A/N: You didn't beat your review record, but you're still the greatest reviewers ever. Thank you, everyone, for all your positivity, I really do love you for it. I've got big things planned for this story, and it always helps to know that you're sticking with me. A lot of you predicted that Jenny would run to the river court and find Lucas...well, you were partially right. There are two things that I'd like you to do after you finish reading this:

1) Leave me a review because you're awesome.

2) Go to YouTube - right now, I mean it - and type in "one tree hill season five gag reel", posted by one of those nice people who got a copy of season 5 on DVD early due to retail screw-ups. Joy and Hilarie are adorably funny together, and Paul will crack you up, too.

Miserere: a Latin term, literally: "have mercy", it is often used to title plaintive, haunting Italian pieces written to correspond with or inspired by Biblical passages

Jenny bolted from Tric as fast as her feet would carry her and didn't look back. She marched down the streets of Tree Hill determinedly, trying as hard as she could to avoid the shadows cast by the night and the eerie, paranoid feeling they gave her. She'd never handled darkness well.

She felt relief flood her body when she spotted light falling across the pavement from around a corner. Cautiously, she approached the bend and peeked around it. A grassy field surrounded a paved basketball court with metal-netted hoops. Lights flooded the area and spotlighted the sole figure, a boy about her age, who was shooting hoops in sweats and a t-shirt.

She sighed and smiled at the nonthreatening sight. Quietly, covered by the night, she made her way to the court, watching him the entire time. The sound of a basketball bouncing and the jangling of the metal as the ball swished through the hoop gave her a solitary sense of the kind of peacefulness she associated with home.

The boy took a shot. The ball arced perfectly through the air, but ended up hitting the backboard and rebounding at a violent speed over to where Jenny stood. Without thinking, she grabbed it and took her own shot. The ball flew up and into the basket.

"Jenny," a happily shocked voice said, and her eyes flew over to the boy only to find that it was Jordan Lynd. "Hey."

She gave him a soft smile in return. "Hey."

He studied her for a moment. "Are you breaking curfew?"

"I didn't know we had one," she countered, arching her eyebrows. She nodded toward the ball, which had rolled back over to Jordan's feet. "You wanna play?"

"Play…ball?"

"No, truth or dare," she said sarcastically with a roll of her eyes. "Yes, ball," she laughed. "What, you can't handle a girl beating you?"

He appraised her and grinned. "I think I can handle your game."

"We'll see about that," she replied smoothly, snatching the ball up from his feet and sending another ball into the basket with practiced ease.

He caught her rebound and dunked as though he felt it necessary to redeem himself. "You're pretty good."

"That surprises you, huh?"

Jordan simply shrugged and tossed her the ball. He bent down, concentrating on her as he prepared to block any of her moves. She grinned and faked him out easily, casually tossing the basketball up and scoring another three-pointer.

"You're really good," he marvelled.

"Yep." She wasn't in a conversational mood; she just wanted to play and get out some of her stress.

"Where'd you learn?" Jordan prodded. Had anyone else asked her that question at that moment, she wouldn't have been pleased, but there was something so genuine about his curiosity that she couldn't be angry.

"My dad and I used to play a lot when I was younger."

"Cool; my dad taught me, too. You guys still play?"

She shook her head. "He's not in my life anymore," she replied, looking down at the asphalt beneath their feet.

"I'm sorry. Is that why you're so upset?"

"Excuse me?" she asked.

He grinned abashedly. "I know you're not supposed to say this to a girl, but you look like hell."

"Thanks, Jordan," she told him, making a face.

"You know what I mean," he said with such kindness it surprised her. "What's going on, Jenny?"

She dropped the ball and crossed her arms. "I just found out that…my mom…isn't actually my mom."

He whistled. "Damn. That sucks."

"I just…I can't believe she kept that from me. I don't think my dad would have let her, or that…he would have wanted her to. But then…my mom – Peyton," she amended, "told me that my real mother basically abandoned me, and used me to get to my dad. So now…I kind of feel like an idiot for blowing up at her, but she hurt me, too, and…" She exhaled shakily. "I would really just like to talk to my dad, you know? To find out what's real and what the truth is."

