Funny how home looks different the first time you return, he mused as he put away his CD player and pulled his jacket down from the overhead rack. No one sat near Dawson; nearly empty, the bus had dropped off most of its passengers in Boston an hour and a half ago. Dawson made sure he closed all the pockets on his backpack, and he glanced up as the bus chugged across the empty intersection and slid beneath the overhang at the Greyhound station. And the train station. And any other way you want to get out of Capeside, except by boat. He allowed himself a smile; the first time he’d taken a bus had been with Joey, at the end of their sophomore year, to visit her father in jail. That trip had led to their first kiss.

Dawson rubbed his eyes and shook his head. Funny the things your brain never lets you forget, he thought as the bus eased to a stop. Two girls traveling together in the front of the bus stood up and began to take their suitcases down from the luggage rack. "Welcome to Capeside," the driver announced. "Last and final stop for this bus. And as always, thank you for riding Greyhound. We hope to see you again soon."

Dawson chuckled to himself as he donned his jacket and stood up. "Six days, you’ll see me again," he muttered, grabbing his own suitcase and slinging his backpack over his shoulder. He followed the girls off the bus and wished the driver a good holiday.. "The same to yourself, young man," the driver replied, and Dawson stepped off the bus into a windy November evening.

It’s always cold on the water, he thought, taken aback for a moment as a gust of wind whipped past him. The girls scooted inside the tiny office, and Dawson traced their footsteps, glancing around him as he opened the door. Least it hasn’t snowed here yet, he noticed; he walked inside the small terminal.

The smell of brewing coffee hit him like a warm breath, and he smiled as he shut the door behind him.

"Well, it’s about time," a voice called to him from one of the unbreakable plastic chairs that decorated the waiting area.

"Pacey!" Dawson said, moving over to his friend. "Hey, man, thanks for coming to pick me up."

Pacey stood up, smiling broadly. "Good to see ya, bud. I didn’t think you were ever gonna get in." Pacey glanced around. "This isn’t exactly the safest place to wait around, you know?"

"What’s so bad about the bus station?" Dawson wondered.

"I didn’t say bad," Pacey told him. "I said unsafe. First the ticket lady tries to hit on me--"

"Come on, Pacey," Dawson laughed.

Pacey raised an eyebrow. "You think I’m kiddin’? You know my charms are irresistible to older women."

Both young men laughed. "I remember," Dawson admitted.

Pacey nodded his head in the direction of the two girls who had arrived with Dawson; they were standing by the coffee machine. "And then you waltz in here with the Snowbunny twins." Pacey wiggled his eyebrows. "That’s all well and good for you, Dawson, but I’m a taken man! I’m spoken for. Not on the market."

Dawson chuckled. "I don’t see any rings," he teased Pacey. "Or have you suddenly developed some sort of warped sense of responsibility?"

Ignoring Dawson’s question, Pacey asked, "And what’s that thing on your face?" He rubbed the area around his own mouth to highlight the query.

"What? My goatee?" Dawson wondered.

"Is that what you’re calling that patch of blonde fuzz?" Pacey quizzed his friend. "Personally, Dawson, I think ‘goatee’ is being generous."

"Generous?"

"Yeah," Pacey said. "Now, if you were calling it ‘my shaving accident,’ or maybe, ‘my required facial hair to fit in at film school,’ then maybe I could cut you some slack."

"Cut me some slack?" Dawson echoed.

Pacey nodded. "From the merciless teasing I’ll be forced to give you about it while you’re here."

Dawson blinked. "Wonderful."

Pacey patted Dawson on the back. "Come on, Dawson, let’s get you out of this highly public place so we can grill each other to our hearts’ content in private."

"About what?" Dawson asked.

Pacey gave him a sly look. "College. Babes. Keg parties. What did you think, Dawson? You go away and leave me here in Capeside and you think I’m not gonna force you-- physically if necessary-- to talk about all that wild partying you’re doing?" Pacey shook his head. "You may have forgotten in the last three months, but there’s a reason you decided to go to a school hours away."

"Because they have a strong film program?" Dawson offered as Pacey steered him toward the other exit to the small terminal.

Pacey laughed as he opened the door. "Sure, tell yourself that if you like, Dawson. But the real reason you went so far away was to get the hell out of Capeside." He turned to face his friend. "And you know, despite the fact that you stranded me here in Nowhere Land, I can’t really blame you."

Dawson chuckled. "That’s very generous of you, Pacey," he said, opening the door of a pickup truck and sliding his suitcase behind the seat. "Still traveling in style?"

Pacey nodded. "They don’t pay me that much to manage Video Visions," he told Dawson. "And, hey, it still runs."

They got in the car and Pacey turned it over; heat blasted out of the dash.

