truth. It would slap him right in the face. Maybe then he'd agree that there's a problem. She only hoped he would be willing to put pride aside and do what Nathan needed, even if he cursed him out for it.
For her, the most difficult part had been to walk out the room as her son pleaded with her not to leave him there. Dan would have to face that too.
"Where is he? I want to see him," Dan said.
"Brooke and Rachel are in with him. They'll only allow two visitors at a time."
He threw her a look that clearly indicated his rights surpassed those of Brooke or Rachel's. "Where is he, Deb?"
Deb took a deep breath, knowing now was the time to tell him. "There's something you need to know before you see him."
"What now?" he asked impatiently.
She glanced toward Lucas, wishing the kid would disappear somewhere. Nathan would surely oppose discussing such delicate matters in front of the half brother he barely knew and had always despised.
Lucas noted the look and sent her one of his own that clearly stated he wasn't going anywhere until he learned what was going on with his half brother.
Annoyed, Deb turned back to her husband. This was important and it couldn't wait for Lucas to back down. Who knew how long that would take? "They're placing him on a 72-hour suicide watch," she blurted out.
"The hell they are!" Dan exploded. "Don't they need parental consent?"
"I've given it," Deb informed her infuriated husband, crossing her arms over her chest. "And he'll have to do mandatory counselling. As the term suggests, it's mandatory so there's no getting out of it."
"We'll see about that."
"Dan, he needs help," she said softly, wishing he wouldn't be so quick to fight this.
"Treating him like some weak nut case isn't the answer," Dan replied.
"Don't you call him that!" she raged.
"I'm not," Dan argued. "You are."
"Nobody can be strong all the time, and this is a cry for help if I've ever heard one."
He waved a dismissive hand at her. He wasn't listening to this. There was nothing wrong with his son and no way were they wasting three days of his life trying to prove there was.
...
"Nate...," Brooke choked up as she once again took in the scars on his arms, as well as the restraints used to bind his hands to the bed frame. "What were you thinking? What's going on with you?"
"What's going on is I hate my mom even more than usual,' he grumbled. "Can't believe she's letting them do this. Just wait till my dad gets here. He'll never go for this."
Brooke stared at him hard, not the least bit surprised that he wanted to focus on his resentment toward his mother rather than what he knew she was really asking. He didn't want to talk about the other stuff.
But that was too bad. She wasn't letting him away with shutting her out. Not anymore. "If he's any kind of dad at all," she began, "he'll stand by her on this."
"What?" he huffed. "Keeping me chained to a bed for three days?"
"If that's what it takes to keep you from killing yourself," Rachel piped up snarkily.
"Who asked you?" he returned just as snarky, though he couldn't look at either girl as he said so. "And I didn't try to kill myself," he mumbled defensively. "It was an accident."
Brooke pressed her lips together to keep her from crying. It was nearly impossible. "How was it an accident?" she challenged softly. "Nate, you had to physically pick up the blade, and again physically bring it to your arm, and again physically cut..." She couldn't finish her sentence. It was too difficult to say the words.
He sighed, knowing he had no choice but to explain. "Ok, yeah," he admitted. "But not to kill myself, I swear."
"Then why, Nathan? I don't understand."
"I know you don't," he agreed. How could she? "Because you don't know what it feels like to know that you're a monster."
"You are not..."
"I raped a girl, Brooke," he cut in. "If that doesn't make me a monster, I don't know what does."
She opened and closed her mouth several times before she could form an answer. He'd said this once before, but she'd thought once he'd had some time to let everything sink in, he'd realize how irrational that was. Apparently not. "Damien's the monster, not you. He's the one who spiked Haley's drink."
"I'm the one who had sex with her," he argued.
"Only because you beat him to it," Brooke argued back.
"And you know why?" Nathan said with disgust as though Brooke hadn't spoken. "All so I could stick it to Lucas." His frown deepened as he went on. "Her lawyer was right in court. She got raped because I wanted revenge. Because I had a problem with Lucas that no one could talk me out of no matter how petty and juvenile it was."