"Sure. That makes sense," Jordan said sweetly. "You have any idea how to contact him?"

A bitter laugh escaped her lips. "No," she whispered, and looked up at him sadly. He just looked so nice and perfect standing there that part of her wanted to kiss him, and another part of her just didn't went to have to deal with feeling anything anymore. "Sorry for unloading all of this on you," she muttered, scuffing the toe of her shoe.

Jordan shrugged. "Happy to listen." After a beat, he bounced the ball over to her and she caught it automatically, looking up at him quizzically. He smiled softly. "Let's play. Twenty-one."


Brooke paced Nathan and Haley's relatively clean home impatiently. About thirty seconds after Haley walked out the front door; she walked back in and cried, "You'll stay here with the kids, right? Thanks!" and rushed back out before Brooke could even open her mouth to protest.

She glanced at the clock, coming to terms with the fact that Nathan, Haley, and Peyton probably wouldn't be returning any time soon. Miranda needed to go to bed, and Lucas would be wondering where she was.

Lucas. Her husband. Her husband who'd once been hopelessly in love with Peyton. She frowned as she pulled out her cell phone, unsure of what to tell him. The truth seemed like the obvious option, but she wasn't sure that it was in her best interest. She speed-dialled their home number and decided to just blurt out whatever she thought was best after she heard his voice.

"Hey. You figure out the big mystery?" he asked by way of greeting, his tone playful.

"Hey back. Um, no, but…listen, Nate and Haley had to run out, so I'm kind of stuck babysitting for a bit. Miranda really needs to sleep so…it might be best if we just stay here overnight. I'm really not sure how long they'll be; we can just crash in the guest room." That was a good plan. There was no chance of Lucas encountering Peyton, and Brooke would be there the minute her friends arrived home so that she could get the story.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. Sure. It's fine."

"Do you want me to come over there, too? I could crash on the couch and let you and Mira have the bed." he suggested.

"No!" she cried. More calmly, she repeated, "No. This isn't a big deal at all. You write, Broody, and get some sleep. I'll see you tomorrow." She didn't add the three words that would usually follow a parting statement. She wanted him to say it first.

"Okay. I love you."

She let out the breath she hadn't known she was holding. "Love you, too," she replied softly before snapping her phone closed and tossing it back into her purse.

She walked upstairs and down the hallway to the room the six-year-olds shared. "Hey, handsome boys," she greeted them with a wide smile. They were just so irresistible. She crouched down and opened her arms for a hug.

They both jumped up to fling their little arms around her neck. "Auntie Brooke!" Nick cried delightedly. "I missed you."

"Aw, honey, you saw me like three days ago," she laughed. "But thank you. Hey, Noah. How're you doing?"

He gave her that precious small smile. "Good."

Brooke released them both, her smile still a permanent fixture on her face. "Hey, Mira, baby…time for bed. You boys, too."

"Are we going home?"

"Are Mommy and Daddy coming to tuck us in?"

"Ten more minutes, Aunt Brooke, please?"

"Nope, bedtime," Brooke told them briskly. "Put down the toys and crawl in; I'm going to tuck you in tonight, I'm babysitting. Miranda and I are staying here."

"Yay!" Nick cheered as he hopped into bed.

Brooke kissed the foreheads of both the adorable little boys. They were a little hyped up, but she could see how heavy their eyelids were. They'd fall asleep soon enough. She flicked on their nightlight and extended a hand to her little girl, who was dressed in her pyjama pants and a tiny Clothes over Bro's hoodie. "Come on, sweetie, time for sleep."

Miranda took her hand obediently, waving goodnight to her cousins as they left the room. "This is like a sleepover," she said happily.