"Do you really think I stranded you in Capeside?" Dawson asked Pacey.

"Dawson," Pacey began, and then he glanced away. He looked back at his friend. "Not really, no. You did what you had to do, and what you had to do was get the hell away from here." Pacey aimed one of the air vents at the ceiling, trying to warm up the whole car. "Not that I can blame you for bolting. If I had been in your situation, I’d’ve done the same thing."

Pacey flicked on the lights. "Frankly, I’m surprised you came home for Thanksgiving."

Dawson shrugged. "Come on, Pacey, it wasn’t that bad." He rubbed his hands in front of the heater. "I’ll admit I wasn’t sorry I had been accepted to Syracuse when all of that happened, but it wasn’t like I chose to go that far for that reason. I’m going to S.I. Newhouse because they’ve got a great film department, not because I had some burning desire to leave Capeside, or because I was trying to avoid..." He stopped.

Pacey put the car in drive. "You see, Dawson, that’s what I mean. You still can’t even say her name." Pacey looked at his friend as he turned out of the parking lot and on to the street. "I can’t blame you for wanting to be far away from someplace that’s gonna remind you day in and day out of Joey Potter.."

Dawson folded his arms and stared out the window as Pacey drove.

"I see three months hasn’t done a whole lot to help you with that," Pacey said quietly as he drove down the dark, empty streets.

"You think we could change the subject?" Dawson asked.

"I think we can arrange that," Pacey agreed.

"In fact," Dawson said. "Do you think it’s possible, for the whole less than a week that I am here, that we could not talk about her at all?"

"Hey, Dawson," Pacey said, "fine by me. I’m not the one who has trouble keeping his mind off his ex-girlfriend. You want a Joey-free week? From here on in, my friend, you got it."

Dawson just glared out the window. Pacey came to a stop sign and asked, "Mom’s or Dad’s?"

"What?" Dawson asked.

"You want me to take you to your mom’s or your dad’s place?"

Dawson scratched his chin. "Mitch’s place. Gale’s out of town until tomorrow."

Pacey nodded. "To Mitch’s it is, then," he said, turning left on to another empty street.

B

Dawson fumbled with his keys in the dark, trying to find the one that would open the door to his father’s apartment.

"I thought you said he’d be home," Pacey said.

"That’d make two of us. I have no idea where he is."

Pacey glanced down. "Jesus, Dawson, got enough keys?"

Dawson laughed as he examined a blue metallic key; he tried it, but it didn’t work. "Mitch’s place, home, back door at home, garage, dorm room, dorm front door, equipment locker at the gym, film supply cabinet, projectionist’s room..." Dawson trailed off as he held up a key. "A-ha! Got it!"

He slipped it in the knob and opened the door; he and Pacey shuffled inside quickly, shutting out the cold.

"At least he left a light on," Pacey commented as he set down Dawson’s suitcase.

Mitch Leery owned a studio apartment; a few half-walls subdivided the large room to give some areas some privacy, but for the most part the dwelling consisted of open space. It had taken Dawson some getting used to when his father had first moved in here, because in so many ways this place asserted itself as not being home. Mitch kept the place spotless, almost spartan, with no decorations save for a few candles here and there and a Patrick Nagel print over the fireplace.

"Same old bachelor pad," Dawson remarked as he dropped his backpack on one long leather couch.

"Actually," Pacey said, "he just got the fireplace working."

Dawson raised his eyebrows. "Pacey? You visit my dad on a regular basis?"

Pacey shrugged. "I’ve been over here a few times, yeah."

Dawson laughed uneasily. "What, do you two go cruising for babes together?"

Pacey chuckled as he moved to the fridge. "Yeah, right. Andie would kill me, and I don’t even wanna know what Amanda would..."

Dawson’s brow furrowed. "Amanda?"

Pacey stared into the refrigerator, firmly keeping his back to Dawson. "Whoops," he mumbled.

"Mitch has a girlfriend?" Dawson asked, moving over into the kitchen area.

Pacey grabbed a beer and offered one to Dawson, who declined. Pacey shut the door and said, "I’m guessing he didn’t exactly tell you about her."

Dawson folded his arms. "Good guess."

Pacey popped open the beer. "Come on, Dawson, don’t let it piss you off. Your folks have been divorced almost two years. Don’t you think it’s natural that he’d eventually find someone else?"

Dawson frowned. "I would’ve thought it was natural to stay married to the woman he loved."

Pacey took a sip from the beer. "You have got to let go of that nineteenth century view of romance," he said. "That’s what got you where you are, you know."

Dawson shrugged. "Don’t remind me."

"Anyway, to answer your earlier question, yeah, I come over here once in a while, if I’m working late or whatever. Your dad’s been good to me in the past couple of months, and hell, I think me dropping by helps him with you."

