An- Hey Guys! Well hasn't time flied by? It seems like just yesterday I had begun writing this story, faults and all. Before I start off my ramble du jour, I just want to thank all of you reviewers once again for taking the time to read and review my story; your opinion counts and I sure of hell want to make sure you all know that. Secondly, just this in from one of the sources of One Tree Hill, CMM is quitting for good. He wants new discoveries, new and feels like he has been tied to the show long enough and judging by the looks of the next episodes to come; it seems as if North Carolina we all know and love is wrapping up for good. Thirdly, Spoiler alert: Supposedly, an accident has been reported near Peyton's old house, it involves the comet. What do you think that means? Tell me all about it; hopefully her and the baby are alright.
Anyways, I can tell you guys are a slightly too eager to get a move on with the story so therefore, I shall begin. Toodles!
Previously:
Haley kisses Peyton's forehead, suddenly feeling motherly over the blonde before turning towards the door, eyes straying from her neice laying on her hospital bed to the pregnant blonde that was soon to be her sister-in-law.
"Keep believing and don't give up hope."
With that Haley marches out of the room, not hearing Peyton say:
"Easier said than done."
Chapter 40:Rising of Hope.
Sorrow was a sentiment that ambled its way through the course of your enriching happiness, forming a path of destruction to caress you with inner misery. For Peyton Sawyer, the expressed sentiment was one that she was all too familiair with.
In the course of her previous drama-filled life to the present occuring day, she had been forced to watch her life spin as if on a heavy weighted circle, numeral days being counted again before destruction sought out for her, tearing apart everything that she worked challengingly for, tearing apart the containing remainder of her family.
Thus the reason the walls had been constructed, evidently there to keep her heart intact, to keep herself safe from the low blow that seemed to put a black hole on her heart. At the time, there was only one person that had been able to see past her guarded shadow, evidently able to see her, insecurity, vulnerability and all.
Said person was Brooke Davis.
The two held a friendship, more so a sisterly bond that was strengthening like no other. Their personalities were wholly distinct yet that was what made them clash, made them pure and strengthening.
The brunette, since she had been a mere eight year old, ponytail-haired, bubbly and highly labelled as sassy even at her minimal age, had been the only one that had been able to see past the demeanor the blonde held.
She had been there time and again when destruction struck, holding her hand and providing a shoulder to cry on as she kissed the temple of the blonde, wrapping her in a secured bear-hug, eyes fluttering shut as she attempted to momentarily drown away the darkness that enveloped her best friend.
When failing to do so, she embraced it with the blonde, wanting to fill the blonde with knowledge that she would always be there, that she didn't have to go through it alone. Which in time, applied the blonde to put slight restriction on her ' People always leave ' motto.
When it came to Brooke Davis, she always came back, whether needed or not with a shoulder to cry on and as Brooke Davis waddled in the hospital room, tear-tracks staining her cold-dim cheeks, the theory seemed to be proving itself once again.
Brooke watched, mocha brown pupils intently set on the scene between her best friend and her god-child, heart constricting wildly on her chest, halting to put a hand on her wide bulge as her eyes fluttered closed again.
She couldn't imagine the emotions that stirred up in the guarded front that her best friend had managed to set once again. The scene itself was one too purifying, too emotional to bear and she was suddenly consumed with images of her being in her best friend's shoes, the sentiments that caressed the blonde within her, diving head-first into her, the tears managed to collide with her cheeks once more just at the thought of it.
She was fed up with the scene that seemed to bounce into their lives time and time again and was once again spurred with the thoughts of how her best friend was currently feeling. Could she ever catch a break?
Brooke had observed with a heavy heart the horror movie that was her best friend's life play out too many times to count. She despised seeing her best friend so weak, so fragile, so disbelievingly vulnerable all the time, giving up on hope and the bliss life could offer her.
Her eyes sought out the eyes of the four year old laying still, no movements what so ever emitting from her and fury leered inside of her. What had she, the sassy, witty, blue-eyed child ever done to the world in order to restore her into such a dark place as she was currently being held in.
She hated that the child, at such a young age, was already experiencing the downs life had to offer, already experiencing the anguish and the despair, the rollercoaster life kept throwing her way.
