Sequel to Silent Tears. Since you guys have been ragging on me to make a second - here you go! And yes, it is important that you read Silent Tears before you read this

xo

Pools of Pessimism

She could see the headlights making their way up the otherwise pitch black driveway, and knows that he found her. Funny, she picked a house in the middle of nowhere, with no connection to her previous life, just so he couldn't track her down, and yet here he was. He never ceased to amaze her.

Her hands went instinctively to her swollen abdomen, the only place she could put them when looking for solace and comfort. The past week, lying in an empty house, which only held remnants of a previous family's memories, the only thing that kept her sane and calmed was the stir of a life inside of her.

She had yet to unpack, and the depressing antics of an unsettled woman were only slightly beginning to show up around the house. She had begrudgingly switched to decaf for the baby, but was still drinking cups of that all day, when she would get out of bed after another sleepless night. She had no reason to be anxious – no need to begin working, she had plenty of money in the bank. But the shrill emptiness of her previously hectic life caused a certain hole and silence, which she had just learned to be the loudest sound.

The knock came to quickly and she didn't wait nearly long enough before swinging open the door. The shock left her speechless for a few seconds.

"Nathan."

"Hey." He came into the house, without an invitation, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. She smiled slightly at his comforting reflex action.

He scanned the living room from where he stood in the foyer, noting the unpacked boxes in the corner, the issues of Vogue piled high on the off-center coffee table.

"So this is where you've been."

She stood, fidgeting nervously in the center of the room, unfolding and refolding her arms.

"What are you doing here, Nathan?" she asked, skipping right to the point. She scanned his face. "He sent you, didn't he?"

"Actually, I came on my own. Haley was going to, but she needed to stay home with Cody."

Brooke looked down and nodded. "Did he tell you…."

"Everything?" Nathan finished. "Yeah, pretty much."

She looked up at him, scared to see the disappointment in his eyes.

"I mean, Brooke, I can tick off the messed up things I've done in my life, and then tick off the screwed up things you've done, but when I add them all together, they don't come close to how badly you fucked up this time."

"And who are you to say I fucked up?" There was a fire in her words now, she wasn't backing down.

"Brooke." His voice softened. "You don't let a guy think he's having your baby. You don't marry the guy who thinks he's the father of your baby. You don't cheat on said guy with your high school sweetheart. And you don't leave Lucas out of his baby's life."

"Look, Nathan, I don't need a lecture from you. I'm not letting my kid grow up in an insecure environment."

"And you call an emotionally unstable single mother who walked out on her wedding a stable environment?"

"Lucas isn't ready to raise a kid."

"Who are you to make that judgment?"

Brooke grabbed her argument from her mind. "Look at Peyton. Same situation. Got her pregnant, dumped me, married her, then left her and Sara."

"He never loved Peyton. And he still supports Sarah."

"What proof do you have that he never loved Peyton?"

Nathan stared at her for a minute. "Is that what this is about? Another stupid love triangle? Your insecurity that Lucas is going to choose Peyton again?"

"Please, Nathan, I'm not in high school."

"Could've fooled me."

The house looked no different than when he had left. A tricycle lay haphazardly in the driveway – the lawn was still unkept – the house still that lovely brick color.

He knew he shouldn't be here. That he didn't have the right to ask her for anything. But somehow – his feet propelled him forward.

It took only one ring of the doorbell before it swung open. Peyton stared at him for a minute – arms crossed over her chest. "Sarah's asleep."

"That's not why I'm here," he muttered softly.

"You think I don't know that?" she made no motion to let him inside, just reached into her bathrobe pocket and pulled out a slip of paper, stuffing it into his palm. "She called me a few days ago. Asked me not to tell you where she is."

Lucas closed his hand around the slip of paper. "It's her address," continued Peyton.

"Peyton…"

She closed her eyes for a second. "Just go, Lucas. Go."

That was all he needed to turn on his heel after he mouthed a thank you. But as he backed out of the driveway, he swear he saw her smile.

There was a soft mist beginning to fall across the lawn, and Lucas would have thought it romantic under any other circumstances. True, all he wanted was this night to end up how he had been dreaming for so long, but somehow he knew that it wasn't that easy.

There was no doorbell, so he used the knocker gently across the black door. Pausing to run a nervous hand across his slightly grown in buzz cut, he rocked back and forth on his heels.

After just a short pause, the door swung open, and there she was – under-dressed from their last meeting, but still looking beautiful in her sweats and wife beater. Her hair pulled up into a loose and messy bun, her hazel eyes settling on his, not looking the least bit surprised.

"Hey."

He was following her inside now, shutting the door behind him, making this entrance final.

"So you didn't go through with it."

"Thanks to you." The retort was bitter, her scratchy voice setting an uneven indifference to his presence.

"I've been looking for you."

"And you've found me."

He stepped forward and planted a soft kiss on her lips. She was surprised – but didn't pull back. At least, not right away.

And when she did, she pushed him, let him stumble backwards. "Is that it? Is that all you think you need to do? Kiss me, and make everything better?" She put a finger to her lips, as a single tear fell from her eye. "It's not going to work this time, Lucas," she said in a sharp tone.

"You're honestly mad at me? You were the one who lied to me! You were the one who pushed me away in the first place!"

"Yeah, cause our relationship really would have worked in the first place," she retorted sarcastically. "Hi, I'm Brooke Davis. This is my boyfriend Lucas Scott, and my best friend, who's pregnant with his child."

"You had a choice! I could have supported Peyton and Sarah, and still been with you. All these years, we could have been happy." His tone softened slightly.

Brooke laughed softly. "Happiness doesn't exist Lucas. At least, happy endings don't."

He gave her a cold look, choosing to ignore her previous statement. He clenched his fist in a moment of anger. "And how could you not tell me?"

"How could you cheat on me, with my best friend?" He remembered those words from a long time ago, but the ones she uttered now were new. "Again."

"I never meant to hurt you, Brooke. But can you ever find it in yourself to forgive me?" He stepped forward – taking her hands in his. "Because I know your heart is telling you to be with me. You love me. But your mind – that's what stopping you. You don't want to get hurt again. And I will never hurt you again."

Her eyesight grew blurry as tears pooled in them, and she pulled her hands away. "I can't…I'm sorry."

"Brooke…" his voice was desperate – pleading. "You left him. That's a step. If you don't want this – if you don't want us – then why did you leave him?"

"I didn't love him." The answer was simple, plain, as though she should have known it all along.

"Just say it," he pleaded, stepping closer to her, leaning his forehead against her own and breathing out softly. "Just say you want us." He brought a hand down and gently grazed the prominent bump in her abdomen. "We can be perfect together."

She brought a hand around to the back of his neck. "It's a girl," she whispered. "I'm having a baby girl. We're having a baby girl."

They stood there for another minute, heads touching, Lucas stroking her stomach and crying some of the only tears Brooke had ever witnessed him shed. She closed her eyes against his face, before feeling the brush of his lips against hers.

The warmth and electricity – the comfort, the safety, was enough to propel her onto her toes, parting her lips and allowing his tongue entrance to her mouth. He gladly took it, running his hand down her neck, and along her small frame, which the pregnancy could barely even widen.

In the minutes that followed, as she slipped off his jacket, and let him coax her out of her tank top, Brooke felt a certain security that she had not sensed in months. As she let herself be vulnerable with the boy she loved once more, as she let him touch her, and trail kisses up and down her exposed and willing skin, even though she felt slightly frightened, mainly all she felt was tranquility.

And afterward, as she lay asleep in his arms, soft and cool linens pooled around her bare skin, he was sure she believed in happy endings.