Dawson raised an eyebrow. "You wanna even try to explain that one?"

Pacey took a long tug off the beer. "Ech, Miller." He grimaced. "He got a great price, though."

"Pacey..." Dawson insisted.

"Oh, the surrogate son thing, yeah." Pacey nodded. "You know your dad misses you, right?"

Dawson nodded.

"So, when I’m here, it’s like a piece of you is here with me."

Dawson blinked. "He said that? My dad?"

"Not in so many words," Pacey admitted.. "Actually, not at all. But I can tell." He wagged a finger at Dawson. "You know, you two share that in common."

"What’s that?" Dawson asked.

Pacey finished off the beer and belched loudly. "Neither one of you is good with saying what he feels."

"Pacey Witter, psychologist in training," Dawson said, moving past him and fishing a Coke out of the refrigerator.

"Hey, it doesn’t take a genius, Dawson.. You and your dad may not be that much alike in some areas, but when it comes to women, you’re exactly the same."

Dawson popped open the Coke. "Why do I feel a lecture coming on?"

"No lecture," Pacey corrected him. "Just an observation. You Leery men have got to learn to loosen up with your women. If I was as uptight as you and your dad, Andie would have run screaming away from me a long time ago."

Dawson took a long drink from his soda and gave Pacey a dark look.

Pacey held his hands up. "Don’t let me intrude on your personal territory here, Dawson."

Dawson merely shook his head.

"Hey," Pacey said, softening his tone. "Remember how you kept telling your dad to just forgive your mom after she cheated on him and get on with it? That she made a mistake, and all that?"

Dawson nodded.

Pacey raised his eyebrows. "Seems to me you should listen to your own advice." Pacey opened the fridge and took another beer out. "Or at the very least do what your dad did and find some other incredibly vivacious, attractive woman to help you move past it."

Dawson looked up, meeting Pacey’s eyes. "This is your idea of not talking about Joey? To dance around the subject of her with every sentence?"

Pacey sipped his beer. "Hey, a real friend knows which requests to honor and which to ignore."

Dawson shook his head.

"Dawson, has it ever occurred to you that maybe, just maybe, it might be better if you didn’t bottle everything up? If you didn’t just try to sweep it all under some huge rug and ignore it?" Pacey took another sip, wincing at the terrible taste. "Because, I gotta tell you, that approach is not helping you, my friend. At all."

Dawson put down his Coke. "Pacey, you said it yourself-- I left town to get away from all this." He looked in his friend’s eyes. "I didn’t come home so I could hear how I screwed up things with Joey. Me! When it was Joey who--" Dawson stopped suddenly and exhaled. "It’d just be easier if we avoided all this, and--"

Pacey interrupted, "Easier, maybe, Dawson, but not better for you. You have got to move on, buddy. When you cut your ties to someone, that’s what you do. You let them go. That’s why it’s called breaking up." Pacey took a drink from his beer. "You covered that part. Now, you have to work on the getting over her part."

Dawson spread his arms. "That’s what I’m doin’," he assured Pacey.

Pacey gave him a skeptical look.

"Well, that’s what I’m trying to do, if a certain friend would kindly stop mentioning her." Dawson lowered his eyebrows at Pacey.

Pacey stared at him for a long moment, then shook his head. "Sure. Why not? I’ll play along."

Dawson sighed. "Good."

Pacey moved toward him. "But don’t you dare say one word to me about it if you happen to bump into her, or..."

"Pacey, I’m not gonna bump into her. I’m only here six days. Not a chance."

Pacey shrugged. "Anything’s possible."

Dawson raised an eyebrow. "Something you’re not telling me here, Pacey?"

Pacey took a hit on his beer. "Only that you aren’t the only Capeside High alumni coming home for the holiday."

Dawson froze for a moment, then smiled. "Well, of course not," he agreed awkwardly.

"And you do live right across the river from her..."

Dawson held up a hand. "Stop..."

Pacey made a sweeping motion, then mimed lifting a rug. "Gotcha."

Dawson shook his head. "You know what your problem is?"

"Overactive glands?" Pacey asked him.

"Your other problem," Dawson deadpanned.

"Achievementphobia?"

Dawson gave Pacey a look.

"Enlighten me, oh mighty filmmaker," Pacey said.

"Your problem is that you’ve gone three months without Andie." Dawson smiled. "And so instead of focusing on that, you’re scrutinizing my little situation."

"Oh please, Dawson, don’t try to shift the spotlight on to my hormonal issues, when you know full well...."

Pacey stopped as the door opened up and a blast of cold air swept through the room.

