A/N: As always, a million thanks for the reviews. This chapter's a pretty important one for me, and I hope I've done all that occurs in it justice. I had a lot of fun throwing the character of Lindsay into a different role in Lucas' life, but the really important thing about this chapter is the interaction between Brooke and Peyton. Read and review, please.
Sonata: a piece of music that is meant to be played, not sung. It varies in a slow-fast-slow-fast pattern that allows for hamonies to blend together well.
Jenny woke up to her mother tickling her mercilessly, and she instantly burst into a fit of giggles. "Stop, stop!" she cried, kicking off the blanket she'd slept underneath in an effort to fight Peyton off.
"Do you promise not to go back to sleep?" Peyton demanded, not letting up.
"I promise!" Jenny shrieked through her laughter.
Her mother held up her hands in surrender. "Okay, then…if you promise."
Jenny sat up on the couch, where she'd slept. The sunlight in the room, the walls of which were painted in random areas, was soft and pretty. "What time is it?" she asked as she sat up, smiling at her mother, who sat down next to her.
"Six fifteen," Peyton shrugged.
Jenny's face melted into a horrified expression. "What? I don't even have to wake up this early for CMC stuff!"
"What are you saying?" Peyton teased. "CMC's more important then me?"
"No," Jenny admitted laughingly.
"Okay, so, up you get," Peyton declared, standing up and offering Jenny her hands.
She took them but didn't let herself be pulled up yet. "But why?"
Peyton tugged her to her feet and pulled her into a hug, kissing her forehead before she released her. "Because you and I are going to have an awesome day today, and I don't want to miss any of it. Nathan called earlier; you're all mine until studio time with Haley at five."
Jenny shook her head. "You are crazy."
"But…?" Peyton added, tilting her head as she awaited the answer.
"But I missed you," Jenny filled in grudgingly, but grinned. She really had. A crazy day with her mother had never sounded better.
Lucas rapped lightly on the half-open, imposingly formal door. "You looking for someone to yell at?" he asked by way of greeting.
Lindsay looked up from the papers she was scribbling correctional notes on and pulled off her glasses. Her expression morphed from one of frustrated boredom to joy. "Luke!" she cried happily. "Yes, I would absolutely love to yell at you!" she exclaimed laughingly as she hurried over to hug him.
He chuckled as they embraced, and jammed his hands into his pockets when they pulled apart. "Alright, Linds. Let me have it."
She sighed contemplatively as she studied him. "You really don't have anything for me?"
He shrugged, apologetic and ashamed, knowing that he'd disappointed her. "A couple hundred words that I hate."
Lindsay nodded. "Okay." She grabbed her purse, throwing her cell phone and some sunscreen in. She placed a hand on Lucas' elbow to steer him out of her office. "We're going for a walk."
Haley awoke to find her six-year-olds and their toys crawling all over her bed.
"Hey, guys," she said drowsily.
"You slept a lot," Noah informed her, his Scott blue eyes wide and serious.
"Yeah, Mommy, it's one-two-zero-zero," Nick, who read the time on digital clocks literally, added.
"It's noon," she murmured. "Wow, I did sleep a lot, didn't I?"
Nathan appeared in the doorway of their room. "Hey, boys, go watch TV with Jamie, okay?"
"Mommy's awake," they chorused.
He grinned. "I see that. Now get your butts out of here."
They scrambled off the bed and out the door as Haley sat up, running her fingers through her hair. Nathan walked over and sat at the foot of the bed, resting a hand on her calf. "How're you doing?"
She smiled at his concern. "I'm fine. Jenny came back last night, right?" she asked worriedly.
Nathan nodded. "Yeah, of course. But I sent her home with Peyton."
Haley frowned. "What? Nathan! You should have talked to me first! They're fighting!"
"They made up. She wanted to go, Hales, I didn't force her."
"Okay…" she murmured uncertainly, still not sure that he'd made his decision with Jenny's best interests at heart.
"Trust me." Nathan rubbed her calf gently. "Speaking of Peyton…don't you think you two should talk? She was over here yesterday, and she seemed shaken up by what happened between you two."
She scowled. "You two talked?" she demanded, a little too harshly.
"Don't make me take sides, Haley," he said, kindly but firmly.