"That doesn't make you a rapist, Nate. As far as you knew, she was willing," she told him logically. She soon realized that all the logic in the world wasn't going to help him now.
"You think that justifies what I did?" he asked. "You think Haley feels less violated now that she knows I didn't drug her?"
"I think she..."
"And what about when I confronted her in the tutor center? You think she appreciated me terrorizing her some more?"
His voice broke and both girls could see he was suffocating in his own guilt.
"Nathan, this wasn't your fault," Brooke tried again. "Damien is clearly demented and jealous and..."
"Yeah?" Nathan cut her off. "And how am I any different than him? Huh? All the reasons he gave in the boiler room for what he did—Peyton, basketball—pretty much sounded the same as my reasons."
"Stop it!" Rachel said. "So you screwed up. That doesn't compare to Damien. It doesn't matter how similar your reasons were, the fact is Damien had intent to rape and you didn't. You had no way of knowing she was drugged so why don't you drop this pity me party and think about how much Peyton needs you right now." She wasn't sure if harshness would work, but it certainly couldn't make things any worse than they were right now. "After all she's done for you, and you know how much that is, you'd think, for once, you could do something for her. Instead of supporting her and comforting her like you should be doing, you're too busy feeling sorry for yourself."
"Comforting her?" Nathan returned snidely. "A rapist comforting a rape victim. Yeah, that's rich," he added dully.
"Except Peyton wasn't raped," Brooke said. "Damien was full of crap."
Nathan shook his head. "She was, Brooke."
"No, they did a test that proved she wasn't. It was your sperm they found, Nate. I didn't really believe it when she told me that, but then her parents said the same thing so..."
"Then they lied," he argued. "Because my dad got hold of those results and he was told it was Damien's DNA they found."
"No, that has to be a mistake. Larry and Ellie...and Peyton, she wouldn't outright lie to me."
"Maybe they lied to her too," Rachel reasoned. "She was drugged so she may not remember. Haley doesn't."
"Why would they lie to her?" Brooke wanted to know.
"To protect her," Nathan answered. "Something I apparently wasn't able to do. Hell, I didn't even save her. Lucas and Haley did."
"Ok, don't let this be about a male ego thing," Rachel said sternly. "Peyton needs you, and if it's true that she was raped, now more than ever."
"Peyton needs me to stay away," he countered. "None of this would have happened if it weren't for me. You know as much as I do that I never deserved her."
"Nathan...," Brooke began but suddenly stopped when Dan stormed in, followed closely by Deb.
"Dad," Nathan said with the first sign of hope the girls had heard from him since they'd arrived. "Are you getting me out of here?"
The first thing Dan's eyes fell upon were the binds and he shook his head abhorrently. "Is that really necessary?" he asked his wife. It was bad enough they'd placed his son in the damn psyche ward without chaining him to the bed too.
"It's for his own protection," Deb answered, her eyes boring into his, urging him to look—really look—at their son's injuries.
He did so, but not without flinching just the slightest bit. "What the hell d'you do to yourself?" he asked, flabbergasted.
"Dad, I'm sorry," Nathan replied desperately, still hating to disappoint his father in any way. "It's not as bad as it looks," he tried to say.
"Those marks are on his legs and stomach too," Deb countered. "He needs to be here, Dan."
Nathan threw his mother an ominous glare before turning back to his father and pleading with him to take him home. "I don't want to be here," he added. "Look, I'm sorry, ok? This won't happen again."
There was no way for Dan to know that his son spoke genuinely. No matter how low he felt, this incident had given Nathan enough of a scare that he had vowed to find another way to deal with his problems. Cutting himself just wasn't cutting it.
But again, Dan couldn't know that. All the middle-aged father could see was the damage his son had inflicted upon himself, and he knew his wife was right. The boy needed help. "No, you're right about that," he finally said.
"So I can come home?" Nathan questioned hopefully.
Dan nodded his head. "Sure, son, you can come home," he said. "In three days, depending on what the therapist has to say."