"Dawson!" his father said, entering the apartment and closing the door behind him. Mitch held a bag of groceries in one arm, which he set down on the counter as he came in. "Damn good to see you. Sorry I was late." He shook his head. "You know, the damn restaurant. Everybody stays home on Thanksgiving, so they have to go out every night before it, I guess." He nodded to Pacey. "Hey, Pacey."

"Mr. Leery," Pacey offered.

"Hey, Dad," Dawson said, coming over and giving his father a hug. Mitch held his son close for a long moment, smiling proudly as he let him go.

"Boy, have I missed you," he told Dawson. "You look good." He frowned. "Except..."

"What?"

"What’s that on your face?" Mitch asked.

Pacey roared.

B

"Absolutely, dad. I’m doing great. It’s like being a kid in a candy store. All everybody wants to talk about is film. Film theory, film history, writing, directing..." He shook his head. "It’s terrific."

Mitch smiled as he watched his son talk; after Pacey had left, Mitch had turned the lights down low and started a fire. He and Dawson sat bathed in yellow light; Mitch cradled a beer in his thick hand, while his son had stuck with soda.

"That’s great to hear, Dawson, it really is." Mitch shook his head. "I don’t know-- I have to tell you, I was kind of worried when you won that scholarship."

Dawson frowned. "What?"

Mitch waved a hand. "Oh, it had nothing to do with talent. I know you have that. And if they gave it out for passion, you’d get a grant for life."

Dawson smiled.

"But a scholarship..." Mitch set his beer down on the end table, careful to center it on the coaster. "I was just afraid you wouldn’t learn the value of hard work. I know you had to achieve at school to get that scholarship. And I know you’ve won prizes and gotten grants before. I knew you were good from all that. But there’s a difference between having talent, and having the work ethic to back it up."

"Dad," Dawson said, "I’ve always worked hard on the movies I’ve made."

"Don’t get me wrong, Dawson. I’m not trying to sell you short. Far from it. But everything seemed to come so easy for you. You got good grades in school. You made movies from nothing-- and they were really good." Mitch shrugged. "I don’t know, call it a father’s insecurity. I was just afraid that when you went to college you were gonna hit some stiff competition, and for the first time you weren’t gonna be head and shoulders above everyone else. So when you got that scholarship..."

"Dad, I wasn’t head and shoulders above everyone else." Dawson sipped on his soda. "I came in fourth in my class."

Mitch threw up a hand. "Head and shoulders above everyone else but three kids. And where did they go to college?"

"One went to Brandeis, one went to RISDI, and..." Dawson frowned. "I don’t know where the third guy went."

"Risdee?" Mitch asked.

"It’s a design school in Rhode Island," Dawson said, looking away.

Mitch looked at his son. "An art school? Didn’t Joey go to some art school?"

Dawson nodded.

"Ah, okay." Mitch leaned forward. "But did any of them follow their dreams like you have?"

Dawson looked up at his father with a pained expression on his face.

"Oh, Jesus, sorry, Dawson. Right, no Joey." Mitch grimaced. "Look, what I meant to say was, you’ve wanted to make movies all your life. It’s your dream-- it’s what you live for. And now you’re doing it, and from what you tell me you’re doing damn good at it. How many other college freshmen can say that? That they’re following their dream and succeeding at it? Damn few, I bet."

Dawson nodded. "Probably."

Mitch removed his feet from the coffee table and sat forward in the chair. "The point I’m trying to make, Dawson, is that you’re doing what you want and you’re doing it well. I was worried that with so much handed to you, you might not have the..." Mitch glanced about as if he could find the right words visually. "Well, the stamina, the guts, to hang in there if things got tough for you." He met Dawson’s eyes. "But you’ve proved that worry groundless, Dawson. I’m proud of you."

Dawson grinned, a bit embarrassed by his father’s open praise. "Thanks, dad."

"Just don’t slack off because you’re ahead of the curve," Mitch told him.

"Never have, Dad," Dawson said.

Mitch nodded. "Yeah, guess not." He leaned back in the chair. "And whatever you do, if for some ungodly reason the film thing doesn’t work out, don’t do what your old man did and open a restaurant." Mitch closed his eyes. "It’s long hours, nothing but hard work, and you’re dead tired every night."

"Sounds pretty much the same as making a movie," Dawson told his father.

Mitch opened one eye. "Guess it does, doesn’t it?" he asked.

Dawson nodded.

"So, you’re staying with your mother the rest of your time here?"

Dawson took a deep breath. "That’s the plan. But we can change it if you want. I can crash here a night or two, if that works."

Mitch closed his eye. "I want you to do what you want to do, Dawson. This is your break. You wanna stay here the whole time? Stay here. You want to stay with your mom? Stay with her. Whatever you want." He yawned. "You’re not gonna be here that long. I just want to make sure I see you enough."

