A/N Hi all thanks so much for your interest in this, I know there's been a lot of issues with not being able to see the first chapter but hopefully FF will sort itself out now this chapters up! I don't think anyone is quite as excited about this collaboration as me (Believe me, it took a lot of persuasion to get Elsie writing again) Anyway, basically we're going to write alternate chapters, obviously there's a lot of discussing of ideas/storyline/writing etc going on but so far having two different viewpoints has been nothing but fun! -Emera.
When Peyton Sawyer was six years old she ran away from home.
She'd wanted to go to the park but her Mother had been too busy with ironing and her father at work.
She'd made it to the street corner before she got scared.
She'd sat there for what felt like hours to a six year old but in reality it had only been fifteen short minutes before Mrs Carter from across the road had found her and walked her back. In her childish mind she'd thought herself an orphan for that short quarter of an hour.
Anna Sawyer had opened the front door, her face etched in surprise as her small daughter flung herself into her arms.
Peyton had then proceeded to sob that she didn't want to be an orphan. That she didn't want to run away from home.
Anna had rocked her in her lap and softly told her she wasn't an orphan, nor would she ever be. She promised that she'd always have a mother and father that loved her more than she'd ever know and that they'd be there forever.
It was a promise Anna had kept to this very day.
But now, at the age of twenty three Peyton knew it wasn't a realistic promise. They wouldn't be here forever. Anything could happen. Sure they could live a full and happy life but they could just as easily be taken from her in a tragic accident. Her father could die at sea. Someone could run a red light and kill her mother on impact.
The future was unforeseen.
Innocent people died every day. Innocent people like Haley and Nathan Scott.
They'd been young and successful. They'd been one of a kind.
Everyone had been sceptical of their relationship; they'd met at fifteen and married a year later and the town had frowned upon their young union.
No one had thought such an inexperienced couple could stand the test of time.
Peyton had never understood it. She'd never understood how people could be so judgemental. It was simple to her.
She'd seen it so clearly. Even if they'd been young, their love had been undeniable.
They were naive in ways, yes. But there had never been anything naive about their love.
When they'd gotten pregnant two years later everyone had muttered under their breaths about how they'd just thrown away their future because of their ignorance.
Maybe it had been an accident. Maybe they had been careless. But they'd handled Jamie's arrival with nothing but maturity.
They hadn't ever lost sight of their dreams. They'd juggled their education and parenthood.
It hadn't been easy but they'd gotten through and their success had been nothing but deserved.
They'd been financially secure. They'd been enjoying every second they had with their son. They'd been happy.
And then it was all gone.
In an instant it was taken away.
Jamie was an orphan.
Peyton could remember that feeling at six when she'd ran away. When she'd been homeless for fifteen minutes. She can remember being terrified. Her wild imagination had had her believing she'd have to grow up without her parents.
Jamie couldn't run back home and be swooped into his mother's arms as she had though. Haley couldn't tell him she'd be there forever and Peyton didn't know how the hell to make sure he was going to be okay.
How did you explain to him that his parents had been victims? That they'd not intentionally left him?
'Jamie sweetie' Peyton's hands settle on the little boy's shoulders. 'This is Lucas. You remember what we talked about?' She holds his hands and crouches down to his level, all but sitting on the floor.
His eyes shift around and he gnaws on his bottom lip.
'About your uncle coming to take care of you?' She reminds.
Still he says nothing.
'This is your Uncle Lucas, Jamie'
She's smiling and her voice is all sugary and Lucas isn't surprised that this kid is clinging onto her hand for dear life.
Uncle. An Uncle is a brother of one's father or mother. Your Uncle was usually someone you were familiar with, that you knew. Someone that looked out for you. That came to see you to wish you a happy Birthday. That spent Christmas with you teaching you tricks and rude jokes that your mother didn't approve of.
Lucas is none of these things to James Scott.
He is a stranger.
Jamie shakes his head to demonstrate that simple fact.
'I know this is confusing sweetie' Peyton sits herself fully on the tiled floor now, pulling Jamie's body onto her lap. He rests his head onto her chest and whispers something into her neck that Lucas can't interpret from across the room.
It's obvious to him that she's known this little boy all his life, that they have a relationship, that he trusts her.
'I know' She coos in response to whatever he just confided. 'But I'm going to see you all the time' She assures him.
