A/N: Sorry if I'm being confusing as hell, and for being a total review whore, and for not giving you L/P interaction sooner…but what happens here really does need to happen in order for you all to finally learn the background. It's coming soon. I promise you. Lucas/Peyton love on the show has made me want to put it into my fic, and I'm so impatient to get it out there that I didn't even wait to get 20 reviews on my last chapter. This chapter is important, the next one's really important – I've had it written since before I even wrote the first chapter – and the one after that is the one you've all been patiently waiting for. Read away...

Nocturne: in music, a night-piece; a piece of music that evokes dark sentiments within the listeners

"Daddy? It's your turn." Miranda poked his arm. "Daddy?"

Lucas blinked, coming back to life. "Oh, sorry, sweetie."

He'd picked up Miranda from dance class, and from the moment she'd gotten in the car, she'd been babbling about Candyland. But now that they were engaged in the game, Lucas wasn't proving to be a very good playmate.

Miranda, who was generally sweet-tempered despite how her parents spoiled her, was growing tired of him. "When's Mommy coming home?"

"Not for a while, princess. But you're going to get to spend lots of time with her when I'm in New York. Here, Mira, roll; it's your turn."

She accepted the die but did not throw it. "I want to spend time with both of you."

Lucas smiled sympathetically. "I know. When I get home, okay? We'll all hang out, I promise. Now come on, honey, roll. Don't you want to win?"

Brooke was working all the time. Lucas knew that she had to put in a lot of hours at the office in preparation for the days she'd spend at home with Miranda while he was away, but she was going overboard. Even Millie didn't seem to know where she was half the time.

She was avoiding him, he knew that, and he couldn't stop thinking about finding a way to get her to 'fess up. He was determined to get it out of her, refusing to go to Nathan and Haley and inquire as to what the hell was going on. Still, he was pretty much out of time. His flight left that night.

"Daddy." Miranda's weary sigh cut through his train of thought. "It's your turn again."

Lucas grinned apologetically. "I'm pretty bad at this, huh? How about I read to you? You go pick out a book, princess, and I'll put the game away."

Miranda skipped off happily, and Lucas stared after her, wondering what was going on with her mother.


"Haley?" Nathan asked, panicking. "Hales, what happened? Is someone hurt?"

She nodded, then shook her head. "Not physically," she said bitterly.

"I need you to explain," he said desperately.

She buried her face in his chest, and her words were muffled, but he understood them. "I just went and yelled at Peyton. I needed to, Nathan, she's breaking her daughter's heart and Chris is a wreck and I'm so tired of her secrecy…but God, I think I went too far, and I can't take it back. She deserved it, just…not all of it."

"Well, what did you say?" he asked, gentle and patient. He steered them over to the dining room's table and sat her down before pushing a chair up against hers so they could sit side by side.

"I told her she was a bad mom," Haley said sadly. "And made references to Anna and Ellie that were not at all fair to her and a totally bitchy thing to do."

"Oh, Hales…"

"I'm horrible, right?"

"You're not. You're just frustrated. We all are. Everything's going to be okay."

"I was so excited to have her back," Haley sobbed. "She tore us all up when she left, and I thought things would heal when she came back, but it's all happening again. I missed her. Maybe I shouldn't have."

"You don't mean that," Nathan reasoned calmly. "We all missed her and wished for her to come back. Peyton's hurting too, Haley. That much is obvious. She just needs us again."

"So then I blew it. I messed it all up." She burst into a fresh set of tears. "Nathan, I…I'm so glad to have you."

He smiled softly and wrapped an arm around her. "I love you, too, Hales."

"And Peyton…doesn't have anyone. And I went to lecture her like an idiot."

"None of this is impossible to fix," he assured her.

"I know," she said mournfully, calming down a bit. "I just wish so badly that none of it had been broken in the first place."


Brooke wasn't sure how she was expecting things to go when she reached the top of the staircase she was currently jogging up, the one that lead from Tric to the Sawyer apartment.

Part of her was revved up for confrontation. How dare you? she wanted to scream. How dare you love my boyfriend? How dare you disappear for so long? How dare you ignore me in Los Angeles? How dare you skip my wedding? How dare you appear in Tree Hill again after all this time and shake up my world?