Dawson smiled. "How much constitutes enough?"

"Every moment I’m not at the restaurant," Mitch said.

Dawson laughed. "Not too demanding, are you dad?"

Mitch smiled. "That’s not what the staff says."

The two men laughed for a minute, and then Dawson wondered, "Can I ask you a question?"

"You can always ask," Mitch assured him.

"When were you gonna mention Amanda?"

Mitch looked at Dawson. "Amanda?"

"Yeah. You know, your girlfriend?"

Mitch rubbed his forehead. "Was it the first thing out of Pacey’s mouth when he picked you up?"

Dawson shook his head. "No, actually, he slipped. Did you ask him not to tell me?"

Mitch nodded yes.

"Because..." Dawson said.

"Because I know how you feel about the whole divorce issue. And since you were only here a week, I didn’t to make it any more complicated for you than it already is."

"Trust me, dad, it’s plenty complicated."

Mitch raised an eyebrow.

Dawson shook his head. "Nothing. Forget it." He sighed. "Next thing... what, I find out mom has a boyfriend?"

Mitch said nothing.

Dawson’s face dropped. "Mom has a boyfriend??"

Mitch picked up his beer. "He’s thirty-six."

"Jesus!" Dawson said. "I always knew you guys were horny, but I thought that was just with each other." He shook his head. "I didn’t know that was a permanent state you both lived in."

"Dawson," Mitch said sharply.

"Well, that is what got us here, didn’t it? Mom couldn’t control herself, and you couldn’t deal with it, and..." Dawson shut his eyes. "Damn it."

Mitch sat up in the chair and put his hand on Dawson’s shoulder. "Dawson, don’t." He rubbed his son’s back. "Going there is just asking for pain. Your mother and I did what was best for us. I’m sorry it wasn’t what you wanted for us, and I’m sorry we hurt you. But we would have killed each other-- and hurt you even worse-- if we had tried to stay together any longer than we did."

Dawson looked over at his dad. "Since when did you get so good at this? What happened to, ‘We decided and that’s final, Dawson.’"

Mitch said softly, "Amanda told me to just say what I felt to you."

"Amanda? Your girlfriend?"

Mitch nodded.

"She knows about me?"

Mitch nodded. "Of course she does. She knows about everyone I love."

"And she told you to open up to me?"

"If that was what you needed," Mitch told him softly, "then yes. Dawson, she told me to just level with you. Amanda taught me that sometimes it’s just better to say what we feel." He paused. "I told her I wasn’t going to go out of my way to tell you about her, but if you found out, I wasn’t going to deny it." Mitch patted him on the back. "In fact, she wanted to meet you, but I didn’t think it was such a great idea just yet."

"You were probably right," Dawson admitted sheepishly.

Mitch smiled. "Besides, you’ll be home at Christmas."

Dawson looked up. "You sound pretty sure about that."

"I think there’s still enough in Capeside to pull you back for one more holiday." Mitch said,.

Dawson raised an eyebrow. "Like...?"

Mitch smiled. "Let’s just leave it at that."

"If you want to be enigmatic," Dawson prodded his father.

"Hey," Mitch said. "Amanda didn’t say I had to tell you everything..."

B

"You need anything, you call me, okay?" Mitch said as he shifted the rover out of gear into neutral.

"I’m sure I’ll be fine, dad," Dawson assured him.

"Well," Mitch told him, "call me anyway."

Dawson nodded. "At home or the restaurant?"

Mitch reached in his shirt pocket. "Here," he said, pulling a business card out and scribbling a number on the back of it. "Call me at this number. It’s my cell phone. You can call me any time, day or night."

Dawson pocketed the card. "Sounds good."

Mitch looked out the windshield at the house. "Tell your mother I said hi."

"You’re not coming in?" Dawson wondered.

Mitch shook his head. "Not a great idea, no.."

"I thought you guys were getting along," Dawson said.

"We are," Mitch agreed. "But there’s no reason to disrupt that delicate little balance with an unannounced visit."

"Come on, dad, I’ll be there. She’ll be so happy to see me, I’m sure she’ll forgive you any-"

"I highly doubt it," Mitch told his son. "Not after the last time."

Dawson shook his head. "What happened the last time you...?"

Mitch ran a hand over his chin. "You remember that time you, uh, caught your mom and I in the kitchen?"

Dawson’s jaw dropped. "No way! You caught mom--"

Mitch nodded. "Oh yeah. That went over really well."

Dawson blinked. "I guess it would."

Mitch spoke, "So now I have to call first and make sure."

Dawson looked at the house. "Oh, so I get to be the one to..."

Mitch put a hand on his shoulder. "Let’s hope not."

