A/N: You guys are breaking my review records all over the place. A million thanks, as always. This chapter is kinda-sorta filler, but it is important. This story is approaching the point when you'll finally find out why Jake is no longer in Peyton's life...and what happened between Lucas and Peyton eight years ago. I've had that chapter written for a really long time, so I'm pretty excited to finally be getting to it, and I hope you all are too.
I really need to start dedicating some attention to my other stories, not to mention all the scholarship essays I should be writing and assessments I should be completing, so I might not be updating too often...but then again, my muse for this story never seems to quit, so I guess we'll all just have to wait and see. Read and review, pretty please.
Continuo: a feature of most music, the continuo follows the base line of the music and is normally played by a chordal instrument. The base chords are then filled in my the harmonious instruments, embellishing the music to complete the piece.
Haley yawned, pulling on a sweater and doing up three of the buttons as she walked into the kitchen. Jenny shoved a pot of coffee across the counter toward her. "Need a pick-me-up?" she offered.
"Yes, thank you," Haley accepted, taking the mug out of Jenny's hands and taking a sip. "Mm, you brew good coffee."
"Yeah, especially when I make it for myself," Jenny replied pointedly, staring at the cup that Haley had just taken from her.
"You are way too young to be drinking coffee. You're way too young to know how to brew a good cup of coffee."
Jenny rested all her weight of one hip, her eyebrows flying upward. "My mom has been letting me drink coffee for a year."
Haley shrugged. She'd always known that Peyton would be more of a liberal parent than she was, and considering the minimal age difference between Peyton and Jenny, it was understandable. Still, it was her house, and she had her rules. "You can do whatever you want under your mother's roof, kiddo. At my house, you drink milk or juice."
"Some rock star," Jenny scoffed teasingly, reaching into the refrigerator and pulling out the orange juice. "Shouldn't you be showing me how to party?"
"Ha ha," Haley replied wryly. "In your dreams, honey." She stifled another yawn and took a couple gulps of caffeine.
"Why so tired? Is something bothering you?"
Haley smiled. Jenny had a good immediate sense of people; she was good at picking up emotional vibes – definitely a characteristic she'd inherited from Jake, and one that reminded Haley of herself. "I just couldn't sleep last night."
Jenny chugged her entire glass of juice. "Story of my life," she replied when she was done.
"Yeah?" Haley questioned curiously.
"I feel like…things are changing. It just makes it difficult for me to sleep." Jenny grimaced. "Do I sound crazy?"
Haley bit her lower lip lightly. "Not at all." She leaned down, resting her elbows on the counter. "So what do you think, Jen? Are things changing for better or worse?"
"A little bit of both," Jenny replied with certainty.
"Yeah," Haley sighed. "I figured you'd say that."
The problem was that she no longer had solid definitions of better or worse. What was better for some people could devastate others, and that was what made her so uneasy about it all.
Peyton was sitting on the bar at Tric, her feet propped up on a stool and her sketchpad balanced on her lap as she lazily doodled. She loved to see the success of the club at night, but she liked Tric best in the early mornings. In the soft light of the morning, it was tired from the previous day of activity, peacefully resting. When it was free of partiers, drunks, Chris Keller, and CMC kids, when the only music playing was not the steady thump of a hip-hop beat but the quiet strains of a broken guitar solo…that was when her beloved club, her first creative baby, belonged to her again.
It was the same with Lucas, the same sensation of having certain moments that were solely her. She wondered if she was destined to only have parts of things, only designated periods of time. One mom for eight years, the other for a month. Jake for a certain period of time, Lucas for specific moments. Her father when he showed up, and Jenny permanently.
Brooke appeared in the doorway, breaking Peyton's train of thought. Peyton stopped sketching, dropping her pencil as she watched Brooke lean against the doorframe tiredly, letting her designer bag dangle from her fingers. She spoke rather than actually hitting her knuckles against any surface: "Knock, knock."