"Yeah," Brooke agreed, picking her up and cuddling her, nuzzling their noses together to make Miranda giggle. "I'm going to borrow pyjamas from Auntie Haley, and we'll sleep in the guest room, and have pancakes for breakfast," she said enthusiastically. Balancing her daughter on one hip, she opened the door to the guest room and stopped in her tracks.

The minimal décor in the room screamed of Peyton, and the half-opened, rummaged-through suitcases indicated a recent arrival. It hadn't even occurred to Brooke that Peyton might be staying with Brooke's siblings-in-law – she thought that, at the very least, they would have told her that. She shook her head. It wasn't like Haley to lie.

She carefully set Miranda down and took a couple tentative steps into the room. There was a leather jacket flung carelessly onto the bed, along with a couple pairs of jeans and a purple shirt. A poster of a band Brooke didn't recognize was sticky-tacked to the wall, a little bit crookedly. The dresser was already messily crowded with everyday grooming items: deodorant, flat iron, hair elastics, eye drops, lip gloss, mascara, and a collection of appropriately out-there jewellery.

The CDs on the corner of the dresser were what caught Brooke's eye. She picked them up and flipped them over to read through the songs, looking for anything she recognized. One of the CDs was familiar to her – Tegan and Sara, the same stuff she and Peyton had listened to back in high school. She smiled to herself. She normally hated how things never seemed to change, how life seemed to be stuck in a demented pattern, but this one piece of the girl she'd once known provided her with a strange comfort.

Underneath the CDs was a small pile of photographs. Brooke set the discs aside and picked them up gingerly. A group of teenagers looked back at her, mid-laugh when the picture was taken. The next picture consisted of a smaller group of two girls and one guy, draped all over each other, the girls leaning in jokingly on either side to kiss the guy's cheeks. She frowned. No one in the pictures looked familiar to her; then again, she didn't exactly know anything about Peyton's life anymore. She flipped through a couple more shots packed with happy, relatively innocent, good-looking teens before coming to a picture that made her heart skip a beat.

Peyton. Peyton and Jake, to be more accurate, clearly unaware that the photograph was being taken. It had to have been taken in high school, because the two of them looked exactly as Brooke remembered. They were at a party, it appeared, but neither of them held cups – it gave Brooke the distinct impression that the sweetly smitten expressions they were wearing were the result of genuine emotion, not alcohol. They were sitting close together on someone's beaten up couch, Peyton basically in Jake's lap, their limbs tangled together. He was leaning close to her as though he'd been whispering, and must have just said something amusing, because she was laughing, her eyes bright. Their noses touched.

The picture was aged, ripped a little at the corners, and had clearly been kept by its owner for years, hidden away in some secret place. It proved that her assumption had been correct: after professing her love for Brooke's boyfriend, Peyton had run back to Jake. But even Brooke, who was still a little bitter about everything, couldn't deny how happy they looked, how completely in love with each other they were. Had Peyton ever really loved Lucas, or had it just been some kind of sick habit? And if it was a habit, why was it one that Brooke feared so much?

"Mommy? Are we sleeping in here?" Mira peered up at her expectantly with sleepy, curious eyes.

Brooke looked back at her apologetically. "I'm sorry, honey, I don't know…I thought…" There was no way to explain the situation to her five-year-old. She placed the photograph down only to find one last one behind it. Peyton, in present time, with her cheek pressed up to that of a blonde teenager Brooke recognized from the earlier photos. One of them was obviously taking the picture, she could tell from the way they leaned together. The happiness was evident not in their smiles, but their eyes. With the kind of care one attributed to breakable objects, Brooke flipped it over to read the flawlessly cool writing on the back: I guess you say: what can make me feel this way? My girl. Happy fourteenth, babe. She recognized the song lyrics, of course, and she most certainly recognized the handwriting.

She squinted at the picture in frustration. Was the girl with the deep, intense eyes and mess of blonde hair Peyton's daughter? Was she living with the Scotts for some unknown reason? How could Peyton's daughter possibly be fourteen, that would mean that Peyton would have had to have had a child secretly while she and Brooke were still the best of friends, when they were only –

And then, all the puzzle pieces fell into place so perfectly that Brooke was shocked at her own stupidity. Of course. The photograph of Jake and Peyton said it all.