"What! No, Dad, please...you can't just leave me here. I said I won't do it again."
"And I'm making sure you stick to that."
"You don't believe me," Nathan accused.
"I'd like to, Nathan," Dan told him. "But at this point..."
"This is your fault," Nathan shot out, shooting his mother an angry glare. "Dad would never agree to this if it weren't for you."
"That's fine," Deb replied, accepting the blame.
"Just another way to get rid of me, huh?" the teenager continued to rant.
"No, Nate," Deb whispered softly. "I want to help you. One day I hope you'll understand..."
"Fuck that!" he seethed. "I'll never understand how you could stick me in a place like this. What happens if I get an itch? Huh? I can't even scratch it, but what do you care, right?"
"I think an itch is the least of your problems," Deb replied.
Nathan ranted for several more minutes before, finally, Dan signalled everyone out. Nathan refused to see the logic, and clearly that wouldn't be changing in the next little while. "I'll pack you a bag and be back with it in the morning," Dan told him, feeling anything but the calm he portrayed.
Nathan stopped dead in his outburst.
A bag.
That meant going in the closet.
That meant seeing what was in there.
"I don't need a bag," the teenager said.
"Well, I'll pack you one just the same," Dan countered.
"Brooke can do it," Nathan replied, not caring how childish that sounded. If his father saw the noose hanging from his closet ceiling, he'd be in here indefinitely. "She knows where everything is."
"Well, actually, I don't..." Brooke started to deny, until Nathan threw her a look that made her words falter. For whatever reason, he wanted her to be the one to get his stuff so she nodded her head in agreement. "I'll find it," she said.
Nathan nodded almost imperceptibly. "You can all go," he told the others. "I need to talk to Brooke for a second. Plus I know you're all dying to get outta here and, unlike me, you can, so go."
"Nathan, sweetie," Deb pleaded with him. If only he'd understand. "Please just..." She cut herself short when Nathan averted his piercing blue eyes, refusing to look at her and making it abundantly clear that he didn't want to hear what she had to say.
...
"So?" Brooke said once they'd been alone for several minutes and Nathan hadn't uttered a word.
He looked away from her and sighed deeply, silently acknowledging that he was going to have to spill what he'd hoped to keep to himself. At least for the time being.
But he had no choice. As much as he didn't want to, he was going to have to reveal what else besides his duffel bag and clothing she would find in his closet. Certainly better Brooke than his parents.
"You should know something," he began hesitantly. Damn, he really didn't want to tell her.
"Okay, what is it?" she asked.
"First of all, promise you won't freak out."
"Nate..." she started warily, not liking the sound of this already.
"Promise," he repeated.
"Seriously, I cannot be more freaked out than I already am right now," she told him.
"That's what you think," he muttered.
"Okay, out with it," she demanded. "Because stalling isn't going to make me freak out any less."
He sighed again, silently acknowledging that she was right. She would freak out no matter how or when he told her. But he had to do it. It's not like he could go home and tear the noose down before his parents saw it. So he took another deep, strengthening breath and blurted out the fact that he'd hung a rope in his closet.
Her jaw dropped in shock. She was stuck for words. Had she just heard him correctly? She was speechless for a long moment, making him feel even more on edge for having told her.
"It's not what you think," he told her, knowing where her mind would have gone.
She shook her head, stopping any further comment from him as she struggled with his confession. She heard him tell her, more than once, that he hadn't tried to kill himself. He was one of her best friends and she'd always trusted his words.
It was impossible to do so now with his newest revelation, and she felt that any explanation he would give her would only be an excuse.
She had to face reality here.
Like his mother had been, Nathan was suicidal.
"People don't hang a noose on the ceiling for decoration, Nate," she finally said. "Especially not in the closet."
"Brooke..."
"And I'm guessing you're only telling me this so your parents don't find it," she went on. "So I can help you hide this from them and everyone else," she said, tears springing to her eyes. "Well, I'm sorry, Nate, but I can't do that. I don't want to be going to your funeral any time soon so..."
"Good," he cut her off to reply. "Because I don't plan on dying any time soon."