"I…I'm not, I'm just…worried about Jenny."
"Peyton is her mother. Hales…it's great that you love her, but Peyton's her mom. We need to respect that."
"I know," she admitted.
"You and Peyton should talk, work things out. This isn't good for either of you."
Haley sighed. "I want to, but it's too soon. I hate some of the things I said…but I really did mean others, and I won't take them back. She needs space and I need time and…we both have things to apologize for."
"So apologize for them," Nathan shrugged.
She smiled sadly. "Too soon, babe."
"Okay…"
"Trust me," Haley said, her smile growing as she repeated his earlier words.
Nathan smiled back. "Always."
She sat up onto her knees, steadying herself with a hand on his knees as she kissed him. She sighed against his lips, thankful for her husband and her life, and the fact that she could have faith that things would get better. "And forever," she breathed.
"We're out of white sugar," Jenny declared.
"Impossible!" Peyton cried, whirling around to look at her daughter. The two skinny, moody blondes were in remarkably good cheer, and in the spirit of random happiness, had decided to make chocolate chip cookies, an old favourite. Neither of them were very good in the kitchen, but occasionally they decided to work together to create something that may or may not turn out well. The result really wasn't the point of it: it was mother-daughter bonding at its best, something Peyton had never experienced at Jenny's age.
The brightly lit kitchen was already fairly messy. The windows were wide open and the tunes were blasting at full volume. When Jenny pointed out that everyone on the street could hear their mixed CDs, Peyton shrugged, shot the younger girl a devilish grin, and pointed out the inhabitants of Tree Hill could use a little musical education.
Jenny held the empty sugar bag up as evidence, shaking it to prove its emptiness.
"No!" Peyton said sadly, as if it was a great tragedy. "I don't understand. What the hell else do we use sugar for?"
"Cereal in the morning," Jenny said with a pretty smile and a pointed look. She never let Peyton live that habit down – she tended to add even more sugar to her Frosted Flakes.
"Okay, genius, fine," Peyton pretended to fume, but she couldn't really mask her happiness. Things were right with her daughter again. Jenny had forgiven her for this particular secret, and had accepted her as her mother again. Peyton had to admit that she'd been worried about nothing, in a way. Jenny was her daughter. She'd raised her, practically since birth. Most of the time, she could tell that Jenny forgot the bitter truth that had been kept from her for all those years. Their relationship was solid; it had already endured the tests of fights and time and separations. It was the two of them against the world, it always had been. Jenny was Peyton's daughter – they looked alike and acted similarly. They shared the occasional piece of clothing and all of their music. Jenny had been hurt by the truth, but the reality of the situation was that Peyton loved her like a mother and always would. She'd come to realize that, much to Peyton's relief.
"What do we do now? Do we have to stop?" Jenny pouted, looking around the kitchen.
"Of course not, honey. We'll just substitute in brown sugar. It'll make them nice and chewy."
"Great." Jenny filled a cup with brown sugar and emptied into the large bowl.
Peyton grabbed the beater and plugged it in. She plunged the beaters into the bowl, took a deep breath and a step back, and began to mix.
It wasn't actually too bad. Only a little bit of sugar flew into the air to cover the already-buttery counter. Both of them winced a little at first, but soon ventured closer to the bowl. Jenny got the flour ready and waited for Peyton's instructions.
"Vanilla extract first, kiddo," Peyton reminded her kindly. She watched her daughter affectionately as she measured out two teaspoons and dumped them in. After a moment of mixing she said, "Okay, hit me with that flour."
The flour hit the beaters as it went into the bowl, and flew everywhere. Shocked and with flour in her eyes, Peyton lost her grip on the beater and it went flying across the counter, sending batter all over the room and its two occupants.
"Mom!" shrieked Jenny, bursting into a fit of joyous laughter.
Peyton started giggling, too. "We might have to start over, huh?" she asked over the whir of the beaters and the music.
Jenny grinned heartbreakingly. "I love you, Mom," she laughed, amused, but her words were honest and serious.
Peyton's eyes filled with tears, partly from the sugar and flour flying at her, but also from emotion, as she looked at Jenny fondly. "Aw, baby," she said softly, "Back at you."