But another part of her wanted to start crying and throw her arms around her very best friend, who'd been lost to her for so long.

She placed her hand on the knob and twisted. The door swung open invitingly. Brooke allowed herself a small smile. Unlocked door and welcoming atmosphere. That was how Peyton's house always used to be for her.

Inside, it was not quite so welcoming but…still. Impeccably quiet. She set her purse down near the door. "Peyton?" she called mutedly, and let the hesitant syllables settle into the air. The entire apartment was spotless. It didn't look lived in. Brooke peered around, and made a beeline for the only closed door, which was actually just cracked open. She pushed on it gently, asking again, "Peyton? You here?"

She was. Curled up under a blanket on the bed, staring at the TV bleakly, not really watching it.

"Hey," Brooke said quietly, softening with worry as she regarded Peyton's prone form.

The blonde squinted at her as if confused about whether she was real or an illusion. "Brooke? What're you doing here?" she question, soft and slow.

Brooke leaned against the doorframe and wiped her sweaty palms on her charcoal gray pencil skirt. It was one of her favourite pieces in her wardrobe, one that usually gave her an unalterable sense of power, but standing there, she felt seventeen again. "I thought we could talk," she finally said.

Peyton nodded and gave her a mirthless smile. "Of course. God, Brooke…" she shook her head, trailing off. Her eyes filled with tears. "I am so sorry."

Her misery alarmed Brooke. "Hey," she said again, taking a couple steps toward the bed, resisting the urge to rush over and hug her old friend. "It's okay," she soothed, because she wanted to make Peyton feel better, and because in some ways, it was.

Peyton's tears overflowed, coursing down her pale cheeks. "No. It's not." She wiped away her tears furiously and choked on a sob. "I want so badly to be stronger than this. I'm tired of crying. But, Brooke…I screwed up really badly. I fucked everything up."

Brooke's heart ached. She couldn't hold back any longer. She had maternal instincts when it came to Peyton. They'd been intensified by Anna's death, but the girls had always taken care of each other. She felt driven to comfort her friend. She crawled onto the bed in her expensive outfit and settled right next to Peyton. "Honey…" she said compassionately. "It's alright."

"I slept with Chris," Peyton blurted, her words mangled by her tears.

Brooke could feel her eyes widen, and she struggled to disguise her shock. "Chris…Keller?"

Peyton nodded miserably. "I'm such a mess. God, I've tried so had, but I screwed it up anyway."

"What?" Brooke asked patiently, though she was growing more and more baffled by the second.

"Being a mom. Jenny deserves so much better than me."

"Hey. No. You've always taken care of her."

"That doesn't matter. I suck at this. I'm hurting Jenny, and I know I hurt you and Nathan and Haley, and I hurt Chris. I didn't even stop to think that he might feel something for me, but he does, and I just used him."

Brooke frowned, more confused still. "Chris likes you?"

"Apparently," Peyton replied with a shaky shrug. "How could I have been such a moron and a heartless bitch to instantly assume that he was only in it for sex?"

The brunette winced at a high school memory, but said comfortingly, if not a bit wryly, "You based that thought on past evidence."

"But it still wasn't fair," Peyton insisted, lifting her hands and baring her palms. "Just like it wasn't fair of me to tell you that I loved Luke in twelfth grade," she added with a guilty, unhappy glance at her old best friend.

Brooke slipped an arm around Peyton's slim shoulders. "It's okay, P. Sawyer," she promised. "I got overly upset. It's in the past. High school drama, that's all," she told the sobbing girl. "It's okay."

"It's not. And Haley's right, she has good reason to be upset. I'm not being a good mother to Jenny, and that's not fair either."

"Haley doesn't think that," Brooke said instantly.

"She told me," Peyton stated flatly. "She came and yelled at me and told me everything I'm done is wrong…and it is."

"It isn't. And Peyton, you know Haley. Even if she said that, she didn't mean it."

"But what if she did? What if it's true? Being Jenny's mom and my label. Those have been the two biggest things in my life for a long time, and Jenny's always been the most important. But I screwed up." Her lips trembled. "What if I failed?"