She remained silent, wishing she could believe him.
"Ok, look," he said when she was quiet far too long. "I was thinking about it," he admitted.
"Suicide."
"Yeah."
"Looks like you did more than just think about it."
He nodded in agreement, seeing no point in trying to deny it. "But I'm not now," he said. "When I fell on the floor," he began to explain, "I realized that I'm not ready to die yet. Please, Brooke, you gotta believe me."
"I wish I could."
"Brooke, please," he pleaded again. "My parents will freak out if they find that."
"I'm sure they will," Brooke said. "But I'm not covering this up, Nathan. Not when it's your life at stake."
"I just told you..."
"I know what you told me," she cut him off. "But I don't believe you. So, you can be mad at me if you want, but this is one of the very few things I will not do for you," she stated firmly before bolting out of the room.
As soon as the door shut behind her, she slid down to the floor in uncontrollable sobs, barely able to catch her breath.
Her two best friends were drowning and there was nothing she could do about it.
They needed each other.
But neither was strong enough to reach out.
She looked up when she felt a hand on her shoulder, to find Rachel standing above her. The redhead hadn't gone, but instead had waited for her. She sunk down to Brooke's level and wrapped an arm around her.
...
Meanwhile Lucas sat in the waiting area by himself when he felt a soft hand touch his arm. He looked up through misty eyes and smiled gratefully. "Hales, hey. You didn't have to come," he told her.
She returned his smile with a tiny one of her own, knowing he was trying to be strong. He didn't have to be. She had a feeling he would need her, and by the looks of him, she was right. "I think I did," she said sweetly, taking a seat beside him. "How is he?" she asked. "What happened?"
Irrationally he wondered which question to answer first. He decided on the most important. "He's ok, sort of," he said, recalling Deb's words to Dan.
"Sort of?" she questioned.
"They're keeping him on a 72-hour suicide watch," he informed her. "Apparently he's not doing so well these days."
"Oh wow," she gasped in surprise. The popular jock had always seemed so confident, to the point of arrogant, and in control. At least he used to be. Clearly that was no longer the case, and it made her feel that much guiltier for her part in the hell he'd been through.
"Don't even think about blaming yourself," Lucas ordered, reading her thoughts like a book. "This is nobody's fault but Damien's," he repeated what felt like he'd said a thousand times in the past few weeks.
Haley nodded but he could see her conscience was still reeling. Someday he hoped she would let herself off the hook.
"So did you run into Dan and his wife?" Lucas asked her to change her thought process.
"No. Why? Did they leave?"
Now Lucas nodded. "Few minutes ago. They were pretty upset."
"Yeah, I'm sure," she returned. Of course they'd be upset.
"There's not a whole lot they can do here anyway, especially with Nathan pissed at them for okaying all of this."
"You didn't go with them," Haley mentioned the obvious.
"No. I, uh...I've been debating whether or not to go see him. During the next three days, I don't think they're allowing visitors."
Haley nodded her head in understanding.
"I just don't know if he'd want to see me, you know? I'm not exactly on the top of his friends' list."
"No, you're more. You're his brother," Haley told him.
"We both know he's never wanted to be brothers," Luke came back with.
"In light of recent events, that may have changed."
"Yeah, maybe," he agreed. "Then again, maybe not."
Haley sat silently, rubbing his back, and just listening. Mostly because she didn't know what to say. Should she try to encourage him to go in and see Nathan? Or should she discourage him? It all depended on how Nathan felt about him, and she just wasn't sure.
So she sat there helplessly until she spotted Brooke Davis come out of a room she assumed was Nathan's, and crouch down to the floor, Rachel Gatina at her side instantly. "Luke," she said, and gestured toward the girls when he looked up.
...
"I feel so completely helpless," Brooke cried. "And could I have gone on about that stupid hair clip any longer?" she said with disgust. "Nate could have died waiting for us to get to him, and there I was worried over a little piece of plastic and metal."
"You didn't know," Rachel tried to soothe her.
