A/N: This is a fic that just sort of popped into my head one day. A huge ginormous thanks to Miranda for helping me through the writing process and showing me this beautiful song that is used in the beginning of this chapter. Also thanks to Amanda and Christina for beta-ing this. Erm... A warning that this will be dark, angsty, and deal with some dark subject matter. Anyone who this might offend, stop now. :) I do believe that is all. By the way, the part that is in italics is a flashback. And oh yes! I don't own OTH. Or the song. I wish...

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No time permits to open up
When you've been hiding thoughts so strong
She's been holding out for an angel to come along
No reply from the sky
But she just keeps looking up
She just keeps looking up now

--Broken Like an Angel, Crossfade

Her hands were her livelihood.

She knew that it was melodramatic to say that but she knew it was true. Without her hands, she wouldn't have it. She wouldn't be able to draw.

Drawing was the quintessential metaphor for life, she had eventually concluded. In one simple sketch, you could solve any problem. Black and white. No gray areas. Everything was always in its place.

No line ever left its counterparts. Its family of other lines.

She didn't like when her thoughts strayed to that. The secret place where her lonely thoughts went. The leaving place. It was something she despised about herself. She didn't want to be the weak, whiny girl but somehow, she always found herself back in that place. She was whining about Jake, or her mom, or her other mom, or Lucas. It never seemed to end.

It was hell.

As she stared up at her bedroom ceiling with cloudy hazel eyes, her mind wandered to Derek, as her unoccupied thoughts often did these days. What was he doing? Was he scared?

That was a silly thought.

She had come to think of her brother as a mythical sort of hero, someone who always knew what to do. He was always in control, always sure.

Peyton envied him.

---

He stared up at her window, waiting for the light to be extinguished, and maybe with that light, her fear would be extinguished too.

At first, he was shocked to learn that he actually had a sister. He wasn't prepared for them to meet the way they had either but once he did, he noticed something in her. Something that reminded him of himself.

She was scared, that much was clear to him.

So he had set about helping her in the only way that he knew how. It was harsh, but it was the only thing he could do. Any other way, and he would find himself getting close to his half-sister. He couldn't do that.

The people he let get close to him always left.

The only one that had bothered to stick around was his mother. He knew that he just couldn't take the chance. The trouble was, the more and more that he was around his little sister, he realized how destructive that rule was.

"Come on Peyton…" He whispered to the suffocating silence.

---

A doorbell yanked her roughly out of her fantastical thoughts. She strolled toward the front door and pulled it open, greeted by a sight much like something out of a movie. Two uniform-clad men stood in front of her, somber demeanors that looked somehow off kilter on them.

She was struck by the fact that their sadness didn't quite reach their eyes.

She didn't know why they would come here.

"Peyton Sawyer?" The one on the right asked, Baldy she instantly named him for his shiny cranium.

She nodded slowly, still oblivious to their purpose. Something wasn't right.

"We were sent to inform you that your brother," Baldy spared a moment to glance at the piece of paper in his hand. "Derek, was killed in action in Afghanistan."

Peyton's breath caught in her throat. Her heart contracted painfully in her chest.

Not Derek. Not Now.

Baldy's partner-in-crime shoved a small box toward Peyton. "We are very sorry for your loss. You can call the number here," he handed her a card. "If you have any questions or concerns."

As quickly as they came, the duo was gone.

The box fell to the floor with a thud that felt vaguely inappropriate at that time. She slowly sat down at the floor, staring at the box as her vision became clouded with angry tears.

This couldn't be happening, not now, not again. She couldn't have someone else…

Peyton grabbed the box and flung it against the wall behind her, sobbing, as papers fluttered around her shaking body. Angrily, she grabbed the papers and threw them, in a futile attempt to make this all seem like a dream.

They fluttered around her. Teasing her, taunting her.

She screamed.

How could he do this to her? How could he leave her like this? He knew she needed him.

She was right. People leave. Anytime Peyton trusted anyone, they left. Lucas left her for Brooke. Her dad left for a job. Both of her mothers died. The first Derek was crazy.

She slumped against the cold plaster wall, the rough texture scratching against her back. The pain was a welcome relief.

A crumpled paper that bore her name caught Peyton's glistening hazel eye. She reached out with a thin, trembling finger and picked it up as a new wave of grief washed over her.

Peyton,

If you're getting this letter, it means that something happened to me. I'm sorry that it had to happen this way. Especially after we were finally just getting to know each other. I need you to do something for me. I need you to tell my mom. I wrote her address on the back of this paper.

Peyton, I know we've only known each other for a short time but you need to know that you mean the world to me.

There was something scratched out after that. Something that Peyton couldn't decipher.

Just remember little sis, don't let the darkness overtake you.

Derek

She gritted her teeth and tore the paper in half, tossing it to the side. It was too late. The darkness was closing in.