'I want you to come'
He hears Jamie's innocent little voice this time.
Peyton clenches her eyes closed and kisses the top of his head.
She wants to say yes. She wants to give him what he wants but she knows it'll make it harder in the long run. The quicker he gets use to this arrangement, the better.
'I know' She cups his little cherub cheeks. 'But I'm not allowed to look after you sweetie. We talked about this' She kisses his forehead. 'Besides you're going to get to go live back in your own house and you'll have so much fun with your Uncle Lucas'
He doesn't look too convinced and neither does she as her stare wanders back to Lucas' hovering figure.
He licks his lips nervously. She's looking at him expectantly and those narrowed green eyes have him walking towards them.
'That's right Jamie' He nods and smiles as best he can but it's unnatural and nothing in the way of reassuring.
Peyton goes on to explain all sorts of things to Lucas. She tells him of allergies. Nuts and dogs. She tells him of bedtime routines and kindergarten times. She tells him everything she knows and in retrospect, although it seems a lot, it's not. She doesn't know everything.
She doesn't know what songs to sing to him at bedtime, nor his favourite story. She doesn't know that he's allowed a chocolate biscuit and a glass of milk before bed. She doesn't know that he's afraid of the dark and she doesn't know of the monster check Nathan conducted every night; under the bed, in the closet, behind the door and only then did he settle down for sleep.
Lucas listens carefully. He's overwhelmed and there's no way he's able to mentally memorise all this information and then she moves onto safety and his eyes narrow.
She's patronising him and he doesn't appreciate it but he endures it nonetheless.
Her voice eventually fades out and before Lucas can get himself in check, Peyton's hugging the little boy and kissing his forehead and promising to see him the next day and Lucas is walking out, only he's not on his own this time. He has a Monsters Inc. back pack slung over his arm and he's suddenly responsible for the little person beside him.
Jamie doesn't cry when Lucas' hand settles gingerly on his shoulder, steering him away from Peyton. He doesn't cry as he's walked out of her house. He doesn't cry as he's put in a waiting taxi.
He still has Haley's night shirt clutched in his hands. When he was a baby he'd had a velvety green comforter with his dummy secured onto a corner and he'd taken it everywhere. Like most children, when he was ready "hugga" as a baby Jamie had called it, was eventually surrendered and forgotten in favour of exploring the wonders of his new exciting world. Now it lived under his pillow and whenever he needed a little bit of comfort it was there for a little hug. Only his "hugga" couldn't comfort him now. His Mother's basket ball jersey had become his comfort blanket and he was in no way ready to surrender it.
It had been a confusing two weeks for Jamie Scott.
He's been bustled from house to house, from person to person. He's spent a vast amount of time being spoken to by strangers that speak funny and smile way too much and tell him that everything's going to be just fine.
The social workers are wrong.
He's five and his Mummy and Daddy are gone. Thing's aren't fine.
Peyton hadn't told him everything would be fine. When they'd let him go to her she'd just held him in her arms all night long.
He's completely silent as they're driven the short ten minutes to the house he's been brought up in.
He's going home.
He's returning to an environment of normality and he needs normalcy right now.
He needs familiar surroundings, he needs to be as close to them as possible, even if they no longer exist in this world.
Lucas pays the taxi driver and Jamie hurries ahead to the front door.
Lucas wonders if he thinks he's going to run inside and see his parents and maybe a part of the five year old's mind does think that.
The door is opened and they walk in.
The child is suddenly lost in his home. He clutches Haley's jersey top to his nose, inhaling her perfume that lingers.
Lucas watches his little eyes scan the premises and wonders what he's thinking.
He's remembering the last time he was here. It's Saturday morning. Haley is playing the piano. Nathan is watching basket ball.
'Are you hungry?'
Jamie looks up at him.
He's not use to kids. The only child experiences he can relate to is his own. Only he doesn't think his fucked up childhood can be likened to Jamie Scott's.
Jamie's still silent and Lucas' instinct is to yell at him to just speak already because he's not a fucking mind reader but his adult mind reminds him that that's the last thing that will aid him in this situation.
They're both tired. They're both confused. But he's the adult.
He looks at the clock. It's 7pm.
'You must be hungry' He decides, walking ahead into the kitchen. 'Is there anything in particular you like?'