"You didn't," Brooke insisted, believing it. "I don't know what's going on between you two, but I do know how much you love Jenny, and I know that she knows it, too."

Peyton didn't seem to be listening to her anymore. "I've let Jake down," she whispered. "And…my mom, and Ellie…they would have wanted me to do better. I wanted to do better."

"You've done fine. You've done perfectly. Please believe me, babe." She pulled Peyton closer, and her blonde head of curls fell softly onto Brooke's shoulder. "It's okay," Brooke repeated firmly, as she felt Peyton's tears against her neck.

After a lengthy silence, Peyton whispered, "Thank you, B. Even if you're lying."

Tears sprang to Brooke's eyes as she smiled appreciatively. It was funny how some things withstood the test of time, funny that she could march up the stairs with every intention of screaming at Peyton, and end up comforting her instead. It was funny that despite all the havoc Peyton had wreaked in their lives, it seemed like she had actually been the one to lose the most, the one who need comfort much more than criticism. "I'm not lying," Brooke said, her voice not even a whisper, but she knew that Peyton heard her.


"So then I just walked no stage and started playing. And of course they weren't going to stop me then!" Ryanna said with a casual, tinkling laugh.

"Of course," Jenny murmured sarcastically.

Jordan's knee came to rest gently against hers. She turned to look at him and her heart fluttered at the sight of his kindly sympathetic, inside-joke smile, but she turned away after a beat.

All twelve CMC campers were eating together just off the river walk at two picnic tables pushed against one another. Ryanna was holding court, and Jenny simply wasn't in the mood for her worship-me attitude.

She wished she'd never come. Haley was helping her with her music in ways she'd never thought possible, and Jordan seemed like such a perfect guy for her, but she didn't know if it was worth it. Weeks ago, she'd had a family within her group of friends, with a slew of musicians and record execs who doted on her, and at home with her mom. Now she had the Scotts, and Jordan, but she didn't feel as safe as she once had, as sure of herself and her life.

She knew that she'd overreacted, flipping out at Peyton just minutes after they'd reconciled, but her emotions were all over the place. Coming back to Tree Hill had made a mess of things, and she really didn't know how to handle it. She had face crisis before, but always with her mother, not against her.

Jenny couldn't stand Ryanna for another moment. She stood abruptly and slipped awkwardly out of her spot at the picnic table. Eleven faces stared up at her quizzically.

"I'm gonna take a walk. Clear my head."

She moved to step away, but Jordan's hand on hers kept her from going anywhere. He intertwined their fingers and gave her hand a squeeze. "You want company?"

Jenny smiled at him. She feared she would start crying and never stop if she opened her mouth, so she just squeezed his hand back gratefully and nodded.


Brooke carefully arranged the gourmet coffee and pastries neatly on the bedside table.

Peyton, emotionally exhausted, had fallen asleep a couple hours ago. Brooke had spent those hours sitting on the bed, watching over her protectively and contemplating the past twelve years.

She wanted to take every minute of their separation back. Peyton still didn't lock her doors, but the significant stuff had changed. It had taken its toll. Things were done that could not be rectified. Hurt was caused that it would be hard to forgive. They both gave up sooner than they should have. They both had too much pride. They both still feared each other in strange, vulnerable ways.

But as she sat there staring at her fast-asleep friend, she knew that she still loved her. She couldn't be as worried as she was about someone she didn't care about.

And she knew Peyton. She didn't break down in front of just anybody. That meant something, it did.

She wanted them to find their way back. The thought both delighted and terrified her.

Brooke was reluctant to leave Peyton, but she also knew that she had to. She didn't have the strength or the courage to face that intensity and the awkwardness that would ensue in the moments after Peyton opened her eyes. Maybe she could have found that strength, but she wasn't ready yet. Besides, she needed to go home. Lucas thought she was still at work. She missed her family, even though it had only been hours since she'd last seen her husband and daughter. And Lucas' flight to New York left in three hours – they needed to get to the airport.

She at least made sure that Peyton had some good food when she woke up. She didn't know if it was her imagination of not, but Peyton looked particularly skinny, in a tormented way, and it worried her. So she'd ordered treats from her favourite, pricey bakery and left them for her friend. She knew that Peyton could take care of herself, she just worried. She couldn't help it.

