A/N: I posted this early because of all the great reviews! Huge thank you to everyone who read and reviewed, and those who just read! Probably should have stopped last chapter at the first break, but, you live and you learn.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. And I got nothing from writing this fanfic but the pleasure of having the story in my head finally on paper. This disclaimer goes for the entire fic.

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Chapter 2: Ian/Derek/William?

Peyton walked over to the table under which William huddled. Slowly, not trying to startle him, Peyton knelt down and laid out on the floor so that her head was near, but not blocking entirely, the only exit from under the table. As she bent down she could hear him humming to himself, as Mrs. Warner said he was wont to do, and she heard the rustle of his clothes as he began to rock back and forth, gripping his knees tighter. Peyton ignored him as best she could, and dug in her pocket to get her Ipod, putting in the earphones and turning on the music. It hurt her ears as she listened, but she wanted the music to be loud enough so the little boy could hear it as well.

Music had always been her solace in the darkness. Maybe it could be his too. She searched her playlist for a song with a moving beat and pressed play. Halfway through the song, she sensed the child still his rocking. When the next song began, the little boy had changed positions, scooting closer as if straining to hear the music that came from her headphones.

Peyton turned slowly, moving her head up and down to make it seem like she was listening to the music and not trying to look at the boy. It didn't work, because when she finally glanced in his direction, his head was still buried in his knees, though he was closer to her and the entrance to his cavern under the table. Casually, Peyton took out an earpiece and laid it on the floor in front of him.

"You can listen if you want" she said nonchalantly, turning back away from him as if it didn't matter if he picked up the earpiece or not.

She quickly went through her list to find songs she thought would speak to him, as much as any song could speak to a 4 year old, turning down the music to entice him to pick up the earpiece, and so it wouldn't hurt his ears if he eventually did. But she had faith in the music, and she went with her gut, rapidly creating a playlist for them to listen to, just in case her plan was successful. She wasn't exactly in a happy place herself, so the songs that spoke to her might just speak to him too.

One song, then two, played on as Peyton listened through only one ear, the other straining for some indication that he would take up her offering. Just when she had begun to despair that the woman was right, that this child really was content to be left in the dark, she heard it. A rustle of movement. The soft tug of the cord as the other earpiece was picked up. Turning her face outward, she allowed a smile to appear on her face. Looking up, she caught the gaze of Mrs. Warner, who, with no expression on her face, turned and walked away.

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Peyton sat, staring out of the window as Brooke bubbled on about her brilliant and successful plan to reconnoiter the Center for potential future Davises.

"I'm not sure P. Sawyer, but I think I found the one!" Brooke chattered excitedly as Peyton continued her musing.

Brooke frowned. "Or rather, she found me. She just crawled up to my boots and began patting them, as if to say, 'Hey, nice boots!'…"

Peyton, used to Brookes mental meanderings, managed to place a 'hmm', or a 'get out!,' in the appropriate places, but she was lost in her own thoughts about the little boy she spent her afternoon with. She didn't get a good look at him, trying to respect his privacy and gain his trust without invading his space, but the sadness radiating from him was palpable. She smiled softly to herself and mentally patted herself on the back at the fact that she had made even the smallest connection. "One step closer to the light, little buddy."

"…So I tried not to act to interested in her, Isabella, that's her name. Isn't that the perfect name? Isabella Davis. I can see it now…"

They had listened to the Ipod the rest of the time, until Peyton noticed Brooke making her way down the stairs. Softly, not looking at him, she let him know that she had to go, but she would be back tomorrow with a surprise for him. Not expecting a response, she held out her hand for the earpiece, looking down at her hand as she saw his gently lay the earpiece inside of it. Their hands touched for a moment, and Peyton felt a jolt of recognition, as if she were connected to this boy somehow.

"…Anyway I was playing with some other babies, trying not to be too obvious, and she followed me! She sat at my feet and whined, and wouldn't stop 'til I picked her up, and when I did, she gave me the biggest smile, and she had dimples, like me, and the prettiest eyes. They were like this purple, violet color. I can't wait to make her a Baby Brooke outfit when we get home. I have the perfect shade of blue violet…"

Maybe they were connected by loss. Here was a boy who had lost his mother, and to cancer, just like her. Here was a boy who got his hopes up as he went from family to family, only to have them dashed as over and over again, people left him back at the Center. She had been left as well, every time her dad chose the sea over her, when Jake left, when Haley left, when Brooke left, when Derek left, when Julian left, when Lucas left. The only difference was, she had never been physically hurt, and throughtthrough it all, she always had someone. Brooke when her dad was gone, and Haley, and Jake. Lucas when Brooke was gone, and Derek. Brooke when Lucas was gone.