"Right," Dawson agreed. "Well, I’ll call you tonight then."

"Sounds great," Mitch said. He reached over and hugged Dawson. "Good to see ya, kid."

"You too, Dad," Dawson told him. They held each other for a moment, and Dawson grabbed his backpack from the floor. "Pop the hatch and I’ll get my suitcase," he told Mitch.

Mitch nodded and thumbed the release; Dawson hopped out and fetched his luggage.

He poked his head in the open door. "Talk to you tonight," he said.

"Great," Mitch told him. "Any time, remember."

"Gotcha," Dawson said, shutting the door.

Mitch beeped as he turned around and drove off, leaving Dawson standing in a cold, misty November morning staring up at the house he’d lived in his entire life. Dawson took a deep breath and trudged up the stairs, setting his suitcase down on the porch and ringing the bell.

While he waited, Dawson looked around, taking in the surrounding area. He’d grown up in these grassy fields, romped through Wilson’s woods just around the bend, and he’d learned to swim in the wide river that passed by his house. This place had been his whole world once; now, as he looked at it, it seemed to be just a few houses huddled near the water, obscured somewhat by mist and fog. Jen’s house next door, now owned by people he didn’t know, sat dim and grey in the morning light. Dawson resisted the urge to turn around and look at Joey’s house. I’ve seen it enough, I know what it looks like, he thought as he rang the bell again. "Not exactly summertime out here, mom."

Dawson peered through the curtains into the living room; he couldn’t see anyone inside, and no lights were on. "Maybe I got here before she did?" Dawson wondered. He pulled out his keys and thumbed through them until he found his old house key; it still worked, and he let himself in and came back outside for his suitcase. He set the suitcase in the foyer and shedded his jacket, hanging it in the hall closet.

With no lights on, and apparently no heat either, the house felt odd for a moment, more like a stranger’s dwelling than his home. Dawson flipped on a light and moved to the thermostat, raising the heat from its glacial setting to something approximating human comfort level. He took a walk around the living room and passed into the large kitchen, noting that his mother hadn’t redecorated much since he’d left. He nodded in approval and grabbed his suitcase, heading upstairs to his old room.

If Gale hadn’t touched the downstairs much, she had evidently barely opened the door on Dawson’s room. Though he’d only been at school since August, it felt as if time hadn’t passed here at all. Dawson plopped his suitcase down on the bed and spun in a slow circle, taking in his room. The movie posters still hung in place, and the props and equipment he’d used on his high school projects littered the bookshelves. Gale had even left the clear plastic dustcover on Dawson’s computer. Dawson smiled as he realized she’d put the winter comforter on his bed-- the only change in the room at all. He sat down on the edge of the mattress and sighed, just soaking in the atmosphere of his old room. "Not all that much different from the new one," he commented. "Bigger. More stuff."

He lay down on the bed and put his arms behind his head. He closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled deeply. "Good to be back," he told the room as he rolled over on his right side and opened his eyes, looking out the window...

Joey used to climb through that window every night when we were kids, he mused, smiling, as he pictured her after her first growth spurt, all knees and elbows and gangly limbs and all those teeth in her smile, sneaking through his window after it was dark to sit and whisper with him for hours. Sometimes they fell asleep on the floor; sometimes he awoke and Joey would be gone, no trace of her ever having been there. Once or twice she even teased him that he had dreamed it, that she really hadn’t been there the night before, and Dawson spent the whole day fruitlessly trying to get her to admit it.

Dawson stood up, putting his hands in his pockets. And when we got older, we’d recite lines from movies, or from TV shows, or even a play. Thank God she got past her Shakespeare phase quickly. Dawson moved to the window, running his hand along the wooden frame, the hairs on the back of his hand standing up from proximity to the cold glass pane. For a long while he just stood there, thinking about the times Joey used to sleep on the floor because it had been too noisy at her place, or how she’d stayed here a week when her father was taken to jail because she’d been too embarrassed to go home. Dawson laughed quietly as he remembered them arguing over who would get the bed; each of them insisted that the other take it, and it had escalated to a playful wrestling match that ended with them entangled on the bed. It had been the first time Joey had smiled in days, and she had given him such a look. She was thirteen. So was I. What did I know? She was Joey, she wasn’t some.... some girl, like Amy Yip, or Kathy Kelly. She was Joey.

Dawson shook his head to dispel the memory. "She probably had a crush on me even then," he said to himself. He lifted his head and looked out the window; even with the drizzly fog he could make out Joey’s house, straddling the water on the far side of the lazy river. Never out of sight, we used to say. Dawson closed his eyes and let it all flood back to him, let the memories wash over him and take him where they would. He could see their first kiss, in the school library, before he had any inkling that Joey felt what she felt. And their next passionate exchange, right here where he stood. She’d been so uncertain, so tentative; he remembered that her hand had trembled when she’d touched him, but all he’d been able to think about was how soft her lips were, and how long had she felt this way?