This time he's not the least bit surprised when he doesn't get a verbal response.
'Right' He nods. The kids mute. Deal with it.
He fumbles through the cupboards, navigating his way around the kitchen.
It's well stocked.
There's no easy junk food though.
No ready made meals in sight.
He groans in frustration.
Cooking isn't his thing.
He settles for a box of cheerios and locates a bowl, filling it with the breakfast cereal.
Jamie watches on with curiosity, his inquisitive blue eyes withholding so many thoughts.
Cereal is for breakfast time. That's not my bowl. Mummy always gets me the bowl with trucks on. Mummy doesn't give me as much as that.
Lucas doesn't need the five year old to verbalise his thoughts, he can read his little face. He knows he's not supplying the most nutritious nor exciting of dinners but he's not equipped in producing wonderful home made delights. So he ignores Jamie's confused expression and holds the bowl out to him.
Jamie cautiously takes it in his small hands and walks away into the living room.
Lucas follows.
They sit at opposite ends of the large leather sofa.
Silence.
Jamie toys with his food, slipping his digits in and out of the cheerio rings.
He doesn't eat any.
'You wanna watch TV?'
Lucas breaks the eerie quiet.
He flips through the hundreds of channels. There's nothing kid appropriate on so he settles for the sports channel.
Lucas sighs and scratches the back of his head. He opens and closes his mouth, looking for words to say but he doesn't know what to say to kids. He doesn't know what they like to talk about.
He is so completely out of his depth.
When his wavering eyes return to the little boy, Jamie's fallen asleep. He's still sitting on the sofa but his little head has dropped forward. His hands are in his uneaten bowl of cheerios and he's still wearing his jacket.
It takes a lot to break through Lucas's hard exterior but as he sits at the opposite end of the chair to his nephew he experiences something.
He's ashamed.
He's regretting his decision already because Peyton Sawyer's earlier judging eyes and patronising tone are all justified.
She's right in her judgements.
He's never been responsible for anyone or anything but himself.
He's ashamed because it's not even been half an hour and the kid is past out with his coat still zipped up to his neck and his hands in a bowl of soggy cereal. His cheeks are flushed red and his neck bent and Lucas feels completely inadequate because he's not right for this job.
He stares at the small hunched figure and sees himself.
It's beginning to freak him out how similar James Scott is to himself. He's like a clone.
Only when Lucas was his age his hair wasn't neatly trimmed, it was long and unkempt and his clothes weren't from a designer store, they were old hand me downs.
They may be related. They may look related but Lucas was sure that was where the similarities ended.
He pushes himself from his seat and hesitantly makes the two paces over to Jamie. Carefully, he pries the bowl from his hands and sets it on the coffee table. Jamie doesn't move. He's exhausted and again doesn't so much as stir as Lucas lifts him into his arms and goes in search of a child's room.
Jamie's heavy breaths tickle his neck and his dangling, floppy arm sways as they ascend the stairs.
He soon finds a white door with blue wooden letters spelling out James.
The room is everything a child could ever want. It's big. It's green. The bed is dressed in truck bedsheets and the curtains match and there's toys and books.
Lucas perches on the bed and awkwardly removes Jamie's shoes and then his coat, struggling to get his limbs through the arm holes.
Despite his floundering fingers, Jamie doesn't wake but Lucas doesn't dare to undress him any further. He doesn't want to frighten him and sleeping in his day clothes won't harm him.
So he pulls the covers back and lays his head sandy blonde hair against the pillow.
As Lucas' eyes sail over every inch of Jamie, he fosters a glimpse at the life he could have had, had he been put into his biological father's care.
He could have had a room just like this. He could have lived down this very same street.
Only he hadn't. He'd had a very different upbringing and with that thought Lucas realises that he's dismissed something he does have in common with this five year old. Perhaps the most significant similarity. Perhaps the whole reasoning behind his brazen decision to be here.
Neither one of them has any parents.
And that parallel is bigger then any physical resemblance. It's binding.
And despite his ignorance and incompetence at parenting, he's the only one that can fully understand how alone Jamie feels.
On paper he's most definitely not the best choice. But, he's the only one that can relate to the abandonment Jamie's surely feeling, he's perhaps the only one that can help in Jamie's recovery from such trauma.
He's yet to realise it, but he's the five year old's very best chance.