Peyton gave her a weak but genuine smile in return. "Who's there?" she played along, as if Brooke was telling a joke. She wished she were.
The brunette paused for a moment before she replied, and when she did her answer was heavy with truth. "The same old story."
Peyton glanced down immediately. "Yeah…" she said softly.
They'd agreed to have better.
Couldn't they be better?
They stared at one another. Neither of them made any move to close the distance between them.
"I should go," Brooke said abruptly, hiking her purse up onto her shoulder and turning to leave.
"Brooke!" Peyton didn't move, but she spoke. "Wait."
When Brooke turned back around, she said earnestly. "I really do want to be better with you. You said it yourself. We can do it…can't way?"
Brooke's eyes flooded, full of tears and pain. "Oh, P. Sawyer, I don't know. I wish we could. I want that, too," she said mournfully. "But I…I don't think I can. It hurts me, Peyton…but I don't think it's possible for me to love both of you." She clapped a hand over her mouth, holding back sobs, and turned and ran. Her heels click-clacked against the floor, breaking the peace of Tric.
A tear dripped down onto Peyton's artwork, smudging the carefully placed lines that created an image.
Her problem was quite the opposite. She could have loved both Brooke and Lucas. Wholly and fiercely, she could have loved them both with everything within her.
If only they didn't love one another.
Brooke was lying on her stomach on the bed, lazily sketching some designs for her newest line. Really, she wasn't paying much attention to her work; she'd spent the last half hour spying on her husband, who was sitting in the wing backed chair in their room, typing furiously on his laptop.
They'd reached the sort of peace that came with an unspoken agreement not to touch their issues for a while, to just leave things alone, and had fallen into a routine that screamed of normalcy. The only problem with the kind of peace they currently had was that it was always tentative – just because they chose to ignore them, their issues didn't go away. And Brooke, for one, was sick of pretending.
"Got your muse back, babe?" she asked casually.
Lucas looked up, startled by her voice. "Uh…yeah. I guess an ultimatum can do that to a person. Lindsay told me that if I didn't get it together, my career as a writer would be over."
"Hm," Brooke murmured, studying him. She could feel it happening – she was slowly coming down from the high road she knew she should take. It was like being a teenager all over again, when her bitchiness and juvenile tactics got her ahead. She turned her attention to her drawing, her next words escaping her lips before she could think them over enough to stop them. "Peyton and Chris are dating."
Lucas glanced up, slack-jawed. "Excuse me? Chris Keller?"
His shock served to fuel her, egging her on. "Yeah. Well…" she smirked. "They're not exactly dating…but they're definitely having sex."
Her husband winced, closing his eyes for an instant as if to block out the mental image. He took a deep breath, collecting himself again and shaking his head a bit as if to rid himself of the idea. He closed his laptop and looked straight at Brooke. She shrunk a little under his gaze, which told her just what he thought of her at that moment."Oh, darn," he said, sounding a little like Haley did when she was being sarcastic. "That foils my whole plan to ditch you and seduce Peyton. Huh."
"Luke," she berated him, frowning.
He glared back. "Brooke, this isn't…right. There isn't a reason for you to be jealous, or upset, or insecure so just…leave it, please. You're better than this, and I think you know it."
She sighed, abandoning her sketches and flopping onto her back. "I know. I'm sorry, Luke…it's just thrown me off, having her back here. I wasn't lying before. She hasn't gotten really serious with a guy since Jake, she told me that. What if…even if you're not into her…what if she came back for you?"
"Brooke…Peyton's your best friend. Don't you have more faith in her, more trust?"
"Not since she started hooking up with my boyfriend in junior year. Not since she declared her love for the same boyfriend a year later."
"It's been, what, twelve years since she left? Peyton hasn't been pining for me all that time, Brooke. You have to know that's true."
"I want it to be true."
Lucas nodded. "So believe it. Please."
She took a deep breath. "Okay."
