Chapter One Hundred Eleven: I Wanted To Believe

Author's note: Someone requested a list of all the kids, so here it is with their ages.

Haley and Nathan:

Eva Elizabeth Scott (Eve), seven

Nina Larisa Scott, six

Nathaniel Kaden Scott (Kade), three

Brooke and Lucas have:

Devon Keith Scott, nine

Hayden Lucas Scott, eight

Connor Lee Scott, three

Zoe Christiana Scott, one

Brooke is pregnant.

Ryan and Jake:

Jamie Lara Jagielski-Scott, three

Peyton waited anxiously on the stoop of the Manhattan apartment building, praying he still lived here. Praying he no longer lived here with her.

When another ring proved fruitless, she slipped inside as a tenant entered, and ran up the two flights of stairs. She'd lived here for a year, almost ten years previously. It still felt like home.

She knocked impatiently on the door until he answered it.

"Hey," he said, opening it. He looked down.

Peyton looked down at her feet and swallowed nervously. It had been five years. Longer. It had been a lifetime. She looked up nervously to meet his brown eyes, wishing she could still read his heart.

"Come in," he said shakily.

Peyton stared on the couch, a different one than the one they'd had.

"How've you been?" she asked.

"Where've you been? It's been five years," he said in disbelief.

"Europe. South America, for a while," she shrugged. He stared. She was acting as if this was nothing. As if he should be used to hanging out with his soulmate in the apartment he shared with his daughter and her mother.

"Did you miss me?" he asked, the words rising unbidden to his lips.

"Of course." She looked into his brown eyes absorbing their depth, his scent. "Every day."

Jake was silent for a second, consdering this. He couldn't do anything about it, even if he wanted to. He couldn't touch her, love her, marry her. He'd signed her away. She couldn't be anything to him. He wasn't sure he wanted her to be.

He wasn't even sure if he still needed her.

His eyes wideneded as Ryan came through the door, pulling the baby stoller with her. He leapt up and Peyton sent him a look of amazement.

"Ryan! Jay! You're back!" he said. Ryan looked shocked and hurt for a second before reparing her face.

"Peyton. Hi," she said stiffly. She lifted her daughter out of her stroller and held her on her hip almost defiantly.

"Wow. Wow. She's... yours?" asked Peyton, her voice getting gradually higher as she spoke. Ryan sent Jake another hurt look. He quickly decided to repair the damage in favour of the woman he'd spent the last ten years with.

"Ours," he said, putting a hand (a left, non ring baring hand) on her shoulder.

Peyton slowly approached, her eyes on the child. The child that should have been hers. God, she almost could have been. Jamie's hair was curly and blonde, in Ryan's lighter, natural colour. Her eyes were Jake's.

She was beautiful.

"She's perfect," noted Peyton cheerfully. Ryan's eyes shone, feeling at once remorseful for a girl who'd tried so hard to let her love be happy.

"This isn't the best time Peyton, but we'd love to catch up. Do you want to come to dinner some night this week?" she asked, trying to sound earnest and not catty. Peyton nodded.

"I'd like that. Much less intense than seeing... everyone. Don't tell them, okay? How many kids are there now?" she asked.

"Uh, seven? Devon, Hayden, Evie, Nina, Connor, Kade and Zoë . And Jay, of course," said Ryan. Peyton nodded, looking distracted, before darting out of the apartment. Ryan turned helplessly to Jake.

"What was that? Is she back? Are you getting back together? What about Jamie? She doens't need another mother, she needs her parents. Remember how she hurt you Jake? Remember?" she asked, her voice faltering, tears beginning to flood her eyes. Jake reached out, took Jamie from her arms, set her on the floor and pulled Ryan in to his own arms.

As her petite body shook with sobs he held her tightly, grounding her, keeping her with him. As fear and doubt rose in her, he kissed away her tears, telling her he needed her. As her terror ran through her, he scared it away.

"I'm not about to leave you, baby," he said.

"Ever," she said, as firmly as her shaken voice was able.

"Ever," he agreed, squeezing her emphatically. "I wouldn't have had Jamie with you if I didn't think I could stick around. Maybe this isn't true love, but it's the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Ryan sniffled, and thought briefly of her time before him.

"Yeah. Me too."

Peyton walked home, blindly stepping onto a busy road and pulling back as the roar of traffic sounded in her ears. She wasn't used to this. She was used to South American children asking to have their pictures taken. She was used to putting together houses and shopping for knockoff bags and tribal jewellry in Buenos Aires. Not honks, or sirens. It was too much. She wanted to go home.

But she didn't know quite where home was anymore.

She shakily flagged down a taxi and rode to her apartment. She turned her face away from Nathan and Haley's house as they passed, unwilling for another glimpse of their perfect, red cheeked children, boundless in their health and happiness. It was all too much.

She'd never imagined that upon leaving behind her world, it would continue on without her.

There was nowhere she could go. Not to loyal Brooke, or devoted Lucas, or tragic Haley or impassive Nathan. There was no one to save her.

Peyton slowly walked up to the apartment building, wishing desperately for the hot South American sun instead of the stiff, dirty air of Manhattan. It was no longer beautiful to her.

She rode silently up the elevtor.

There was no one to save her. So she went back to the one person that had always been there, in the oddest, most abstract way she'd ever known.

"Hey, you're home. What do you think, black pumps or red stilettos?" asked Davis Ryan, coming in to the main room. Peyton smiled falsely and leaned against the door.

Right then, she wanted nothing more than to just go back to the beginning.