She was much too young, she didn't deserve it.
They didn't deserve it, yet the cycle continued to spin reluctantly without permission anyway.
"Mama Sawyer." She breathed softly, waddling tardivly towards her friend as her toned hand sought out comfort by curling itself around Peyton's shoulder. "How is she?"
"She's getting more fatal within each day, Brooke. I just- I don't know what to do anymore."
"Keep holding on, P. " Informed the ebony haired woman, voice cracking with undeniable lacing of emotion ripping through her. " Hold on to that tight string with all your might, P. Don't release, ever."
"I feel like I already am, B-davis. " Admitted Peyton, raising her reddened eyes to face her best friend. "Do you think the universe is punishing me, like I'm some kind of skilled target dummy they play with till they break me for good. Am I that much of a bad mother?"
Wave of emotions ran through the shorter girl's body, voice soft yet peaked as she spoke. "Never again, Peyton Elisabeth Sawyer, ever! You know damn well that you are the best mother that girl has ever had, the amount of love that you hold for her, the way that girl adores you and looks up to you, the bond you two share, that's one that can't ever be denied, Peyton! "
"I'm just tired, Brooke. I'm tired of living this nightmare, Brooke. I just want to be happy, just once. Can't I ever fulfill that wish?" Pleaded the blonde, sobbing wrenchfully as she curled herself in her best friend's awaiting arms.
"Oh hunny, "Consoled the brunette, head resting on the taller girl's shoulder as her demulcent fingers feathered itself in her friend's untameable furry of curly strands. "You'll get there, hunny, someday, someday when the wheel stops turning."
"When's that, Brookie?" Hiccuped the blonde, gaping straight into the eyes of her child-hood friend. " When do you think it'll stop destructing what's left of me and finally release freedom, tell me, 'cause I really need to hear it."
The brunette could only heave a sigh, mouth repeating a show of opening and closing a few times before her shoulders slumped, kissing her friend's temple. " I- I don't know, P-Sawyer, All I know is 'someday' whenever the hell that day even is, that day will come and it will be the happiest day of your life, for you and me both."
Peyton nods with emotion-filled eyes, rumagging in her pocket to reveal an ipod filled with the inspirational songs she had been listening to all day in an attempt to help calm her emotions about the situation.
Without a word, she moves towards the child, brushing back the bangs that had grown within the time she's been here, kissing her forehead for a moment before placing the earphones on each ear of the unconcious child.
It worked for Lucas didn't it? It should work for her, too.
With that, Peyton shut her eyes, leaning into the embrace of her best friend as she finally reached her peak, the wet blur of tears hitting her pale cheeks as she shuddered with exhaustion and despair.
She finally offered herself the will to cry, just with the wrong person.
---
Keith Scott-
Loving father, Loving son, Loving Uncle, Loving fiancee, Loving friend and Loving Citizen.
May the roads of happiness and fulfillement shine upon you as you flow into the guards of heaven...
RIP.
His hands lightly grazed the tombstone he was currently gaping at, lids fluttering shut as he relished in the presence that filled the air, the gust of wind embracing him as if offering him his complete love and affection, desiring to drown away all senses of sadness that was bestowed upon him as if by magical influences.
His eyes grew misty, the mist surrounding his pupils, burning them severly as he concluded his thoughts, embracing the spirit that hung around him, offering him a sense of familiarity of the man he once knew, the priviledged man that had his life taken out of his grasp with no sense of control what so ever in the situation.
He was here, acting out his fatherly role, one of which the tortured athlete had never demeed to have in the confidements of his childhood, the deceased man that seemed to put everyone in ease, the man whose story was still a tale that people uttered till this day...
The unliving legend, his hero and the person everyone strived to be like.
Keith Scott.
He breathed a shuddering sigh, the hole in his heart developping as he ached for his uncle, his childhood guidor, the man he called a father. His head circled with thoughts of utter negativity, his hope having diminished greatly since he had been watching over his near-death embracing child.
His baby girl. His Kaylee.
It had become too much for him, to handle being in the accurate room that was surrounded with the dark walls preventing him and Peyton the right to see their lively child once again, expecially with the knowledge that he couldn't shred those walls apart.