They both felt the emotional intensity of it, but Peyton, simply relieved to have her daughter back, let Jenny chose when to break it. The fourteen-year-old looked down at the floor, modest despite her smile, before she stuck her hand in the bowl and took a handful of dough.
"You wouldn't," Peyton said with a small smile.
"Oh, but I would!" Jenny cried, flinging it at her as Modest Mouse played in the background.
Peyton gasped as the clump of cookie dough hit her cheek, and immediately grabbed the bag of chocolate chips, and in retaliation, threw them at Jenny. It didn't matter if they got dirty – they were both outfitted in pyjama shorts and lightweight hoodies, their blonde hair gathered into messy, curly ponytails. The two of them laughed and flung uncooked food at each other for nearly five minutes, until a song Peyton immediately recognized came on the stereo and she cried, "Truce, truce; Jenny, listen!"
It was a Rachel Stevens song called Knock on Wood that she used to listen to with Jake when they were feeling particularly silly or restless. A song for a cloudy, dreary day. When it was raining out, Jenny went to sleep more easily than she normally did. Jake and Peyton always laughed and teased each other throughout the morning on rainy days when they were both at home, knowing that they'd take Jenny's long, lazy nap as an opportunity to make love. Afterward, they'd curl up together: she drew while he played his guitar. They'd fall into the most peaceful, comfortable silence, occasionally pausing in their respective activities to make out, until Jenny awoke. When she did, Jake would put on some old, corny music – like Everlasting Love, My Girl, or Knock on Wood and start cooking for them. Peyton would scoop Jenny up and dance her around the kitchen, laughing with the boy she loved and the little girl she so adored. Jenny would giggle so delightedly that the day would actually brighten for Peyton. Rainy days at home had been the epitome of the pleasant life she lived in Savannah.
Peyton got the beater under control as she and Jenny grabbed cookie dough-covered spatulas and used them as microphones as they danced around in the kitchen, singing at the top of their lungs.
"It's like thunder….and lightning…the way you love me is frightening!" Jenny sang, the occasional giggle interrupting her words.
They broke into the next phrase together: "You better knock (knock, knock, knock, knock)…on wood! Ba-by! Ooh, ooh ooh ooh ooh ooh…ba-by, ooh…yeah!" Peyton raised her eyebrows and the two of them burst into hysterical laugher.
Lucas and Lindsay meandered through Central Park, sipping iced coffees and people-watching.
"Talk to me, Luke," she said simply, sidestepping slightly so that their arms touched, encouraging him to speak.
"Why'm I always the one who has to talk?" he teased, stalling. "Why don't you tell me about you?"
She shook her head. "You know enough about me, Lucas. I like to maintain a little mystery, it's my privilege as editor."
"So just because I'm the writer, you get to psychologically analyze me?"
Lindsay shrugged, feigning innocence as she wore a secretive smile. "If that's what you want to call it." She eyed him in her peripheral vision. "How's your life?"
"Pretty perfect."
"Your girls are good?"
He grinned. "Yeah. Mira's taking ballet and loving it, Brooke's still really successful…but she's hiding something from me."
"Brooke is?"
"Yeah. I really want to believe that it's nothing – she says it is. But it's worrying me…and annoying me. I wish she'd be honest."
"Do you think that's why you're struggling with your writing? Because whatever Brooke's keeping from you is bothering you?"
Lucas raised his eyebrows and smiled ironically. "I wish. Brooke's been evasive for about three days. It's been years since I've submitted any good writing to you." He shook his head. "What's your assessment, Psychologist Strauss?"
"Lucas…I have to be honest with you. It's been too long. The powers that be are getting annoyed with us both. Your writing is fantastic; it speaks to me, you know that. I don't want to let you go. I've been fighting like hell to keep you."
He hung his head a bit. "I know, Linds. And I really appreciate it."
"I know you do, Luke, but I can't keep it up. I'm putting my career on the line by calling my credibility into question. You need to write something."
Lucas sighed. "I just can't."
"I'm happy that you're happy, but whatever used to inspire you is missing. You have to think about what your life was like when you wrote your first novel. You need to contrast you high school life with your life today. What essential, inspirational thing did you have then that you don't have now?"
Brooke drove down the street with the top of her VW Bug convertible down. The summer sun was warm on her already-tanned skin, and she drove with confident assurance, her Gucci sunglasses perched on her perfectly powdered nose.