"I was so pissed at him, but he's really hurting, Rach. He's blaming himself for everything."
Rachel opened her mouth to reply but didn't when Lucas and Haley were suddenly upon them.
"What's wrong?" Lucas asked, crouching down beside Brooke, his face etched with worry. "Is Nathan ok?"
Brooke shook her head. "He's far from ok," she choked. "I don't know what to do."
"Should I get the doctor?" Haley offered, feeling a little helpless herself.
Again Brooke shook her head. A doctor wasn't what Nathan needed most right now.
He needed to be able to help Peyton.
But before that he needed to let go of the guilt pulling him down.
And then an idea struck her. Even in her broken state, it couldn't be more clear to her.
Peyton needed Nathan in order to begin the healing process.
Nathan, however, wasn't in the right frame of mind to be that rock she so desperately needed.
Brooke couldn't fix them this time.
But maybe someone else could.
'You think Haley feels less violated now that she knows I didn't drug her?' she recalled Nathan's words of just a few short moments before. 'And what about when I confronted her in the tutor center? You think she appreciated me terrorizing her some more?'
She slowly stood to her feet to lock eyes with the other brunette.
Who better to quash his guilty conscience than the girl he'd allegedly raped?
"Maybe you could go in there and talk to him?" she asked, desperation in her tone.
...
She shifted on the couch as the memory of her and Nathan took over her dreams. She smiled as she saw him clearly in his driveway shooting hoops.
Peyton's flashback/dream
She let out a cat whistle as he bent to pick up the basketball. Damn, he had a nice ass.
He turned at the sound and gave her a tight smile, turning away immediately after doing so. "What are you doing here? I thought you couldn't make it."
"Change of plans," she said, moving closer.
"Bridal shower get cancelled?"
"No, still going on. Male strippers and all."
"So then?" he questioned pointedly.
"So then," she answered sexily, snaking her arms around his shoulders. "I realized how filthy rich you could be doing that job cuz, seriously, those guys got nothing on my sexy ass boyfriend. In fact, you're a million times hotter than the three of them put together, and they do this for a living."
"I'm already filthy rich," he answered dully, pulling away from her and throwing the ball. It bounced off the rim and he sighed in frustration. "You had a few drinks, I see," he muttered, having smelled the alcohol on her breath, not to mention her unsteady walk toward him.
She giggled at the observation. She'd had way more than a few. "Yeah, that's how bored I was." She wrapped her arms around him again, this time around his torso. "Don't worry, I hailed a cab over."
"Why?"
"Because I've been drinking," she answered in a 'duh' tone.
"No, I mean why did you come?"
"I wanted to see you," she told him. "And I wondered how your dinner went."
"It wasn't my dinner," he returned sourly. "It was a dinner for my grandparents that I had no choice but to be at. And as for how it went," he hissed. "Exactly how I said it would go. With Grandpa hounding me about basketball and Grandma trying her best to make him stop."
"Oh no," she replied. "What'd he say?"
"Same as always. Pretty much that I'm not the player my dad was and how my scoring average proves it."
"Shut up!" she exclaimed, slapping his chest hard. "Your scoring average is like, 30!"
"It's 25," he corrected evenly, rubbing the spot on his chest that she'd slapped. "My dad's was 28 in high school."
"Still, that's so close, and the year's not over, and you have all of senior year."
"It doesn't continue year to year, Peyton," he said with a sneer. "Once the new season starts, so does the scoreboard."
"I know that," she replied. "You'll still make it."
"Yeah."
"I'm sorry your Grandpa's such a jackass."
"Now you're sorry?" he countered begrudgingly. "I told you how he was. I asked you to come to the dinner, but the shower was more important to you," he snapped harshly.
"That's not fair."
"No, you're right, it's not. Especially since this chick is like, what? Bevin's second cousin who you probably never even met until tonight?"
"Nate..."
"But now that the shower was a flop, you're all of a sudden concerned about me."
"It wasn't a flop," she admitted to him. "The shower was awesome and, in fact, is still going strong, and the strippers were actually gorgeous..."