The room held immense tension, deafening silence hanging around them as they focused on solely one person, one girl. His emotions had escalated, skyrocketed to a new high and he fleed, instantly feeling the eyes burning a hole through him as they watched his peculiar moves, knowing that he had only managed to break her heart, more than it had already been deemed to be.
He knew it was erroneous, knew that it was an act of utter selfishness considering his part had only decided to think of himself yet he couldn't help himself. It was the inner child inside of him, the inner child that once longed for Dan Scott to finally acknowledged him for being half of him, his son.The inner child that longed to go back to the days of his childhood where he was surrounded by those of which he loved and adored, even the invisible shadow that was Peyton Sawyer.
He yearned for his uncle, desiring nothing more than for his uncle to be comforting him in the flesh, instead of taunting him with his spirit that even dead was claimed with utter gentleness and kindness.
He yearned for the days before the accident, when he and his fiancee were mirthful, joyous, complete with their little family, their four year old girl smiling bashfully at them.
He yearned for the child herself, period. The child that he had fallen in love with, within the first minute he laid eyes on her, the first time his eyes locked with her sparkling mimical eyes of wonder.
His forehead met the brisk, harsh, brick exterior of the tombstone that nestled the non-living body of his deceased uncle. Pupils directing themselves to the blasphemous sky as he spoke, voice laced with fatigue, wounding heartbreak, lack of guidance.
"Where do I go from here?" He inquired, brow crinkled as always as he remained deep in thought. "Where do I go from here, Keith?"
"You retreat straight back into that nutty hospital that's what." Barked the noise from the presence creeping behind him. The voice startled Lucas, him rushing his eyes open as he frantically turned around, shoulders relaxing as he gaped at the familiar man that offered advice when needed in his high-school days.
"Whitey-"
"Now don't you Whitey me, boy." Threatned the elderly man, cane gripped by his hands as he set his jaw, gazing straight into the eyes of the younger man. "I may be too darn old to expell you but I can give you a good ole' beating in the head if that's what it takes to have you high-tailing out of 'ere. Do you know how many people are worried sick about you?"
Lucas cast his eyes downwards, shame and remorse pounding through him causing Whitey to seethe in anger.
"Your mother is darn near hallucinating to her wits end with worry for you, boy. Your friends are just about ready to ring a search party out for ya and Peyton, well this has her spiralling down another winded road of depression."
Guilt evoked him, visualising the images that are currently placed on those of which he loves. "I'm sorry."
Whitey sends him a compassionate glance, already knowing how the younger man felt, he had felt the feelings before, he practically survived off of it. "Now I know this waiting game is majoring a major side effect on ya, and I know your fed up and losing hope, Lucas. It's natural and all humans end up here in some point and time."
The elder man placed a sympathetic hand on the shoulder of the team-mate he called a son. "When I lost Camilla, however heartbreaking that was, I was just like you, blaming myself, taunting myself, feeling worthless and tearing those of which I cared about away from me in an attempt of avoiding pain. I still felt it anyway."
He paused, clearing his throat as battling of emotions suddenly provoked him. "You have all these people, all these individuals that love you like no other, waiting on you, worrying about you while your toying with their sanity. You have to go back, console that fiancee of yours and deal with the pain together, the scene you've formed for yourself is just tearing her apart, her and the rest of them people that care for you. "
"It's just- it's hard." He barely chokes out. " It's like the more I step in that hospital room, the more the situation feels real and I just- I don't think I can handle it."
"Well then force your sorry ass to handle it anyway." He hollers, clasping the younger man on the back. "Kaylee needs her parents together, united, to overcome that power, to build the power to be released from the inner shells that are blocking her path way back to you; your the only one standing in her way, your the one block that's preventing her from coming back."
"What if she leaves... just like Keith." He thinks aloud softly, reluctance rushing through him as he innerly cringes, the thought providing a sinking feeling to arise in his stomach.
"Keith never left you, boy. He's still here, providing comfort and guidance for you whenever you need it, his spirit still watching over those of which he loves intently. His body may have faded yet his spirit never does, all you have to do is dig deep and you'll find him and as for Kaylee... well.. she'll come back, its not her time yet.. she's got a hell of a lot more to live for before she joins her grandparents in the praising heavens."