After she picked up her purse, and smoothed the wrinkles out of her flimsy blouse as best as she could, she looked in on Peyton one last time.

Gently, she brushed Peyton's hair out of her face. "We'll do this when you feel better," she whispered, smiling affectionately. Peyton looked angelically innocent when she slept, sometimes a sharp contrast to her waking personality. She always had. Brooke nodded to herself. "You're gonna be fine," she said. "Everything's going to be fine."


Peyton woke up slowly, clinging to sleep. She rolled onto her back and pressed the heels of her palms against her sore, tired eyes.

When she removed her hands, she saw that her silent room was softly illuminated by the lat rays of the day's sun, penetrating her thin, white curtains. She couldn't believe that the awful day still wasn't over.

She smiled slightly when she saw that Brooke had sweetly left her coffee and croissants, but she wasn't hungry. She reached for the remote sitting on her night table and pointed it at her small, cheap CD player. She set the remote down by her side and lay still, waiting for the music to fill the room.

Woke up, and wished that I was dead; with an aching in my head, I lay motionless in bed. I thought of you, and where you've gone. And let the world spin madly on.

Peyton scowled as her lips slipped into a pout. "Stupid freaking all-knowing psychic CD player…" she muttered grumpily. She hit the stop button and threw the remote to the floor before flinging off her blanket and standing up. She needed to stop being a pathetic mess. She needed to stop bawling and find another, more beneficial form of therapy.

She rummaged through her halfway-unpacked bags and pulled out a lightweight blue dress. She shed her pyjamas in favour of the dress, which she cinched at the waist with a belt. She brushed her hair and put on makeup before she looked in the mirror, and was pleased to see that she actually looked put together.

Downstairs in Tric, Chris was talking with a couple musicians and campers, his fingers toying confidently with the strings of his guitar. There was something almost sensual about it, and Peyton halted in the stairwell for a moment. Chris was a musician, he was sexy, and he apparently had a thing for her. She had to ask herself: could they work together? It would be so wonderful if she could be happy with Chris, to live a life that was a blissful blend of music and sarcasm and love. Jenny would be over the moon to have Chris Keller as her stepfather. A part of her wanted it so badly.

But she knew it wasn't meant to be. Peyton tended to doubt herself, but her immediate instincts had never been wrong. They came into play rarely…but they were the best thing she had. And she knew. It couldn't happen.

Besides, it would be stupid to think that Chris could be Jake for her, that she could have that life back. It had been good. It had. But it had ended. And…in the depths of her heart, Peyton knew that she didn't want it back. There would always be other things for her to long for, unattainable things that she tried not to think about too often.

Her hand drifted up to her neck, her fingers gently tangling in the rings that rested there. She rarely took off the chain she wore them on. No one in Tree Hill, not even Chris, had asked about them, and she was glad. She didn't like having to explain. Her friends, musicians and managers and other owners of labels, liked to tease her about her "mysterious rings", making silly references to J. R. R. Tolkein's famous novels and bad horror movies. Peyton tolerated it all with a smile and never offered up an explanation.

Wedding rings. That's what they were: her wedding rings. She wasn't entirely sure why she still wore them. She'd taken them off her finger years ago, but she still kept them on her person most of the time. As a reminder. That they weren't a burden – never had been and never would be. She'd given her heart to Jake and she didn't regret it. Sometimes she needed to remind the world of that fact…and sometimes she needed to remind herself.

Especially since, as much as she wanted to be blasé about it, she couldn't deny that she was affected by the fact that she was once again in the same town as Lucas Scott.

She didn't know what to do about it. The thought made her heart rest, and memories tortured her; she wanted to let go of her morals and inhibitions and just…

Chris glanced up and happened to see her. They locked eyes for a millisecond before he frowned and looked away.

Peyton was filled with remorse. She wasn't going to do any of that. She'd hurt enough, and she'd been hurt enough. Lucas was happily married and way over her. She had wedding rings around her neck and Jenny to think about. She had her life and he had his. If Brooke knew she was in town, then he must have, too. And had Lucas, the boy who once claimed that he loved being that guy for her, sought her out? No. Further proof of how separate their lives were. End of story.

