Really how could I not write something after how 612 ended? This is going to be short, 3 maybe 4 chapters at most. Could be 2, I haven't decided, lol. I'm all over the map. This is short, but the next one or two will be long, I promise. I just got bored with everything else, but expect an update from TSITT soon.


I'm so scared about the future and I wanna talk to you
Oh I wanna talk to you
You can take a picture of something you see
In the future where will I be?

"I need to tell you something…" her tear-clogged voice trails off, and in an instant he's on his feet, shuffling out the door, leaving all thoughts of Dixon and LA in the room.

"I collapsed the other day at work. The night you had that weird dream."

His intake of air is sharp, he raises a hand to his forehead. "Why didn't you tell me? Are you okay - what does that mean?"

"I've been having pain for a few days… I didn't want to tell you in case it was nothing. But I went to the doctor's…" her choked sob has him clenching his teeth.

"Peyton, I need you to please tell me what's going on - what happened at the doctor's?"

He knows he's questioning her a little too much, but the woman he loves is half way across the country crying her eyes out, and he can't hold her. Love her, kiss her, take the pain away.

It's what he does best. But he can't do that when he's in LA with the director from Hell.

Officially, he feels like he's let her down - she'll never see it that way, but saving her is in his blood.

Her silence drones for moments, only a sniffle every few seconds, his ragged breathing filling in the space between silence and sniffles.

"They ran some tests, took some blood. And then this picture of Ellie. I've been looking at it all day. I can't stop thinking, worrying…"

If he wasn't worried before, he surely is now. Blood is running through his veins at an alarming speed, causing his heart to thump wildly beneath his chest. Almost as if it's going to come right out. His hands start to shake and his mouth runs dry. Oh God, he thinks - blood tests, pain, Ellie. His head starts to spin and he has to sit down. The world is tilting and nothing seems okay at this moment in time.

"Are you okay, Peyton?" Simply because, he doesn't know what else to say. Surely a writer must have the words to soothe her fears, but selfishly, he can't even soothe his own.

Her voice trembles across the connection. He can picture her shrugging and squeezing her eyes tight. "I… no. Yes. I don't know - I just… I need you, Lucas."

And there it is. She's said all he needs to hear. Whenever Peyton Sawyer needs Lucas Scott, time stands still, his world focuses in on one thing and one thing alone - saving the love of his life.

"I'm taking the next flight out."

They say their 'I love you's' and he's on the next flight connecting Los Angeles to Tree Hill. He says nothing to Dixon, barely remembers to grab his things from his hotel room, and knocks over a half dozen people on his journey to the airport. By the time he's seated comfortably on the plane, he's received five calls from Dixon, and eight from Julian - no doubt reprimanding him for leaving "A-list" Hollywood director. None of that matters. A flash of curls float through his mind, and his focus is redirected.

You can climb a ladder up to the sun
Or write a song nobody has sung
Or do something that's never been done

Somewhere over Oklahoma, Lucas is shaken out of a nightmare - he's dreamt that Peyton was stricken with cancer, the likes of which took her birth mother. They'd had only mere months together before she was taken from him, his dream had brought him to a fuzzy funeral and that's when he'd woken up, gasping for breath. The flight attendant had come by, and he'd quickly asked for some water.

Now that he's calmed his nerves, quickly drinking down the liquid - his thoughts focus back on his fiancée.

What if it is cancer?

Would it be treatable?

How early had they caught it?

What type of cancer?

What if she… died?

Tears form in the corners of his eyes, his throat begins to burn with rising emotion. They'd discussed long ago, when they were just kids in love, what would happen if they themselves, ever had children. The possibilities were there for HCM and the cancer gene to be passed down. Thinking this had only led Lucas to hold his then girlfriend tighter, all too aware of the fact that the disease could inflict her body.

And how here he was again, thinking the same thing… about to be physically ill.