Whitey ruffles his blonde hair, patting his cheek affectionately before marching back to the direction he came from, pausing momentarily to send the boy one last glance. "Open your eyes, boy."
Open your eyes, Luke. Open your eyes.
And a wet, salty tear hits Lucas's cheek as he concludes that this time, Keith had been the one to voice his all too familiar quote this time; and as the words circled his mind, its exactly what he did.
--
Her mind is jumbled with thoughts, the course of the day taunting her with hatred, despair, sadness, longing. The white walls is what she gapes at and a sinking feeling arises through her chest.
She's always repulsed hospitals, having had a strong-disliking over the place since the day the hospital, this exact hospital decided to take away the life of her mother, both of them. Nevertheless, to her, the hospital was a common death wish.
It hauled innocent, vulnerable people under its wing, hiring its employee's to offer them momentary care which normally resulted with the patient ending its life, anyhow. Leaving an immense burden and recognizable setiment that everyone experience at one point and period of time; she should know, she had been placed there many times.
People labelled her as fierce, independent, strong... a fighter if you call it yet if you were to question her, what she thought of herself, her answer would be the exact opposite. To herself she was weak, independent, vulnerable, a cause of imperfections and destruction.
She was weak because to her, she let weakness throw her down, let weakness envelop her whenever life became too ambitious, too difficult for her to handle, hence the many theories she had provided for herself.
She was independent because she was always dependent on someone else whenever needed. Brooke, Nathan, Lucas, etc. There was always someone, there, lending a hand or a peice of their heart to rebuild her back to normal, to bounce her back to familiarity, to comfort, to short-living happiness.
She was vulnerable because one slight fetish, one little action could break her into a million peices, shatter her fragile heart and send it withering away into nothing, a factor of hers she despised since she had arrived into the world, wailing incessantly, fists curling as they thrust into mid-air, green eyes wide-open as they observed the world she had currently been nestled into with inquisitive eyes.
She was imperfection in evident ways, destruction practically embezzled within her, labelling herself as someone placed into the world to destroy and hurt the ones she loved. She knew the thoughts she held of herself were exaggeration, the truth having been thrown out the window moments ago yet currently, this was all she could form up to think and for now, it seemed like her thoughts of herself proved her right.
Her green eyes, those of which were as of late, sparkling glamourously, winning the hearts of those of which she didn't know and earning possesion of those of which she did remained emotionless, intently watching the outdoors as the rain poured harshly, splash of water colliding with the hard ground, lulling her into somewhat comforting sensation.
Her eyes sought out her partner in crime, the one that knew her best yet the one that kept pushing her away, the blonde, blue-eyed Scott that connected with her with a connection that most couldn't find, her spiritual twin, Lucas Scott.
She wondered how he was, wondered if he was okay after not having seen him since earlier that morning. His actions combined with the sentiments she held for the current situation involving her first born was one powerful, deep, painful that seemed to tear away at her heart. It seemed like the only one she had control over was the little one, bless he who is nestled inside of her, and she was coming up with the thought that that priveledge, was slowly tearing away from her tightful grasp as well.
Tears swarmed her face, her blinking with difficulty as the tears evoked fire in her eyes, the mist burning her pupils as she attempted to view her surroundings. Hope was slowly drowning from her face, colour draining along with it as acceptance rose through her.
Her daughter wasn't wakening and she had to accept it.
And then, just when she was about to sign the last amount of hope she held to the devil, squeaky footsteps could be heard, pounding loudly into her ears causing her to whip around slowly due to her current state.
As if it were a movie, a scene that was only seen on T.V and not realistically, the man she had been yearning for, her fiancee, the father of her son, stood at the doorway dripping wet, her green pupils meeting his blue ones as they gaped at each other, as if really seeing, acknowledging the other for the first time.
Hope evoked within her, awaking her as she gaped into his eyes, observing the flurry of emotions that lay in them, revealing itself to her yet the one that stood out to her the most, hope and love.
And it was as if a powerful force drew them to each other as they rushed into the other's embrace, tears colliding with the demulcent feel of their shirt material as they remained in each other's arms, offering the other their comfort, dealing together, as one.