"Great," he muttered sullenly, crossing his arms over his chest. "Just what I wanted to hear on top of everything else."
She sighed, her frustration penetrating her cloudy mind. "But the truth is I wasn't into it," she said. "And that's because I was kicking myself for letting you down just for a girls' night." She unfolded his arms and took his large, calloused fingers into hers. "I should have been here tonight, and I'm sorry that I wasn't."
He didn't respond for the longest time so she went on. "How can I make it up to you? Anything you want."
Finally he smiled a little, and she thought she knew what he'd want.
"Well, there's a farewell breakfast tomorrow," he surprised her by saying.
She nodded vehemently. "You got it. I'll be there," she promised. "Anything I can do right now?" she asked provocatively.
"Like what?" he questioned huskily, his body stirring now that his mind wasn't clouded with anger.
"I think you know," she said, her tone low and sensual.
He swallowed hard. "My parents and my grandparents are all inside."
"So, the inside's out," she whispered.
"What? Out here?" he asked hoarsely, his body going crazy now, especially after the sexy smile she shot him. He couldn't even describe the anticipation when she led him to the side of the house where his mother's tall rose bush grew. Having no windows on that part of the house would certainly prove beneficial to him now.
He pressed her against the side of the building and attacked her lips with his own, tasting the alcohol on his tongue when it slid inside to wrestle with hers.
She heard him groan deeply when her hand reached between them to fondle him over his jeans. In turn he kissed her deeper and let his own hands stray.
They didn't get much further before they heard a gasp behind them, startling them apart.
Before them stood the four older Scotts, privy to the younger couple's private moment. Nathan cursed under his breath while Peyton's cheeks turned a crimson red.
"Hey," Nathan said simply, not knowing how else to greet them in this awkward situation.
Peyton turned her head toward him and shot him a look. Hey? That's all he was going to say?
Catching her meaning, he faced his predecessors once more, noting the tinge of amusement on his father's face, while the other three looked on in disapproval. "We were just..."
"No need for explanations," his grandfather said sternly. "We can see what you were doing. It's no wonder your game is suffering if you're too busy chasing skirts to practice."
Nathan frowned at the crude comment. "Peyton's my girlfriend," he said defensively.
"I see," the older Scott answered blithely.
"And Nathan's game's not suffering at all," Peyton jumped in to say, the alcohol she'd consumed loosening her tongue more than usual. "In fact," she went on, "He'll have Mr. Scott's record beat in no time. He's the star of the Raven," she stated proudly.
"Doesn't say much for the rest of the team, does it?
"Oh Royal, that's enough," his wife admonished. "Didn't you hound the boy enough at dinner? Life is not just about basketball."
"I'm just saying, he came out here, he said, to practice, but obviously he's easily distracted..."
"Yes, yes," she said, waving her hand dismissively. If her husband had his way, their grandson would be playing ball 24-7. Just like he'd been with Dan. "Debra," she said, remembering their original reason for coming outside. "You were not exaggerating in the least. These rose bushes are absolutely stunning."
"Thank you," Deb answered uneasily. Had she known what they'd find, she'd never have insisted her mother in law come take a look. Even more unfortunate was that Royal had had to come along as well. "Nathan," she said, clearing her throat and turning to her son in disapproval. Not that she didn't like Peyton. She was certainly fond of the young girl. But their actions concerned her. It was to be expected, she knew, but she worried all the same. As a young mother herself, she knew how careless teenagers could be. "Why don't you take Peyton home and then come back here."
"Why?" he asked. She'd never had a problem with Peyton being there before.
"Because she said so," his grandfather answered for her.
And Nathan snapped. Peyton's presence would be fine, and even welcomed, if it weren't for his grandfather. "Oh, shut up, Grandpa! Who asked you?"
"Don't you talk to me that way!" Royal fumed. "I am your grandfather!"
"Whatever," Nathan replied, grabbing his girlfriend's hand and pulling her along. "Come on, Peyton. Let's go."