As she sailed down the road past Tric, she heard the unmistakably loud sounds of uncharacteristically peppy music, if it was indeed Peyton who was playing it. The windows to her old friend's apartment were thrown open, and the white curtains, which gave off a calm, innocent vibe, moved with the wind.
She hadn't spoken to Peyton since the previous day, when she'd comforted her about the whole Chris debacle. Haley had already filled her in with the basic info that Peyton was back, having come to Tree Hill along with Jenny Jagielski for a music program the young teen was attending for the eight weeks of summer. That had confirmed the assumption she'd made years ago that Peyton had run back to Jake, but it clarified little else. Why had Peyton insisted on accompanying Jenny? That was the real mystery, along with the other obvious questions, such as what the deal with Jake and L.A. was. It'd been a shock to her to learn that Peyton was back in town, and she'd been a bit uneasy about it. They'd parted on cold, bitter terms, and when she'd went after Peyton in Los Angeles to make it right, she'd been totally snubbed.
The blaring sun and clear sky seemed so optimistic that she was filled with a sudden surge of confidence and determination. Peyton was clearly in a good mood, hence the cheery tunes. Brooke had a totally free afternoon, and she decided it was high time for a heart-to-heart with the girl she'd once loved so dearly. The timing was as good as it was ever going to get. Lucas was in New York having a book-talk session with his editor, Mira was settled with Karen and Lily for an afternoon of fun, and she'd just had a facial, so she felt entirely refreshed. She parked in Tric's lot with certainty and slipped out of the car.
When she stepped inside Tric, she realized that the energetic music she was hearing was…disco. She'd never, in her life, expected to encounter Peyton listening to disco, but she guessed that wonders never ceased. She jogged up the stairs impatiently, and slipped through the unlocked door without knocking. Some things never changed.
She was pleasantly surprised by what she saw the moment she entered the well-designed apartment. The walls were all white, but they were now covered in random patches by Peyton's artwork, and she took notice of the furniture for the first time: the stuff she could see from the doorway had a modern, tasteful feel to it. But she quickly stopped paying attention to architecture and decorations – she was easily distracted from those things by the pair of blondes directly in front of her, in the kitchen. The entire room, and both girls, was covered in cookie dough in various states of preparation, all topped off with a sprinkling of chocolate chips. Both curly-haired blondes were dressed casually, and were facing each other, lost in their own little world as they crooned out disco lyrics into their dough-covered spoons.
The sight of them made Brooke realize how much she'd truly missed her best friend, and it overwhelmed her, throwing her back to a time when things between them had been so easy. "Peyton Sawyer!" she cried out, as though scandalized, her voice ringing out clearly over the upbeat song and stopping both blondes instantly, blushes rising to their cheeks. "Are you listening to disco?" Brooke asked with teasing incredulity.
Peyton grinned back at her so earnestly that Brooke actually ached to have back what they'd once been. The very best and the most supportive of friends, despite the cattiness the rest of the world saw sometimes. Deep down, they'd been sisters.
Peyton grabbed a dough-covered stereo remote and used it to turn the music down several decibels. "Hey, Jen," she said breathlessly, "this is my oldest and bestest friend, Brooke Davis," she introduced them, her wide smile still in place. "Brooke, this is my baby girl," she continued, her hand coming to rest lightly on Jenny's shoulder.
Jenny threw Peyton a smile before saying, "Hi, nice to meet you…again. I bet you knew me when I was a baby, too, huh?"
Brooke noticed how Peyton pulled Jenny closer, almost as if she was protecting her from something. "Yeah," she said with a smile. "I did, I hung around when Peyton was babysitting you a couple times. You were the cutest thing ever."
"Thanks," Jenny said, a bit awkwardly.
God, she looked like Peyton. A lot like her, with her thin, contained build and curly blonde locks. It amazed Brooke. There was not a bit of Psycho Bitch Nicki in that kid, and if she was honest with herself, Brooke barely saw any Jake, either. It surprised her, considering what an attentive father she'd known Jake to be. She would've expected Jenny to pick up more from him.
"So listen," Jenny said with an innocent bat of her long eyelashes. "I have a studio date with Haley in like, half an hour, so I'm gonna get cleaned up and go, okay? Sorry I can't help you clean up," she added with wide eyes.