Sentiments united, hearts united, human individuals united and it was as if a heavy weight they hadn't known they had been carrying had graciously been lifted from their shoulders, as they relished in each other.
The tension broke, discomfort cowering away as the couple simply held each other in their arms, foreheads aligned together. Lucas fluttered his eyes open, meeting her eyes as he spoke.
"I'm sorry." He said, kissing the whole of her face, her earlobe, her temple, her untameable hair as he buried his nose in them. " I-God, I'm sorry, Peyt."
"I-It's okay." She retorted, breathing in his scent, his manly scent, simply estatic that he was back, her Lucas, her man and the love of her life was back.
"No its, not. I keep pushing you away, whenever things get rough I flee and enter into this world of denial, completely forgetting about you. I just- I'm sorry, I-I can't live without you, Peyt. I can't lose you."
He admitted, tears springing into his eyes with such emotion causing Peyton to mimick his actions, pulling back slightly to cradle his face in her hands, their gaze never wavering.
"Not a chance in hell. " She informed him. " Never a chance in hell will you ever lose me, Luke. You have me, I'm yours to keep and I plan on staying. Regardless the situation we find ourselves in."
And he nods, burying himself in his embrace, relishing in her words. He needed to hear that, he already knew it, yet he needed her to voice those words to put him at ease, to reassure him that she'd always be there, his Peyton, she'd always come back to him, just like he'd always come back to him and no force in the world could alter that.
"What brought you back to me?" She muses, placing her head on his chest, eyes fluttering shut with exasperation.
"A good beating in the head from two men that I hadn't seen in a long time, figuratively speaking." He shoots back, watching as a slight smile appears on the face of Peyton, head casted upwards at him as she casts him a lopsided smile. The look is enough to tell him she knows just who he's talking about.
"Thank Keith and Whitey for me, sometime." She voices lazily, him nodding in response telling her he will. The two move to the bed, drawing in a long breath as they encounter the sight of their unconcious child once again before plopping down uncomfortably , eyeing her stilling movements as they let the still silence surround them.
Minutes later, the sound of Peyton's soft lulling breath's flow into his ears and his eyes cast downwards to catch sight of his exhaused fiancee sleeping, one hand draped over the child that layed inside of her as the baby kicked to no end.
The view itself provides incessant hope rendering itself inside his body and for the first time that day, Lucas smiles.
Atleast one of the Scott kids are alright.
Within minutes afterwards, Lucas finds himself battling off exhaustion himself, heavy filled lids fluttering shut as he drapes an arm around his pregnant wife, pulling her in closer, wanting nothing more than to feel her, to acknowledge that she's still there, battling the darkness alongside him, his other hand tucked tightly in the cold, petite hand that belonged to his four year old.
He falls in deep, soft snores vibrating through the room indicating that he had finally buried himself in the atmosphere around him and had fallen asleep, worries still consuming him yet pitying him in that fleeting point of time.
The sound of slight movements from beneath the sheets rear into his ear yet he brushes it off, instantly labelling it as a figment of his imagination. He shifts in his sleep, careful of his girls as he tries to drown out the sound yet it continues, growing stronger, louder and harsher. It's only when he feels a forceful squeeze on his hand that his eyes jolt open, him suddenly more alert and awake then he's ever been in his life.
He hears slight grunting and moaning and that in itself makes curiosity flush through him, him daring to whip around to meet the cause of the noise.
Relief, joy, mirthfulness and more emotion than he could even bear to express rushes through him all at once as his eyes catch sight of the person, the one person that has made his complete day seem brighter, happier by one sudden movement; he blinks disbelievingly, hoping this isn't some dream that would have him spiralling back into depression once again.
"Daddy." She croaks out, her voice rough and raspy as she lets out a slight cough yet he thinks he's never seen anything more beautiful or heard anything more significant than the words she let herself murmur.
With that, Lucas feels the emotions take a wild turn on him, his cheeks collding with the incredulous tears, mind replaying the incroyable day that was called his life. The father reaches out and grasps the four year old, cradling her as if she were some fragile little thing that could disappear beneath his wing, tears running a mile a minute as he gasps with joy.
"Don't ever leave me again."