Peyton stole out of Tric and slipped into the small, unremarkable car she was renting. She'd driven her beloved Comet to Savannah the second time she'd fled there, messily packed with her basic wardrobe and her most precious belongings. The best and most meaningful albums Ellie had left her, clothing and drawings of her mother's, her own drawing of Jake and Jenny before they left on her father's boat, mementos from her childhood, and her pillow. She left her webcam, her people-always-leave artwork, her old photo albums, the records that had been a soundtrack to life she no longer lived, and a black-and-white drawing with a caption that read: And now we can't have it.

When she left Savannah for L.A., she left her car behind. And while she missed it, she was glad about the anonymity her boring, safe car provided. Driving the Comet around town would have been the same as announcing over a loudspeaker system that Peyton Sawyer was home.

She went to the small, quiet art store she'd frequented as a teen and headed straight for the paint. Her fingers grazed the reds, the colour her room had once been. She sighed in blissful relief as she examined the endless supply of paint available to her. This was a homecoming, pure and simple, without strings attached.

This was how she was going to heal.


"Brooke, where have you been?" Lucas demanded the moment she walked through the door. He had the phone in his hand; it had certainly gotten a workout over the past two and a half hours. "I've been looking for you for hours. Millie said you disappeared from work, and your BlackBerry was off." He'd been worried about her.

She nodded, giving him an apologetic smile. "I know. I'm sorry."

"Brooke, what is going on?" She looked at little less put together than she normally did, a little sadder and a bit more undone. And she wasn't giving him any sort of explanation.

"Nothing," she replied, avoiding his eyes. At his incredulous, irritated look, she amended, "Nothing you need to worry about. I promise."

Lucas just stared at her, at her messy hair and rumpled clothing, and tried to come up with some kind of theory as to where she'd been.

Brooke cracked a small grin. "Do I totally look like I'm having an affair right now?" she asked.

"A little bit," he admitted.

She walked over to him and placed a hand on either side of his face, kissing him fully on the lips. "I'm sorry, Luke, I am. But it's just something I needed to take care of. Business. I swear to you."

He sighed, annoyed and unsatisfied with her explanation. "I trust you, I just…Shit, I've gotta get out of here," he noted, pointing at the clock.

"I know. I'm sorry. Is Mira ready?"

"Yeah. And I'm all packed."

"Okay." She sighed. "It's just a couple days, right?"

He nodded.

"I'm going to miss you, Broody," she whispered, giving him another quick kiss. "Miranda Scott!" she called over his shoulder. "Get your adorable self down here, please! Daddy's got a plane to catch."

Miranda skipped down the stairs and ran toward them, calling, "Mommy!"

"Hey, beautiful girl," Brooke gushed, bending down to kiss Miranda's cheeks.

"She missed you," Lucas said quietly, knowing that it was a low blow, but unable to resist. He was getting annoyed.

Brooke shot him a wounded glance as she straightened up. "Do not start with me right now," she murmured angrily. "I know you're confused, and I'm sorry I was late, but we are not doing this right now. Let's just go get you on that plane."

"Fine," Lucas replied, matching her tone as he placed his hand on the handle of his bag. "C'mon, princess, see if you can beat me to the car," he told Miranda with a smile.

The drive to the airport was uncomfortably tense, and made even more awkward by the fact that Miranda was completely oblivious to her parents' problems, and babbled happily the entire way there. Lucas and Brooke plastered on their best smiles and used their most enthusiastic voices when they interacted with her, but said virtually nothing to one another.

When they arrived, Lucas checked in, and right outside of security scooped Miranda up to say goodbye. He tickled her and promised to bring presents, asked her to be good for her mother, and told her that he loved her more than anything. She giggled and gave him a great big kiss before he set her down, and straightened up to come face to face with his wife.

"I'll be back in four days," he said simply.

"Yeah. I know," Brooke replied, waiting for more.

"So…bye." He went to turn away, but her voice stopped him.

"Lucas," she said sadly, and he turned back. Hey eyes were watery. "I'm sorry, babe," she said quietly. "Just…fly safe, okay? I love you so much."