He shook his head as more recollections took him.. Once he had finally seen her as a woman, how quickly and completely he had fallen in love, and how happy he had been with her that first autumn, the two of them constantly intertwined and smiling like fools. And naturally the rough times too, how she had yelled at him and how he had stormed out of her house and how she’d followed him right down to the river until she’d caught up with him... he shook his head. Now that was some fight, Dawson considered. I tried throwing her in the river to shut her up. And she still yelled at me while I rowed away... she was really pissed off. He smiled, his eyes tracing the contours of her house as he thought of how they had made up, at how widely she had smiled at two dozen roses, of the way she had laughed when he had admitted he’d come back a while later to make sure she’d gotten out of the water all right, only to find her long gone.

Dawson reached up and traced the outline of the roof of her house on the window pane, his finger following the angle of the tiled roof. "Is it such a crime to admit I miss you?" he asked softly. Dawson let his hand fall to his side. "I don’t know, maybe Pacey’s right. Maybe I am hung up on the wrong things. Maybe I should just let it go." He stared out the window doubtfully, frowning slightly at her house across the water.

"What do you think, Joey?" he asked the empty room.

I wish you were here to ask, he thought as he stood by the window, his gaze never wavering.

B

I hate winter, Pacey thought as he smiled and handed the blue-haired woman her change.. "Have a nice day," he said. Every idiot in world comes in to rent something. Especially around the holidays...

"Excuse me," a twentysomething man with glasses asked, "Do you have anything with Patrick Dempsey in it for sale?"

See? Pacey thought. Idiot. "Can you be a little more specific?" Pacey asked. "I can look up a title for you on the computer."

The man shook his head. "I don’t know any titles. But my girlfriend said she wanted a Patrick Dempsey movie."

Time to get a new girlfriend, he mused as he tapped the computer to life. "If you’ll hold on one second," Pacey told him, "I’ll have someone check on that for you.." Pacey raised his voice and said, "Tilly!"

A diminutive redhead spun around to face him. Pacey waved her over, and she stepped around behind the counter. "Can you help this gentleman find a Patrick Dempsey title, please?"

Tilly gave Pacey a nasty look but flashed the customer a smile. "Sure thing, Mr. Witter," she said. Pacey patted her on the shoulder and headed for his office--office? he laughed inside. Cluttered desk near the soda machine is more like it-- in the back room. He glanced up at the clock, grimacing as he read it, and muttered, "Three thirty two? Will it never be four o’ clock?"

"Excuse me," a female voice asked him. "I need some help. Are you a manager here?"

Pacey closed his eyes before turning around, taking a deep breath and putting on his customer service face. "Yes, I am a manager here, miss..."

His face broke out into a smile. "Andie!" he said, throwing his arms around her and bodily lifting her off the floor.

"Jeez, Pacey, I’m glad to see you too!" Andie laughed. He set her down.

"Tilly," he said. "I’m goin’ on break. If you disturb me for anything short of the store burning down, you’re fired." He took Andie’s hand and led her into the back room. The other three employees on duty were on the floor, so Pacey and Andie had the room to themselves.

Pacey turned around and looked at Andie. "Let me just say that you look fantastic, and it is damned good to see you." He kissed her tenderly.

Andie raised an eyebrow. "You sure know how to make a girl feel wanted." She broke into a wide smile and kissed him back. "I always did like that about you."

Pacey took her hands. "How long have you been in town? When’d you get in? Did you have a good trip? How were the roads?"

Andie laughed. "Down, boy!" She kissed him again. "Well, if I had known I’d get this enthusiastic a response, I would’ve stayed away a little longer." She looked up at him warmly.

"What can I say, I’m glad to see you. And you wouldn’t’ve had to wait so long if you didn’t have that silly rule."

"Silly?" Andie asked. "You think not letting you drive up to see me at Brandeis is silly?"

"It’s less than two hours away," Pacey argued. "It really wouldn’t be any trouble..."

"One," Andie said, "you run this place now. You can’t be gone a whole weekend."

"Listen to you," he smiled. "Still my conscience."

Andie ignored his comment. "And two, I wouldn’t get any work done, and believe me, Pacey, I have to work all weekend to keep up. This is definitely not high school. "

Pacey gave her a look. "I bet you party every night with half-naked guys from the football team, and all this ‘I have to work so hard’ stuff is all a smoke screen to keep me from finding out."

Andie tapped him playfully on the arm. "You know I don’t like jocks."

"Okay, half-naked chess club guys..."