"Brat," Peyton teased fondly, gently pushing her away. "Go to it."
"Thanks, Mom," Jenny said earnestly, leaning in to kiss Peyton's dough-covered cheek before she darted off. She licked her lips, commenting, "Mm, that actually tastes pretty good for raw egg and brown sugar."
"Get lost," Peyton said fondly, watching her go with a sense of affection Brooke recognized well. Peyton looked at Jenny the way she, Brooke, looked at Miranda.
Brooke tentatively stepped into the messy kitchen. "You did good, P. Sawyer," she said softly, nodding in the direction Jenny had gone.
Peyton blushed and looked down at her bare feet. Her toenails were painted aqua blue. "Thanks," she replied, matching Brooke's tone. "For that, and for…everything with Chris and…all of that."
"Hey," Brooke shrugged, wincing at the memory. "Been there, done that, right?"
Peyton made an equally humorous, mortified face, and they both giggled nervously.
Jenny skipped back into the room. She'd rinsed out her hair and pulled it into a messy bun, and she was wearing a navy blue dress over thin leggings. "I'm off," she announced as she slipped a pair of flats onto her feet.
Her mother opened the fridge, pulled out a peach, and tossed it to her. "For the road. You're coming back here, right? What time are you home, babe?"
Jenny shrugged. "I'll let you know?"
Peyton considered it for a moment, giving Jenny a warning look. "Fine," she finally conceded. "Call me…and be safe."
"Always." Jenny gave the promise casually, taking a bite of her peach. "Nice to meet you, Brooke. Later!" she called over her shoulder, slipping out the door.
Peyton gathered up spoons and spatulas and tossed them into the sink.
"Cold peaches?" Brooke couldn't help but ask. That was strange.
Peyton just shrugged. "We had a fruit fly problem in Savannah, so we had to keep everything in the fridge, and it turns out that cold peaches are actually really good in the summer. It's just become habit."
"Oh," Brooke said faintly. She didn't know what to say. It was kind of like walking through a minefield. She had to be very, very careful where she stepped, or Peyton would blow up. Considering what she'd seen after Peyton's tryst with Chris, her friend was as emotionally volatile as she'd ever been. Brooke didn't want to mess up their tentative peace, but they really did need to talk.
"Listen, Brooke…" Peyton began hesitantly, gripping a dishtowel tightly. Apparently, she knew it, too. "I…I'm really sorry. For…God, for everything."
"Peyton…"
"I should never have told that I had feelings for Lucas. I'd let go of him for a long time and encouraged your relationship and…it was a bitchy thing to do," she said carefully. "So I'm sorry."
"You were being honest," Brooke sighed. "I shouldn't have reacted so…crazily. I'd asked you for truth and you gave it to me. I should have trusted you. I regret messing everything up. It was just as much my fault, okay? I never thought that you'd run back to Jake right away."
She saw the way Peyton visibly tensed at Jake's name and immediately tried to steer them back into safer territory. "I wish I could have been a part of your life for the past twelve years, Peyton."
Peyton rinsed out a large bowl, blinking quickly. "Maybe it was partially your fault that we had that big fight, but it was my fault that I cut everyone out. It was stupid, but I was a mess…like always, right? And I just didn't know what else to do. I shouldn't have ignored you when you came to L.A.…that was brave of you, Brooke, and you proved your friendship to me. I just couldn't handle it."
Brooke bit down on her bottom lip. She didn't want to ask, but she had to. "Why not?"
Peyton shook her head as if banishing bad thoughts. "Because of a lot of things."
She grew a little frustrated. She knew things hadn't been easy for Peyton – they never were – but she'd missed her, and there were times when she'd needed her. "I wanted you at my wedding, P. Sawyer. I never dreamed that you wouldn't be there, standing next to me."
Peyton's eyes closed. "Brooke."
"No, why is that such a crazy thing to say? You're my best friend. And you always pick other stuff over me! Lucas, then Jake, then your label and then, what? Your pride?"
She was alarmed at the unadulterated emotion clear in the anger that flashed through Peyton's temperamental green eyes. "Don't you dare," she said through clenched teeth. "You have no idea what you're talking about."
