Please excuse how suckish this chapter is. But this is the first real chapter and first chapters are always suckish so...please don't kill me. DEDICATED TO: smileymee16, krfan, and niley4eva2012 for their lovely encouraging reviews! (:

Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Hannah Montana or JONAS or anything else cool. But I do own Peyton and the plot of this story, and that's a start, right?

Wed. August 3, 2013, Lucas Residence, Hollywood, California, 8: 00 a.m.

The little girl tried not to giggle as she quietly opened the door to her father's room and tiptoed inside. He didn't have to work today, and he had promised they would spend the whole day together. Since she'd woken up first, she had the pleasure of waking him up her favorite way - by jumping on him and screaming.

The four-year-old made her way over to the big bed and climbed up on it next to her father, dragging her special teddy bear with her. She stood up above him, a smile gracing her beautiful little face, and opened her mouth to start yelling. But she suddenly froze when she noticed something on the bed next to her father's sleeping figure.

Careful not to wake her father, she bent down and gingerly picked up the photograph next to him. Silently she sat down beside him, staring at the picture intently. A beautiful girl, no older than sixteen or seventeen, stared back at her. She had long, wavy brown hair that looked very soft and dazzling, sparkly blue eyes. And a big, bright, friendly smile.

Peyton gently ran her fingers over the girl's face. She had never seen her before, but somehow she knew who she was. She looked almost exactly the same as how Peyton had pictured her. She smiled as she realized how very much she herself looked like the girl in the picture. The same eyes, the same smile, and some other things she couldn't quite name. This girl was undeniably the most beautiful girl Peyton had ever seen.

"Mommy," she whispered in a small voice, her eyes never leaving the girl's.

She wasn't in so much of a hurry to wake her father anymore. She leaned back against the pillows and looked at the picture for a little longer, wondering once again what her mother was like. Her father never talked about her. He'd only really told her a few random things, all of which she remembered as if they were the most important secrets in the world. But mainly the only things he'd ever told her was that her mother loved her very much and that she hadn't ever wanted to leave them. Peyton didn't quite understand that – why would she leave if she didn't want to?

But whenever she asked, he just changed the subject.

She looked down at her teddy bear – Chewie, as she called it, because she'd chewed on its ear for comfort when she was younger. Her mother had bought it for her before she was born. It was her most prized possession.

She grabbed the little bear and turned it upside down to see the bottom of its left paw. She couldn't really read the words embroidered there, but she had memorized them. Princess Peyton, Mommy's angel.

She ran her little finger over the letters, imagining the beautiful girl in the picture stitching them there, just for her. Silently she picked up her bear and gave it a tight hug.

Finally, she decided that now that she had seen her mother, her father would have no choice but to tell her a little more. "Daddy?" she said, climbing up onto her knees and gently shaking his shoulder. He stirred a little but didn't wake. "Daddy!" she pushed on his shoulder harder. Nothing.

Sighing in frustration, she leaned over and shoved his shoulder with all her might. "Daddy!"

Nick woke with a start, yawning as he sat up in bed. He groaned a little as he rubbed his eyes. "Good morning, Princess," he said, before he turned to see the look on her face. "Peyton? What's up?"

"Daddy?" she tilted her tiny head to the side. "Were you crying?" Confused, Nick moved a little to look at the mirror above his dresser. Sure enough, there were dried tears all over his face. Then he remembered the events of the night before.

It wasn't very unusual for him to cry himself to sleep, but of course Peyton didn't know that.

"That's nothing, P," he sighed. "Really. Don't worry about it."

"Daddy, you said not to cry about Mommy, remember?" she reminded him. "You said she wouldn't want us to be sad."

Once again he was amazed by his young daughter's cleverness. "That's right," he told her gently, smiling slightly as he reached out to tuck some of her curly locks behind her ear. "I guess I forgot."

It was quiet for a moment.

"Daddy," she whispered finally, reaching behind her to grab something. "This picture...it's Mommy, isn't it?"