Little Jenny Jagielski, the cutest kid Brooke had seen at that time in her life when she'd known Jake's baby, all grown up and very much like the woman who had clearly raised her. And she'd obviously inherited talent from her hot, used-to-be-single dad: she was Haley's camper kid, the kid Nathan had upset so badly, and the kid who was currently missing.

"Whoa," she muttered. Okay, so Jenny was there, but why had Peyton come with her? Where was Jake? Were they both staying with Nathan and Haley?

"Mommy?" Miranda pouted, shifting her weight from one foot to the other impatiently. "I wanna go to sleep."

"Yeah, sweetie, of course you do. I'm sorry. Come here," she said lovingly, lifting her daughter up again. Miranda was getting too big for her to carry, but Brooke needed to hold her. There was something about Peyton's reappearance that filled her with insecurity, and since she'd become a mother, her insecurity tended to present itself in the form of protectiveness.

"I love you," Miranda murmured spontaneously, the way only a little kid can. She rested her small head of wavy brown hair against Brooke's collarbone and closed her eyes.

"You, too," Brooke told her fondly as she laid her out across one the couches. She snatched up a throw that had been carelessly flung onto a chair and tucked her daughter in with great precision and care. "Sleep tight, princess."

Even though she'd eaten ice cream with Miranda while she worked, she was in desperate need for some more. She raided the Scott freezer and found a plentiful supply, essential in a house with four energetic boys. She filled a bowl with strawberry cheesecake flavoured ice cream and grabbed a spoon out of the drawer. Nathan and Haley's house was as familiar to her as her own. They were her family.

She curled up on the couch opposite the one her daughter laid on and just watched her baby breathe as she ate. She felt a little as though she were mourning some sort of loss. She knew it was stupid, but when it came to Lucas, Peyton may as well have had a flashing neon sign above her head that declared: DANGER. And the fact of the matter was that Nathan and Haley had kept her return a secret. If she'd learned anything from Lucas' life philosophies, it was that keeping something secret indicated something larger at work, and it generally came accompanied by a sense of foreboding. It scared her to think it, but it was the one thought that was haunting her mind: had Peyton come back for Luke?

Brooke wondered if she was being self-absorbed. Maybe Peyton had just come with Jenny so that she could go back home and see everyone again. But couldn't she have called Brooke? Her supposed best friend? Her supposed best friend who also happened to be married to the boy who'd once captured Peyton's heart in an intense, epic way. The mere thought of their romance made Brooke want to scream.

After two bites, she got so frustrated that she lost interest in her ice cream and set it aside, crossing her arms across her chest and staring at the wall of the living room. Haley spent nearly a month making the entirely bare wall of the room into something beautiful when she was on maternity leave after Sebastian's birth. It was completely covered in glass-framed black-and-white photographs, and it was one of Brooke's favourite things to look at. She loved the combination of posed family photos mixed with the completely random but sweet. After having looked at the wall countless times, she could easily pick out her favourites. In the very middle, Nathan and Haley beaming with their four beautiful boys. On the right near the bottom, ten-year-old Haley planting a kiss on eleven-year-old birthday boy Lucas' cheek. Just to the left of the middle, Brooke hugging Haley, her maid of honour, tightly, right before she walked down the aisle to Luke. Up near the top, Jamie giving Miranda a piggyback.

In the top right corner was one picture that never came up in conversation, and that they'd only ever talked about once, right after Haley unveiled her masterpiece to the all. Brooke had climbed up on a chair so to better look at the pictures that were way up high, and had lost her breath for a moment when her eyes settled on the inconspicuous three-by-five tucked neatly away in the top corner. Peyton leaning back happily against Lucas' chest in their junior year of high school, his arms wrapped around her comfortingly, yet possessively. Haley snuck into the picture at the last second, wearing that ugly-ass poncho of hers, to give Lucas bunny ears, and both Peyton and Luke were looking up at her, laughing delightedly.