He smiled earnestly, a sight she'd been missing. "That's my girl," he said fondly, and it warmed her heart.
Broke smiled back coyly. "I missed you, Lucas Scott." She sat up, shedding her sweater, and quirked her eyebrows at him. "Come join me."
He grinned back, a bit sheepishly. "Brooke, I would love to…but I have to get this idea out of my head and written down so I can stop stressing about it. Besides, Miranda's going to be home so-"
"Mommy! Daddy!"
Brooke groaned. "Perfect timing," she sighed. As she stood up, she leaned over to him for a quick kiss. "You write. I've got to go say hi to Mrs. Anderson."
Downstairs, she greeted the mother of Miranda's friend warmly, offering her tea. She served Mrs. Anderson tea and gave juice to the little girls. They made polite, idle conversation while their daughters giggled together. Brooke was relieved when Mrs. Anderson stood up, excusing herself for an appointment she had to make it to, and called her daughter over to her. Brooke waved with one hand as they walked out, combing the fingers of her other hand through Miranda's hair. "How was your day, sweet girl?" she asked after the door shut behind them.
"Good! Is Daddy here?"
"He's writing right now, baby; why don't you and I play?"
"I want to play, too!" Lucas called in a teasingly wounded tone, pretending to feel left out. He jogged down the stairs, smiling at his daughter. "I've got my stuff down, I can add details later."
"Daddy," Miranda said happily, running over to him and throwing her arms around his leg.
"Hey, princess. What's on your mind?"
She gave him her prettiest smile. Brooke recognized it well. She could resist that adorable grin, but Lucas was absolutely powerless to it. "Can we go get ice cream?" Miranda pouted, gazing up at her father imploringly.
It came as no surprise to Brooke when he immediately agreed, but the loving smile Lucas directed at her over their daughter's head was a pleasant surprise. "As long as your mom agrees," Lucas told Miranda.
This time it was Brooke who had no resistance, unable to turn down an afternoon with her family. "Of course we can," she said, and she knew that Lucas was aware that it was her way of promising that she was going to do her best to let the whole Peyton thing go.
Haley had a recording appointment of her own that afternoon, so Nathan left the baby and the twins home with Jamie and Jenny, who were both competent guardians, and sought out Peyton.
He was worried about her. Haley had given him a rundown on Brooke's current emotional state, he himself had talked to Lucas, but he didn't know how Peyton was dealing with the fact that she'd seen Luke again. Haley was still angry with her, Brooke was clearly still dealing with some business, Jenny was spending most of her time on CMC activity, and Chris was still wounded. Nathan figured that she could use a friend.
He let himself into her apartment, which was surprisingly free of any music. Peyton was pointing all of the walls of her living room black. Peeking out from underneath on one wall Nathan could see the familiar-looking corner of those traffic lights that were somewhat of a signature of hers. On the wall she'd just begun to paint, JUST DANCE was written on the wall in big, blue, loopy letters, undoubtedly Jenny's doing and what Peyton was attempting to cover up.
She still hadn't sensed his presence, so he leaned against the doorframe and smirked, feeling a gentle sense of déjà vu. "What do you call that?" he asked quietly, referring to the blackened walls of the room.
Peyton turned around, setting down her paintbrush and smiling sadly at him as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Love," she said softly, the same word she'd used on the day he'd found her in her room, mourning the anniversary of her mother's death and covering an entire canvas in black paint.
Nathan nodded understandingly. "How're you holding up?"
"Okay. I'm okay."
He smiled. "Well…you know what makes okay just a little bit more bearable?"
Peyton arched an eyebrow.
"Ice cream," he answered his own question, extending an arm. "C'mon, Sawyer. This is nothing a little mint chocolate chip can't fix."
She smiled gratefully, tucking herself under his arm, curling into his chest a bit. They walked through the door together, and Nathan closed the door firmly behind him. She needed to get away from those black walls for a while.