She practically had to run to keep up with him, and behind them, she could hear his grandfather admonishing Dan and Deb for the way they allowed Nathan to speak to him in such a disrespectful manner. She wanted to scream at him that to get respect, you first had to give it.
But she didn't. She was too busy trying to keep in step with her extremely aggravated boyfriend. She'd just gotten him in a better mood, and a few words from his grandfather set him off again.
"Ugh!" he growled when they reached his car and he punched it a few times.
"Careful," she said with genuine concern. "Don't wanna break your hand."
"I don't care," he replied unreasonably. "You see what he's like? I told you he's worse than my dad!"
"Yes, you did," she acknowledged.
"This is why I wanted you here tonight. Not to keep you from your girls' night but to keep me from losing it on that dick head!"
"Plan failed," she deadpanned.
"Yeah," he admitted. "He just...ugh, he makes me so..."
She nodded her head, telling him she got it.
"But it was stupid," he said, dread creeping into his voice. "Now my dad's gonna hammer me too."
"Probably," she agreed. "But the important thing is, was it worth it?"
"Worth it?" he asked, arching his brow.
"Yeah," she replied. "I mean, stupid or no, how good did it feel to tell him to shut up?"
A slow smile spread across his face. "Pretty damn good," he said. "D'you see his face? You'd think the stock market just crashed or something."
"He can give but he can't take," Peyton said.
Nathan nodded agreeably. "He didn't like what you said either," he told her. "About me taking over my dad's score."
"It's the truth," she said with a shrug of her shoulders.
"Might not be," he said reasonably.
"What is this doubt I'm hearing?" she teased. "It's so unlike you."
"I'm serious. I may never top my dad's score."
She shrugged once more. "So what if you don't? Would that be the worst thing in the world?"
"According to them, yeah."
"And according to you?"
"I guess not," he answered reluctantly. "But I really want to."
"Then you will."
"What makes you so sure?"
"Because you're that good."
"No, seriously."
"Oh, I'm very serious. Plus the fact that once you set your mind on something, you don't give up until you have it. And because you're dying to prove your grandfather wrong so you can rub his nose in it."
He chuckled at her response. "You know me too well."
"I do know a thing or two," she agreed. "Now let's get going before your grandpa hunts you down."
"Good idea," he said with a nod.
"And, because you can only drop me off," she said flirtatiously as she went around to the passenger's side. "You can feel me up on the way."
He quirked an eyebrow and got in the driver's side. "My girl's especially frisky tonight," he commented. "Hope it wasn't those gorgeous strippers that got you all hot?"
"Why? Would that bother you?" she asked in amusement as he turned the engine on and put the car in reverse to back out of the driveway.
"Hell yeah," he admitted. "If anybody's gonna be turning you on, it should be me, your boyfriend."
"Oh, is that how it works?" she asked in amusement. "Kind of a double standard considering you go to strip clubs, plus have a shit load of porn of your computer," she said.
He shrugged his broad shoulders. "I'm a guy," he said by way of explanation. "Guys look at that stuff."
"Uh huh, and girls can't?" she challenged. "Ok, let me ask you this," she continued when he didn't respond. "Does it bother you so much that you'd turn me down?"
"I could never turn you down," he replied truthfully. He never had yet.
"Good. That's what I wanna hear."
"I'm still hotter than them though, right?"
She giggled and nodded agreeably. "Like I said, ten times hotter than the three of them put together."
"You said a million times earlier," he countered.
Smiling coyly, she replied, "That's what I meant."
Flashing her his famous Scott smirk, he replied, "Well then, I guess it doesn't matter so much who sparked the flame, as long as I'm the one to put it out."
She smiled wickedly and scooted closer to him, letting her hand run up and down his leg, and moaning softly when he did the same to her.
Slowly she reached out for his growing erection, causing him to veer slightly off the road onto the gravel.
He gained control of the vehicle quickly enough, but only to have her laugh at him for the fumble. "Concentrate on the road, mister."
"Kinda hard," he responded hoarsely.