She held it up for him to see. He took a sharp intake of breath as he realized he'd fallen asleep before hiding the picture last night.

"Peyton..." he whispered hoarsely, reaching out to take the picture from her.

She hugged it tight to her chest before he could grab it. "Is it?"

He looked into her big blue eyes. Sometimes he was glad that she looked so much like her mother. Other times, it was horribly painful.

"Yes, that's Mommy," he told her finally. "It was the last picture I took of her before she went away. Before you were born..."

"She's pretty," was all his daughter said.

Silence.

Peyton looked down at the picture again. "Daddy?" she whispered. Her voice was quiet, almost scared.

"Yes, honey?"

"Can I keep it?"

He looked at her, startled. How he hadn't seen that coming, he wasn't sure. "I...honey..."

"Please?"

Nick opened his mouth again, but then closed it. He was silent for a moment. "Sure, P. Keep it. You deserve a picture of her, don't you?"

She snuggled against him, holding the picture as if it were the most fragile thing in the world as he wrapped his arms around her and rubbed her back gently. She wanted so badly to ask about her mother, but she couldn't find any words. "Thank you," she whispered into his chest finally. He only nodded, afraid that if he spoke she would realize he was crying again.

He had to be strong. For his daughter.

For their daughter.

Wed. August 3, 2013, Stewart Residence, Franklin, Tennessee, 8: 00 a.m.

She slammed the trunk of her freshly washed car, pausing for a minute to collect her thoughts before turning around.

"That's everything..."

He smiled at her sadly. "I guess it is." He walked towards her until he was directly in front of her, reaching out and resting his hand on her shoulder.

After all he had done trying to protect her only four short years earlier, it was time to let her go. He couldn't protect her anymore. For a second, an alternate version of his daughter's life flashed before his eyes. Her own house, a husband, a little girl. Would she have been happy that way?

He shook his head. A baby at seventeen would have ruined her life, just as it was starting. She wouldn't have even remembered the pregnancy. He had saved her. He had done the right thing. She was happier this way.

Before he could force himself not to think about it, another image played out before his eyes. The man and the little girl without his daughter. Missing her. He wondered if the boy had another girlfriend by now, or maybe even a wife. He wondered if the girl thought her mother was dead. He even wondered for a moment if they were happy.

Then he reminded himself that he didn't care.

"I'll miss you, Daddy," Miley whispered, pulling her father into a hug. He wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on the top of her head. "I'll miss you too, Darlin'...so much,"

She pulled away from her father and turned around, staring off into the distance. She didn't even know where she was going, honestly. She knew her heart was leading her somewhere. Sure, going out into the world all alone with no clear direction wasn't the best idea, but she just had a feeling that everything would work out. She was twenty-one, fresh out of college, and ready to start her own life somewhere new.

She wanted to find herself. She wanted to find the piece of her life that she knew was missing.

She turned back around, facing her father for the last time before she began her journey.

"Bye, Daddy."

"Goodbye, Mile."

Flashing a fearless smile, she got into the car and started it up. She looked out the window and waved to him one last time before she drove off into the world.

Billy Ray let one single tear fall as he watched after her. He would miss her, of course. But he was also happy she was finally off to find herself. This was the whole reason he had done what he did. She would be able to have a life that she made for herself, not one that was set in stone because of some stupid teenage mistake. She could get married and have kids when she was older, when she was ready.

He quietly stepped back into the house that he now lived in alone. Suddenly it felt so very empty without Miley's laughter or the sounds of her guitar. Another unwelcome thought entered his mind and he pictured a little girl running through the hallways, laughing and singing and making messes. A little girl calling his daughter Mommy, giving her endless love. A little girl who called him Grandpa.

He shook his head. For all he knew, that boy and his daughter could both be dead. Not that it would matter if they were, because they were nothing to him. Or to his daughter. As far as she knew, they didn't exist.

He told himself again that she was better off not knowing. But for the first time in four years, he wasn't one hundred percent sure.

Just a little bit of an introduction...it gets better very soon, I promise. Reviews may make it even better though.