They went to a popular ice cream place along the river walk and managed to snag good table, sitting while they ate. Nathan liked his ice cream in a cup rather than a cone; it was something Peyton had always mocked him for.
"So are you keeping up on business in L.A.?"
"I'm corresponding, yeah. My assistants are really awesome; they're running the place better than I normally do."
"I'm sure that's not true," he said automatically.
She smiled, clearly touched – if not a little amused – by his concern for her. "They're running it at least as well as I do, then. I think everything will be functioning as it should be when I get back."
Nathan nodded. "You're…going back, huh? For sure?"
"Jenny…she asked me the same thing the other day. Yes, Nathan, I am going back. I need to go back. It's my home now; my label, Jenny's school, friends…everything is in L.A. But Nate…it's not going to be like before. I'll keep in touch. I'll come back."
"Okay," he sighed, realizing that it would be useless to try to convince her otherwise. "I believe you."
"Thank you," she said earnestly, the gratitude clear in her green eyes, which were such a hazy shade that day that they were almost brown; the colour Peyton's eyes often appeared when she was in a particularly melancholy state. "Hey, can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
She shifted uneasily, giving him a gentle smile prior to asking her question, which she phrased casually, her tone enveloped in sympathetic kindness: "Where's Daddy Dearest?"
Nathan sighed and smiled back, understanding her curiosity. "Dan is in jail."
Peyton's eyebrows shot up. "Wh…what? Why?"
He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. Peyton mirrored his pose so that their faces were close; he could talk softly without her having to struggle to hear him. "Dan killed Keith, Peyton."
The colour drained out of her face, and Nathan instantly grasped the hand that she had resting on the table, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
"Dan killed Keith? How long have you known?" she gasped.
"Since twelfth grade…just before graduation. Luke figured it out."
Compassion and regret pooled together in Peyton's eyes, turning into empathetic pain. "That must have been so hard on him," she breathed. "He must have…"
"Needed you?" he filled in, so quietly that he wondered if she would have heard him.
But she did, her eyes flying up to meet his with panicked speed. "I…" she choked on her words, struggled to find the right ones, before finally attempting to save herself with, "And you, too, Nate…I'm sorry I wasn't here. You two deserved better. You all deserved better."
"No, Peyton…don't worry about us. You deserved happiness just as much as we all did. And you found it, right?"
"Yeah…I did. But I never should have…I'm sorry. I just need you to know that."
He nodded. "I missed you, Sawyer. But you don't need to apologize for what's happened to Dan…he never was much of a father anyway, you know that. Not an excellent dad like me," he added with a grin.
"You are, Nathan. A great dad, I mean."
He chuckled. "Thanks. You know, I think my kids are starting to like Jenny more than they do me. She's really great with them. I think Sebastian might love her almost as much as he loves you. Does she babysit or anything in L.A.? She's awesome with kids." He awaited her answer, and got no response. She seemed to be lost in something behind him. "Sawyer?" Still no response. "Peyton!" She snapped back to life, opening her mouth to speak, but all that left her lips was a small, strangled sound. His curiosity got the best of him and he turned in his seat to see what she'd been staring at.
The 'Second Scotts'. Lucas, Brooke, and Miranda sitting together at the counter of the place on those stools that spin, laughing together. Miranda, seated between them, said something that made both her parents laugh. Lucas' hand hovered in the air behind her back as she spun on her stool, keeping her safe in case she slipped; Brooke bent down to nuzzle her nose against Miranda's, sending the five-year-old into a fit of giggles.
Nathan sighed as he turned back to face Peyton. "You want to talk about it?"
"Hm?" she asked vulnerably, jumping a bit as she met his eyes again.
"Lucas. You want to talk about it?" he asked evenly.
"There's nothing to say."
"Uh-huh. Look, Peyton…I'm on your side."
"Oh, Nathan…" She sat back in her chair, frowning. "Don't do that. That's horrible. We're not kids. There's no competition, there aren't sides."