Yet her music and her art remained constant. If she could give William nothing else this weekend, she would try to give him entrance into those two worlds, and maybe that would help him make it through.

They went back to the hotel, quickly changing their clothes and heading back to the Center to get ready for the beginning of the foster-to-adopt weekend, a weekend that began with a dinner to welcome everyone to the Center. Brooke looked around, checking out the competition as the director introduced everyone to the Center staff, explained the mission of the Center, and gave the itinerary for the weekend. Nervously she nudged Peyton as she noticed the well-dressed couples, most of them in their late twenties and early thirties.

"P. Sawyer, look at these people. They are so old they could be our parents!" Brooke hissed as the director read from the packet of information they had all gotten.

"Yeah, if they gave birth a like, 7." Peyton looked up from the brochure to see Brooke in the beginning stages of a freak-out. She laid her hand on Brooke's. "Hey, if it's meant to be, it'll be. Isabella will be a Davis if she is supposed to be one. So just be yourself. That's more than enough, regardless of how old you are, and if its not, their loss."

At this, Brooke calmed, then smiled, flashing her dimple. "You're right," she whispered to Peyton. "I'm Brooke Davis. And I will get what I want. Because fate told me that Isabella was mine when she knew not to drool over my Clothes over Bros original."

Peyton shook her head, grinning. "Not quite what I meant, but close enough." They both turned their attention to the director as she began the slide show, introducing all the children available for adoption. As their pictures flashed, their ages, likes and dislikes, and a brief history were also given. They started with the older children, probably hoping that they would have a better chance of getting some attention and interest before everyone focused on the cute babies.

William's picture flashed on the screen, and everyone began to shift in their seats. Peyton, not having actually seen him totally, was surprised at how beautiful he was, with his curly blond hair and soulful eyes. Unfortunately, his beauty was overshadowed by the awkwardness in his presentation, both in his picture and his profile. His eyes were half- closed, his face unsmiling, with his thumb in his mouth and his shoulders hunched. "William Nathan Sawyer, age 4 years." Peyton started as she heard his full name. That was a freaky coincidence, at least she hoped, that the child had her last name. She made a mental note to call her dad when they left tonight. After the director briefly shared his painful history, she shared his likes. Or rather, his like. "William likes to play by himself." The director paused. "He has no dislikes that we have found."

Peyton stared around the room, noticing the uncomfortable glances the couples and other guests gave each other. There was no apparent interest in this room for the lonely little boy. Even through the picture you could see his lack of interest in the world, which Peyton knew was a front. She was especially saddened at the thought that at 4, William was so far into himself he couldn't even express what he disliked. At the age of tantrums and innate, developmentally appropriate selfishness, this child did not put up any resistance to anything.

She had been that way herself, so desperate to feel less alone in the world she would put up with the things she hated- her dad leaving constantly, shopping with Brooke, being Nathan's doormat, Brooke with Lucas. It wasn't until her senior year that she learned to stand up and fight for what she wanted, recognizing that maybe she deserved some happiness too.

Finally the infants were shown, and Isabella's picture flashed on the screen. Isabella Penelope Winters, age 9 months. Brooke bounced in her seat and grabbed Peyton's arm. "She has my middle name!" Brooke squealed as quietly as she could. "It's official! That baby's mine! Fate just said so!"

"Go fate!" Peyton muttered. That little boy had her last name and her history, so what was fate saying to her? With two dead moms, a psycho-stalker who pretended to be her long lost brother, a real long lost brother, and a dad who went everywhere and who had been single for over 13 years, she didn't put it past fate to throw another lost brother into her universe. "I am definitely calling Dad tonight!" Peyton thought, crossing her arms in agitation.

After the dinner and slideshow presentation, each of the potential parents chose 5 children they held a potential interest in, and on Saturday, they would be paired with 3 of those children for an activity and a meal. Both Brooke and Peyton only chose one child, so before they were allowed to leave, they were called into the director's office.