When she'd noticed it, Haley pulled up a step stool next to her so that they could be at the same level as they spoke. Haley's hand landed gently on her shoulder as she said softly, "I'm sorry. It was the only picture of her that I had, and it just seemed so…wrong…for her not to be there." After a pause in which Brooke didn't respond, "Don't let it bother you, okay? I miss her. She's a friend, so she deserves to be there. Luke loves you."

"I know," Brooke had replied just as softly, and covered the wave of jealousy she'd felt over with sadness: "I just miss her, too."

Now, the sight of that shot and the gentle purity of the happiness on the faces of the deeply connected boy and girl made her frown. Lucas had promised to love her forever.

But she knew for a fact that he'd once made the same promise to the girl he held close in the picture that mocked her.

You're mine forever.

A picture is worth a thousand words. Considering the photographs Brooke had found that evening, the old adage had never been so true.

The only problem was that she had no sweet clue what any of the words were.


Haley kept glancing over at Peyton worriedly as they coasted through the late-night quiet of the streets of Tree Hill. Peyton was unpredictable behind the wheel in the first place, so Haley had refused to let her drive considering her friend's currently messy emotions.

Peyton looked around, struggling to appear calm as she wiped away the tears that kept slipping out of her eyes. "Watch the road, Haley," she said dryly.

She blushed. "Sorry. Just have a little faith, okay? She's fine, I know it."

Peyton didn't take her eyes off the surrounding area, nor did she speak. Haley's heart went out to her. Haley had lost Jamie when he was five for about thirty seconds in the grocery store, and she'd though that she'd die if she didn't see him again. Mothers worried, she knew that for a fact, and Peyton was no different.

"Let's swing by the river court and see if she made her way there, okay? It's pretty close to Tric."

"Chris probably already looked there, then," Peyton said faintly.

"Chris…Keller?" She could hardly believe that he'd be willing to help Peyton out. Then again, he had confessed that he was interested in her. There'd been an innocence in Chris' infatuation that had made her uneasy. It was hard to her to really believe that he earnestly, honestly liked Peyton, but if he was willing to help her search for her child…

She sighed impatiently. "How many Chris' do we both know?" she snapped, and then buried her face in her hands again. "God, I'm sorry, I'm just…she has to be okay, Hales," she said, her voice shaking. "She's all I've got."

Haley reached over to give her hand a squeeze. "She's okay, Peyton. You've got to believe that."


"Oh, was that…twenty-one?" Jenny asked innocently, smirking as she extended her arms to catch her rebound.

Jordan chuckled. "Yeah, it was."

"So…what does that mean, exactly?" she questioned, arching her eyebrows. She wanted to hear him say it.

"I think it means you win."

"Ah. Yeah. That's right, it does," she grinned. Her brief game of b-ball with Jordan had really taken her mind off the hell she'd just gone through. He was funny and sweet, and actual competition for her. It'd been a close game. "Don't lie…" she began, eyeing him seriously, "but did you let me win?" It would do wonders for her self-worth if he hadn't.

He grinned back at her, looking a little embarrassed. "You don't know how badly I wish I had. You kicked my ass."

"Nah," she responded happily. "You're really good." She bounced the ball back over to him.

"Oh, well, coming from you that means so much," he teased, making her laugh. "Listen, Jenny, I gotta get back. Drew – my mentor – will freak out if I'm out too late."

"Yeah, sure. Of course." The smile that had come so easily moments before seemed a lot more difficult to muster up. She still didn't know what to do or where to go, and she wished she could just stay lost in the game and this boy.

"You want me to walk you home?" he offered.

She shook her head. "I think I might stay here for a little bit."

Jordan took a couple steps toward her. "Listen, Jenny…I had a lot of fun with you tonight. It was really good seeing you smile, and I'd really like to hang out again. But…that's not going to happen if I leave you here to be kidnapped and murdered. Let me walk you home."