"Peyton…you know I love Brooke. I've known her for longer than I've known you, but –"
"Nate, please, don't. I don't know if I can hear this."
"I want you to," he insisted. "Brooke and I have known each other for a long time. We used to play together when we were kids. I'd throw my basketball at her dolls and she'd scream at me, and our mothers would joke that we'd get married someday…before they went back to bitching about their own issues. Brooke is a good person. She's a wonderful friend and a great wife, and she's an awesome mother. She's my friend and I love her. But, when it comes to you and Luke…" He shrugged. "I never loved you like I should have, Peyton, like you deserved, or like you needed me to. But I knew that he could. To me, Lucas wasn't just a threat to my game, but to my relationship with you."
"I can't believe that. You know I love you, but you wouldn't have really cared that much; our relationship wasn't exactly spectacular."
"Our relationship? No. But the sex sure as hell was."
"Nathan," she sighed, but smiled nonetheless.
"That's what it was about, then. That's who I was back then. And I was all territorial about you, all protective. I remember the first time I really saw Lucas look at you, the first time I watched him watching you. We were kids, fifteen, maybe? It was that day in Phys. Ed. that you fainted, do you remember that? You were sick, but you were too damn stubborn to stay at home."
She blushed, nodding. "Do you have a point here?"
"Yeah, I do. You collapsed, and Brooke and a bunch of the other girls ran over to you right away. Brooke was taking care of you. I bent down next to you to see if you were okay, and over your shoulder I saw Lucas watching. And the way he looked at you, Peyton…" Nathan shook his head. "It was so caring, and deep. I couldn't help but think that I'd never looked at you like that."
"I don't see how this is supposed to…comfort…me in any way, Nate," she whispered.
"Luke is your guy, Peyton. I know that you know that, and I think that he does, too."
"Stop," she warned him.
"I understand, okay? It's alright. I'm not attacking you, I'm trying to tell you that I get it, that…I'm here for you. So tell me what it is."
Peyton sighed heavily. She was obviously unhappy with him, but it was also clear that she needed to get whatever the hell was bugging her off her chest. "It's not Lucas," she said quietly. "It's just…look at them," she sighed, jutting her chin out slightly toward the Scott family, looking cozy and sweet as Brooke leaned in to kiss Lucas over Miranda's head. "This is going to sound stupid, but…I had that first," she choked out, before getting a hold of herself. "With Jake and Jenny, you know? The guy who loved me and the perfect little girl…at least, most of the time she was perfect," she added with a small, private smile.
"Are you ever going to tell me what happened with Jake?" Nathan asked just as quietly, trying to get her to finally divulge some information.
She shook her head, slinging her purse onto her shoulder as she stood. "Nathan, thank you for this, but I've got to go. You're being great, and I really am sorry about your dad."
He sighed, shaking his head. She was always avoiding something or someone. Always running away, in hopes of keeping her heart safe. He stood up, too, giving up for the moment. The last thing Peyton needed was another lecture. "Yeah, I guess I should get home, too. But listen, Sawyer, I want you to know that I'm with you. I'm on Team Peyton."
Part of him expected a scowl and a scolding about the way he was thinking, but instead he got a bone-crushing hug. "I love you, Nathan, you know that?" she said quietly as she clung to him for one last moment, taking a very deep breath and pulling herself together before she stepped back, looking at him fondly. "Maybe I should've stayed with you, y'know? It seemed a lot easier. And there was all that spectacular sex." She grinned, slapping his ass and throwing him a wink before she hurried off.
Nathan blushed a little, rolling his eyes. "So you admit it was just that good?" he called teasingly after her, not really expecting a response.
As playful and lighthearted as Peyton seemed as she walked away from him, her blonde curls bouncing softly on her shoulders, he couldn't help but think of her returning to that apartment and hiding herself within its black walls.
A/N: Reviews will keep me smiling until I finally get to watch those L/P scenes we've been promised in 6.05.