He softened and opened his arms for a hug, dropping a kiss on her forehead. "I love you, too. I'll see you again soon."

"Bye, Daddy!" chirped Miranda, and he extended an arm to include her in the hug.

"I'll see you in no time, my girls," he assured them fondly, and locked his eyes with Brooke. "When I come back, you'll explain?"

She took a deep breath. "When you come back," she agreed, leaning in for one last kiss. "We'll miss you…won't we, Mira?"

"Yeah!"

He smiled at them both, and after kissing each of them one last time, he turned and joined the line to go through security. He had a busy few days planned in New York, and he needed to focus on his work. When he came back, Brooke would explain everything, and they could get back to normality…if only he could write again.


"Coming!" Nathan called irritably to whoever was standing on the other side of the door. Haley was lying down, emotionally spent, and Sebastian wouldn't stop crying. Nathan was tired of the constant drama and traffic at their house. It used to be so peaceful, so much easier.

He swung open the door to reveal a nervous-looking Peyton. "Hey," he said loudly over Sebastian's wailing, surprised to see her.

"Hey," she replied softly. She looked stressed, but generally good. Her fingers were stained with paint, a pleasantly familiar sight. "You look like hell."

"Thanks, Peyt," he responded sarcastically, opening the door wider to allow her entry. "My two-year-old's been bawling for about half an hour; it's not exactly my fault."

"Aw," she cooed at Sebastian. "May I?" she asked, and Nathan willingly handed over the screaming toddler.

"Hey, you," she crooned, tickling him gently and making faces. "What's the matter?"

Sebastian's sobs quieted a bit as he studied her face curiously.

"Nothing, right?" Peyton asked teasingly. "You're just cranky." She blew a raspberry on his cheek and his muted whimpering turned into giggles. "Yeah, you are, you handsome guy."

Nathan stared at her incredulously. "I tried all of that."

She shrugged, grinning at him. "Yeah, well, you suck."

"Hey!" he protested, but he couldn't help but grin back. He was glad that she wasn't screaming at him. He thought the next time he saw Peyton it would be for a fight in which she would yell at him for revealing to her daughter that she wasn't actually…her daughter. However, from what Haley had told him, he sensed that Peyton was in need of allies at this point, and he was more than willing to be one, especially if it saved him from a lecture he kind of deserved.

Sebastian began playing with the rings she wore around her neck as she said softly, "I was actually…looking for Jenny."

Nathan nodded. "I think she's out with some other camper kids. Everything's a little crazy right now, so I don't know where exactly, I'm sorry…but I'm sure she's fine."

"Don't worry about it. I'll just go."

"Hey, no…you should stay for a while."

She lifted her eyebrows. "I really don't think Haley would like that," she confessed shakily.

"She's taking a nap. Come in and hang out with me; it's my house, too. Besides, if you leave, he might start crying again," he added, gesturing to the two-year-old she held.

Peyton laughed appreciatively. "Okay."

They sat down on the same couch, and Peyton grabbed one of Sebastian's toys and settled him between them.

At a loss for words, Nathan said the first thing that came to mind: "He adores you. Not everybody gets that smile."

Peyton smiled, too, but it was more regret than joy. "He's so beautiful. All your kids are." She shook her head, blinking quickly. "I hate that I missed all of this."

"It's okay," he said comfortingly, well aware of all the grief she'd been getting for her lack of involvement in their lives. "It really is."

"Nate. That's nice of you to say. But you know it's really not."

He smiled sheepishly. "I tried. You've got to give me that."

"Ball!" Sebastian declared, holding out a soft ball to Peyton.

"Yeah," she agreed with a quiet laugh, reaching out to tickle him. She was good with him, and in spite of all the hellish drama, she'd done well with Jenny. The Peyton Sawyer he'd dated in high school was not someone Nathan had ever imagined becoming a mother, but she clearly had strong maternal instincts. He wondered why she'd never had children of her own.

Peyton smiled at him softly, looking up from Sebastian. "Where's your head, Nathan Scott?" she asked.

He shook his head. Peyton didn't need another inquisition. "Nowhere. What about you, Sawyer?" The use of his familiar affectionate term for her brought up another question in his mind. She still had her maiden name. Did that mean that she had never married Jake, never married anyone?