"Yeah, and you just admitted it: it's your fault!" Brooke cried, and instantly regretted it. She'd come there to rebuild their friendship, not tear it down again. "Can you…can we…can you let me into your life again?"
When Peyton shook her head, her curls whacked her lightly in the face. "I can't give you details, okay? I don't have an excuse for not coming to your wedding," she said in a choked-up voice. "I wanted to be there, but to be honest with you, I also would have rather been anywhere else in the world. After our fight, considering what we fought about, who we fought about…I couldn't do it. I had Jenny to think about. I can't…let you in to the past twelve years. I can't relive all of it. It's done and I don't want to go back. For my sake and for Jenny's."
"And Jake?" Brooke questioned, unable to resist. Where was the boy who'd always made things easier for Peyton and had had an amazing ability to brighten up her broody face?
"Out of my life and in the past," Peyton replied tersely, tossing a cookie sheet into the sink so that it landed with a loud clang. She closed her eyes again briefly before she fully faced Brooke. "I just can't go back there. I can't."
"So what does that mean?" Brooke asked desperately. "Yeah, I've been pissed at you, but I missed you. Don't you remember when it was just you and me? We had all those stupid traditions and games and we were just there?" She shook her head. "For almost an entire month after Anna died, Peyton, I forgot about the rest of the world. School stopped mattering and even the cute boys didn't mean anything anymore…" she shrugged sadly. "I was just so worried about you, because you were my other half."
Peyton's eyes filled with tears that slipped down her cheeks, over the cookie-dough stains. "I know," she whispered painfully. "And I loved you for it."
Brooke looked at her imploringly. Bringing up Peyton's mom's death may have been a bit of a cheap shot, but it was the only way she could fully get her point across. She remembered that, being so young and so worried that she had to rush over to Peyton's house in the morning and try to coax her to eat Pop Tarts. She could still remember the first day Peyton had smiled after Anna's death. Brooke had arrived at the gloomy Sawyer residence in the early hours of the morning as always to find a depressed Larry Sawyer sitting in the kitchen. She'd skirted by him with a nervous hello and her best comforting grin before dashing upstairs to Peyton. Her best friend's room had been masked in darkness, and Peyton was lying in bed, whimpering as she clutched an old shirt. Brooke had, in a panic, climbed into bed with her and asked what was wrong, and Peyton whispered that her mom's shirt was starting to smell like her own bedding, and that she was scared of forgetting her. Momentarily at a loss for words, Brooke had finally said, "Don't worry. I won't let you. I promise." And instead of bursting into more sobs, Peyton had just given her a small, close-lipped smile and said, "I love you, Brookie," strengthening their already-close friendship even more, to an extent that Brooke had always considered a point of no return. At least, until they stopped being the most important people in each other's lives, when boys entered the picture and somehow, they picked romance over their best friends and ended up breaking each other's hearts instead.
"P., I want back what we had," Brooke confessed quietly.
"I do, too, but we can't have it. Be honest with me, B. Davis…we can't go back to what we were before. You bitch-slapped me. You called me a whore."
Brooke looked down ashamedly.
"And me, I…I never made the effort I should have. Just look at the situation. You can't tell me we can go back to what we had. It was too late years ago, and it's too late now."
"Okay, fine, so maybe things can't be like before." Brooke searched Peyton's eyes, relaxing when she found the hopefulness she'd been searching for. "Maybe we can be better," she said softly. She let her words sink in. "Meet me for coffee tomorrow, Peyton, and let's do it again. I love you always, fake Goldilocks," she said fondly.
"More than time and anger and men and crappy friendship skills can get in the way of?" Peyton asked, raising her eyebrows.
"More than that," Brooke said seriously.
"I want it back so bad," Peyton confessed.
"So let's get it back," she said with a simple shrug of her shoulders.
Peyton cracked her pretty grin. "You always oversimplify…" she muttered, "but I love you always, too," she said with a quick roll of her eyes.
Brooke couldn't speak over the lump in her throat. "Coffee tomorrow," she mouthed, and at Peyton's reassuring nod, slipped out of the apartment.
A/N: This chapter was big for me, so throw me a review if you think my art matters. ;) And next chapter, I'm sure, will be big for you, considering two certain tall, broody blondes might find themselves in the same place...and at the same time, no less.