"Do you mind if I speak in front of both of you? I recognize that you two live together, so I am not violating any confidentiality rules in speaking to you both at the same time." She began, gesturing for them to sit down. "I am concerned that the two of you only picked one child, when the instructions clearly stated to pick five."

Brooke spoke up. "I understood the instructions, but I couldn't pick any other child but Isabella."

"Oh?" The director said, stapling her fingers and leaning forward. "And why is that?"

"Well, we were here this afternoon volunteering when Isabella crawled up to me and introduced herself to my shoes. When I tried to play with other children, she put up a fuss, until I picked her up and turned my attention back to her." Brooke shrugged, as if what she were saying was obvious. "As a businesswoman, I can appreciate that determination, and as a woman, I can understand knowing what you want at first sight. If she's chosen me to be her mother, I'm okay with that, because I would like for her to be my daughter. And as such, I don't want her to be upset by me picking other children to take her place. I don't want her to feel any more rejection in her life; I want her to know that she is enough for me. She doesn't understand about rules yet, and it looks like she has a hard time sharing, though we'll work on that." Brooke said hurriedly, as though she realized at that moment that not sharing was not an admirable trait.

The director sat back with a puzzled look on her face. Peyton inwardly smiled. A lot of people looked like that after trying to follow Brooke Davis logic. "You do realize Ms. Davis, that there is no guarantee that Isabella will become your daughter. There are several other families who are interested in her as well. If you do not have other options, you may leave here this weekend without a child to foster at all."

"I understand." Brooke said, serious. "But I didn't choose her, she chose me, and I am going to honor that choice. If at the end of the day, she is placed with another family, then I will respect that, and she will be with the family that is best for her. That just means that somewhere out there is a another child that is waiting for me to find him or her. But until then, this little girl deserves to get what she wants, and right now, what she wants is me."

"Ummm, yes, well," the director said, flustered. Peyton sympathized with her. Brooke was like a tidal wave, so majestic and overwhelming, you don't even notice 'til its too late that she's about to roll all over you. Changing her focus, she turned towards Peyton. "And you, Ms. Sawyer?"

Peyton looked at the director. "I'm not here to adopt." She explained. "I'm just here to support my roommate, and be available just in case I'm needed since I will be living with Brooke and her future child, whoever it is. But to answer your question, I chose William because I knew no one else would, and he deserves some attention this weekend too, just like the other kids. If not more." She finished lamely, realizing she had probably insulted the boy by assuming no one had chosen him.

The director looked at the two of them for a long moment. She leaned forward and spoke. "Ms. Davis, I am going to respect your wishes to only choose one child, but you can only get one time slot with her. The rest of the time you will have to play with other children while she bonds with the other potential parents."

She turned towards Peyton. "And you, Ms. Sawyer. Thank you for your compassion for William, but I am afraid it is misplaced. William, unfortunately, is not a child that interacts with anyone, so your time with him may be uncomfortable. However, you are right in your belief that no one else requested him for tomorrow, so you are welcome to be with him any time during the day. But please don't feel obligatedto stay with him the entire day if it becomes too much."

"Oh, I'm not." Peyton reassured the director. "But something tells me tomorrow we'll be just fine."

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"Are you sure daddy?" Peyton said on the phone, pacing the room. "Cause he has blond hair, and he has our last name."

"Peyton, do you know how common the name Sawyer is? Next you'll be calling to ask me if Robert Sawyer is my brother or Diane Sawyer is a second cousin. I am 100% positive that I don't have any children floating around out there." Larry answered patiently.

"Ewww" Peyton shuddered. "Bad choice of words Daddy."

Larry chuckled. "But seriously Peyton. There's a reason we adopted you, besides the fact that you were beautiful. I couldn't, well, I can't have kids. So there is no way he could be mine, even accidentally."

Peyton sighed, relieved but still unsettled. "Thanks daddy. Love you." It wasn't a relative, thank goodness, but the feeling inside her wouldn't go away. There was a connection to this boy somewhere, somehow. She couldn't get him off her mind. Sighing, she got herself ready for bed. It was only a few more days. There was no sense worrying about what cards fate held up her sleeve. She would show her hand eventually.

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Robert Sawyer was a science fiction writer, and Diane Sawyer is a tv personality.

Reviews are appreciated. Chapter 3 up no later than Monday!