"Brooke came by today," she said without preamble.

Nathan winced. There was something else she had reason to yell at him for. "I'm sorry."

She frowned. "It's not exactly your fault."

"No, I…because I told her where to find you. I'm sorry, she was just so insistent and you know, Brooke Davis-Scott can be a little scary, and I was stressed and Haley was being confusing as hell…" he trailed off. Several emotions had played over Peyton's face as he spoke. There was the briefest flash of pain when he said Brooke Davis-Scott, which he both disapproved of and understood. He hated it, but he suspected that Peyton and Lucas would always feel like they had some kind of claim over each other, even when they really, totally, and completely didn't. Chris Keller had been right about that, in a way. When he mentioned Haley, he saw a glimmer of hurt, undoubtedly stemming from Haley's earlier decision to go and scream at her. But the one he focused on and spoke about was surprise.

"You…didn't know," he sighed. "She came by earlier looking for you. I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay, Nathan. I'm sorry, for complicating things so much."

"Peyton," he said softly, seriously. "No matter how fu- screwed up," he corrected, eyeing his youngest son, "things have been lately…we are all glad to have you home. We missed you."

"Aw, Nathan," she laughed, with a genuine smile on her lips. "You are such a softie at heart."

He rolled his eyes, embarrassed. "Yeah. Well. Anyway. Did you two get into a good, old-fashioned catfight?"

"Shut up," she said, rolling her own eyes. "No, um…I actually, I'm kind of glad she came. I needed her," she shrugged. "I was kind of a mess. Big surprise, huh? When am I not?"

Nathan opened his mouth to convince her otherwise, but something over her shoulder caught his eye. "Speaking of…" he said gently, nodding toward the girl who stood in the doorway.

Peyton turned, and Jenny shifted her weight from one foot to the other nervously. "Mom? What're you doing here?"

Peyton swallowed thickly. "Looking for you. I see that you're calling me Mom again," she said, keeping her tone steady and casual.

Jenny shrugged embarrassedly, and waited for her to continue. Nathan wondered if he should get up and leave, but he suspected that would call attention to his presence and make everything worse.

"Listen, babe," Peyton said, her voice still controlled. "I'm sorry, alright? I am so sorry. I love you, always have and always will. But you need to make up your mind, okay? I want you to forgive me. I want you to trust me, and I'm sorry if that means you won't always know what's going on. I would love for that to happen. But if you can't, if you make up your mind to hate me then…fine," she said painfully. "Then that's it, you hate me. But I can't do this anymore, Jen, and I don't want to put you through it, either. This cycle needs to stop."

Jenny crossed her arms, hugging herself. "I know," she said softly.

"Okay," Peyton said simply.

Her daughter bit down on her lower lip. "It sucks," she sighed. "I overreacted. I meant what I said. The first things, not the angry things. I don't want this to go on anymore. And I…I'm sorry, too."

Peyton just nodded.

"Mom…" Jenny stopped, her eyes wet. "I…"

Peyton exhaled shakily. "I know," she breathed.

Jenny nodded.

Nathan cleared his throat. "Jenny, why don't you grab some of your stuff and go stay with your mom for a couple days? I'm sure that's fine with Haley."

Jenny nodded again and took off for her room, and Nathan turned his attention back to Peyton. "You okay?" he asked her softly, unsure of what else to say.

She shrugged, smiling sadly. "I'm okay if she's okay. She's my life."

He nodded understandingly. "I know she is. But I also know that you have your own problems to deal with. Jenny's going to be fine, Peyton…but are you okay?"

She looked reflective. Sebastian held the ball out to her again and she smiled affectionately down at him, gently ruffling his already-messy hair. She looked back up at Nathan and offered him a weak smile. "Look at you," she said quietly. "Look at your life. I can't think of anything I want more than what you've got. I love Jenny and my music, and I wouldn't trade those things back for the world, but I always feel like I'm waiting for something to complete it all."

"You'll get it," Nathan replied confidently, locking eyes with her.

She sighed. "That's the thing. I've chosen what I have…and I don't regret it because Jenny alone is enough to make my life great. But I think I'm twelve years too late for the rest of it all."