Letting his thoughts get the best of him, he starts thinking of a future without Peyton. Ellie was young when she was taken - it wouldn't be unheard of for someone their age to be taken because of cancer.

He told her that she had been so good to him when he'd strayed from their love, but he'd never given his whole heart to any woman that wasn't Peyton Sawyer.

What if he has to live without her?

There is no other woman he can imagine loving, marrying, having children with besides his curly blonde. She's everything.

His fists clench, and he puts his head between his knees.

He figures this is what an anxiety attack must be, because his breathing is labored and his heart is tightening.

And then he thinks of what Peyton must be going through.

Are you lost or incomplete?
Do you feel like a puzzle, you can't find your missing piece?
Tell me how do you feel?
Well I feel like they're talking in a language I don't speak
And they're talking it to me

Lucas keeps it together enough as he's walking out of the plane, but as soon as his feet hit the floor, he's taking off in a mad sprint towards the exit. Only having brought a carry on, he runs with only one thought in mind.

When he feels the cool air of the fall day, he drops his suitcase, falling to his knees. Without warning, he's doubling over - all the contents of his stomach are being released into the grass.

Not caring what the on goers are thinking or even saying to him, he gets in the first taxi he sees, barely able to spit out their address.

So you take a picture of something you see
In the future where will I be?
You can climb a ladder up to the sun

Their home is quiet, dimly lit by a few lamps. He hears the soft notes of what he thinks is The Cure, and even though he claimed not to like the band, the smile on his face cannot be stopped.

She's here. She's home. She's safe.

For now, his subconscious echoes.

Shaking his head, he drops his bag to the floor, taking long strides to reach their bedroom. The door is open, inviting him to take a look at the gorgeous woman sprawled on the bed.

She's wearing a ragged band t-shirt, and a pair of his sleep shorts - had the situation they found themselves in not been so dire, he's sure he'd be removing the items of clothing in an instant.

But they are. And he can't. He closes his eyes to squelch the - yet again - tears.

The deep rising and falling of her body indicates that she's asleep. Shrugging the clothes from his frame, save his boxers, he slips into the bed, immediately wrapping his arms around her, pulling her into his chest. He breathes a sigh of relief, and strokes her soft locks.

This is what he's been needing since their phone call. He hopes - in any way possible - that it's what she needs.

More than anything, he cares about what she needs.

"Luke?"

Her groggy voice breaks him from his thoughts and the feel of her warm skin beneath his fingertips.

He smiles, leaning down to press his lips to the back of her neck, staying there, having missed the taste of her skin, even more since their phone call.

Peyton turns in his arms, not bothering with small talk or excuses, just burrowing her head into his hold. She breathes deeply, letting the unique scent of him wash over her.

It calms her for moments, making her forget anything besides Lucas.

But then he's tilting her head back, and his questioning eyes refuse to let this go.

"Peyton?"

"I need to tell you something, Lucas."

Lucas sighs, but rubs her back. "I feel like that's the only thing you say to me lately," he jokes.

Peyton tries to smile, but it's half hearted.

He sits up, bringing her with him, so that she's still in his arms, but now they're resting against the headboard. While getting comfortable, his eyes drift to their nightstand, catching the pamphlets laying there, with the picture of Ellie and her as baby resting on top. His stomach drops.

Turning back to her, he sees the tears shining in her eyes. "Peyton… I don't want this to sound cruel or out of the blue. But after your frantic mumbling on the phone, and now this," he points to the papers, "I have to ask. Peyton, do you have cancer."

The tears pool and drip from her lids. She takes his hands and begins to speak. "We need to talk."

So you don't know were you're going, and you wanna talk
And you feel like you're going where you've been before
You tell anyone who'll listen but you feel ignored
Nothing's really making any sense at all
Let's talk, let's ta-a-alk
Let's talk, let's ta-a-alk


Okay, I know I didn't focus in on Peyton, odd considering it's about her. Next chapter will be all about Peyton. Let me know what you think!