She blushed and looked down at her shoes. "I'd like that. But I can't go home. I don't even…know where home is right now, and even if I did…I'm not sure I'd like to be there."

He frowned, concern slipping into the creases of his face. "I gotta get back, but I can't leave you here."

"No, go. I'll be fine."

"Jenny. Don't be stupid."

Her stubborn side, a trait she always assumed she'd inherited genetically from her mother, took hold of her as she stuck out her chin defiantly. "Not leaving."

They stood there, at a stalemate, for quite a while. She didn't mind; she appreciated the chance to just look at him.

The roar of a car's engine broke their peaceful trance. They both turned to look as two women spilled out of it and rushed over, wearing immensely relieved expressions.

"Jenny!" Peyton cried.

Jordan reached out and gave her shoulder a sympathetic squeeze, his eyes kind. "I'll be seein' ya," he told her quietly before tucking his ball under his arms, and, smart boy that he was, getting out of there as fast as his feet would carry him.

Jenny could tell just from looking at Peyton that she was aching to hug her, and in truth, Jenny wouldn't have minded that hug too much. But she had more pride than that. "What?" she snapped.

"Honey…I know you're upset with me, and I know I've made mistakes, but you can't just disappear on me, you know better than that!"

Her mother – adoptive mother, she supposed – looked so broken that Jenny wanted to cry. She just wanted to fall in her arms and let Peyton tell her that everything was going to be okay. Her mom was everything to her when it came to family. They almost never fought, and this rift was hard for her to take. "I know," she said softly.

"Will you please come home with me, babe? We can talk, I promise you, really talk. I'll tell you whatever you need to know." Her eyes were pleading. "I'm so sorry, Jen. But you need to know that I love you like you're my own daughter, and I honestly think that I have since the first day I saw you. And that's never going to change."

Jenny felt her chin quivering like she was three years old again, and her mother, sensing her near-breakdown, opened her arms slightly, extending the offer of comfort. "I can't," she said sadly, wishing that she could just lie and let everything go back to normal. "Not now."

Peyton nodded understandingly. "Okay," she said softly, looking a little more like she was in control of her emotions. "Sweetie, I've been where you've been, in a way, and I…" She exhaled tiredly. "Another story for another time. I just know, okay? I know how hard this is, and I hate myself for putting you in this position, but it was a choice between two evils and picked the one I thought would keep you safe. I really did."

Jenny crossed her arms, bringing one fist up to her chin and then pressing her lips into it to keep from sobbing. "Mom," she choked out. "I…"

Her mother took a couple of tentative steps toward her, nodding. "I know, baby. Hey. Will you go home with Haley? Please?"

She looked up to see her mentor-slash-aunt watching them with tears glistening in her eyes. She reached out a single hand to Jenny and left it there, hanging in the air between them lightly, an open invitation. "Yeah?" Haley whispered kindly.

She nodded a couple times, the movements of her head quick as she fought uselessly against the onslaught of tears. Peyton closed the gap between them, and Jenny prayed that she wouldn't hug her because she knew that would only result in a full-out meltdown.

Peyton knew her better than that, of course. She simply brushed Jenny's hair back so that she could place a soft kiss on her temple, murmuring, fierce affection in her voice, "You are my girl. That's the truth. Don't ever forget it." And then, with the light touch of her hand on Jenny's back, she steered her daughter over to her old friend.

Jenny walked unsteadily toward her, vision blurred by tears, and clasped Haley's hand tightly. Haley returned the pressure with a comforting squeeze. She pulled Jenny to her by that hand, wrapping her arm warmly around her shoulders and pulling her in closer so that Jenny could rest her head against her shoulder as she slowly walked her back to the car. "It's okay," she said softly. "It's okay if you need time."

"For what?" she asked in a strangled voice.

Haley held her even tighter and sighed. "Peyton loves you so much, Jenny. That's all you need to know, but it's okay if you need time to get there."

A/N: Please review. And watch that gag reel; it'll make you smile.