"More than kinda, I'd say, " she countered flirtily as she squeezed him gently. "Shall I stop?" she asked even as she unzipped his jeans.
"No," he objected. "Definitely don't stop."
"You sure?" she teased. "Don't want to cause an accident."
"You do your thing, I'll do mine," he said.
"If you say so," she whispered sensually, bending her head toward his lap.
But all of a sudden, and out of nowhere, her stomach lurched and she had to quickly whip around to rid her body of the toxins she'd consumed.
She was gagging violently and gasping for air while Nathan held her hair back from her face.
End of flashback/dream
But wait! No, that's not how that night had gone.
She may have been slightly inebriated but she recalled that pleasurable ride home perfectly. She hadn't been sick, and certainly, if she had been, Nathan was not the guy to hold her hair back as she wretched her guts out.
But she was definitely being sick right now, and someone was holding her hair away from her face.
She soon realized that she wasn't dreaming anymore. This was real. There was a bucket in front of her, and she was emptying the contents of her stomach into it.
The contents of her stomach. Oh damn. The pills.
Her body was rejecting them and she was still on her couch, in her living room.
Still alive.
She'd botched her suicide attempt.
When her stomach finally settled several minutes later, she sat back against the cushions, drained of energy. Only then did she notice all the eyes looking on in concern—her parents, several friends, including Bevin, Teresa, and Tyler. And Jake—the guy holding her hair.
Jake. Of course not Nathan.
She was bombarded with questions next; some asking if she was alright, others mentioning the probability of a flu virus.
Let them think she had the flu. She couldn't bring herself to be touched by any of their concern. She knew they meant well, but all she wanted was to go back into her dream, her beautiful memory.
Back to a time when she had Nathan and everything was good.
But now it was back to reality. She didn't have Nathan and nothing was good. She hated this world.
She couldn't even get her suicide right. Now what would she do?
...
"Talk to him?" Haley gasped, shaking her head. "Me? No, I-I can't do that. Why would you want me to? I accused him of rape. I can't go in there. How would I face him? What would I even say? 'Hey, sorry about all that rape stuff. Woops, I got the wrong guy, but you understand,'" she mocked. "He'd probably tell me to go to hell, and I wouldn't blame him..."
It was during Haley's rant that the girls realized that the overwhelming guilt Nathan felt toward Haley, she felt just as strong toward him.
Neither of them was able to let go of part fault to lay full responsibility where it belonged. On Damien.
Brooke opened her mouth to try to ease the girl's conscience, but Haley wasn't ready to listen to reason. Just as Nathan did, she knew logically that she wasn't at fault, but emotionally was a different story altogether.
Shaking her head, she took several steps backward, her mind reeling at what the girls were asking of her. It was too much. She couldn't do it. She couldn't face him. "I'm sorry, I can't," she said.
"Hales," Luke said as she turned to go.
"I'll meet you outside, kay?" she croaked before heading off down the hall.
"Haley!" he called after her. But she disappeared around the corner.
He turned back to Brooke and Rachel. "Why would you ask her to do that? She already feels bad enough as it is."
"Then it'll do her some good to talk to him," Rachel said.
"How do you figure?" he questioned in awe.
"Because Nathan doesn't blame her for anything," Rachel told him truthfully. "She needs to know that."
He nodded his head agreeably. Certainly he hadn't been able to convince her that she was completely innocent, regardless of having logic on his side.
It had to come from Nathan.
"And at the same time," Brooke said, "He needs to hear that she doesn't blame him either. It's the only way either of them can get past this."
He nodded once again. "I'll talk to her," he said.
"Thanks Lucas," Brooke said.
"Yeah," he replied. "No guarantee it'll work, but I'll give it a shot."
"Try really, really hard, ok?" Brooke pleaded. "This is so important for both of them."
He smiled and considered telling her that he tried really hard in everything he did. But he didn't tell her that. "I will," he said instead, before they all parted ways.
A/N: Hey, hope you all enjoyed the flashback/dream scene. It doesn't further the story at all, but was just added in there for all of you missing those N/P scenes. Hope you liked it.