"Pacey!" she said, pulling him close. "Stop it!"

They kissed again.

"The only break I take for myself is an hour on Sunday afternoon, half for--"

"I know," he interrupted. "Half an hour for me, half an hour for Jack. I know." he shook his head. "It’s not enough."

"I know it’s not enough," she said. "Why do you think I’m here?"

Pacey smiled wide. "And I thought you just wanted to rent a movie."

She laughed. "Who am I, Dawson?"

Pacey stared at her. "I sure as hell hope not. I really don’t want to be kissing Dawson. Especially now that he has a goatee."

"Dawson has a goatee?" Andie asked.

Pacey chuckled. "It’s more like a patch of errant peach fuzz, but he’s trying. Don’t laugh when you see him."

Andie drew an x with one finger over her heart. "Promise," she said, kissing him again.

"Speaking of Jack," Pacey said, "how is the ol’ bro?"

"He’s fine," Andie replied. "He says hi."

"I say hi back," Pacey said. "Why doesn’t he just say hi when he gets in?"

Andie shook her head. "He’s not coming home for Thanksgiving."

"He’s not?" Pacey asked.

Andie said, "No, he’s staying with a friend in Vermont." She looked away. "Ever since we...well, you know, with my mom... he doesn’t like coming back to Capeside."

"That should make Dawson happy," Pacey muttered.

Andie nodded. "Should make you happy too. No one in the McPhee house but me. The renters are out of town too."

Pacey raised his eyebrows. "You mean..."

Andie kissed him, long and full, running a hand through his short dark hair. "That’s right, Pacey, just you, me, and that big old house for five days."

"Something tells me I am going to have a lot to be thankful for this Thanksgiving," Pacey told her.

Andie smiled. "You’re not the only one.."

He checked his watch. "Whattaya know? Twenty minutes until the end of my shift." He kissed her on the forehead. "You know, today I think I’m gonna leave early." He grabbed his coat from its peg on the wall and took Andie’s hand. "What the hell," he said. "I am the damn manager, after all."

"Not just any manager," she teased him..

"That’s right," he said. "I’m the damn manager. The damn lucky manager."

Andie chuckled. "Let’s go."

Pacey nodded. "We are so outta here."

B

"Don’t touch anything!" Andie called out as she grabbed some lunch meat and a half a loaf of bread.

Pacey paused over the CD player, frowned in thought, and dropped the CD into the tray. He pushed it closed and pressed start, grinning as the music started playing.

Andie shuffled into the living room in her socked feet holding a jar of mustard and a butter knife. "What did I just say?" she asked, smiling.

"Were you talking?" Pacey responded. "I thought it was the wind blowing."

Andie shook her head. "Fine. Just don’t get too comfortable. It is their stuff, after all."

Pacey chuckled. "I hope so. I’d hate to think the McPhee standards had sunk this low."

Andie tilted her head as Pacey scooped her hair out of the way and kissed her on the back of the neck. "At this point, Pacey, I’m just happy there even is a McPhee standard to...mmmmm...."

"Mmmm?" Pacey asked.

"Don’t stop," Andie told him. "That feels nice."

"Does, doesn’t it?" he mumbled into her skin, kissing her up and down the base of her neck. He moved around to her ear and nibbled on the lobe for a moment, and then he whispered, "Now why do you want to deprive yourself of this on a regular basis?"

Andie put down the slices of bread and turned to face him. "You think I like going without you? You think I don’t think about coming down here after I’ve had a hard day, or a bad week? You think I don’t miss you?"

Pacey furrowed his brow. "So if that’s the case..."

She put her hands on his face.

"Ah," he said, removing them.

Andie frowned up at him.

"Cold hands," he said, closing his hands around hers.

Andie smiled. "Pacey, you know what a distraction you are, right?"

"Is that what I am?" he asked, massaging her freezing hands. "A distraction?"

"You know what I mean," she told him. "It’s hard for me to keep my mind on anything else when you’re around." She kissed him lightly. "You know that."

"I know," he said. "Believe me, I know that."

"So you know I would just flunk out of college if you started visiting," she spoke.

"The upside is that I’d get to see you more often," he offered.

Andie shook her head and smiled. "You will," she said. "There’s Christmas, and spring break, and then I’ll be here the whole summer-- almost four months. You’ll see so much of me you’ll get sick of me."

"That’s likely," he deadpanned. "You’re the only bright spot in this whole place, McPhee, you know that? I mean, Dawson left, Joey left... all my buddies, gone. It just gets hard sometimes, you know? I get tired of being alone."

Andie freed one of her hands and traced a line down his cheek. "So when I tell you to hold on for three and a half years, that must seem like a lifetime."

Pacey nodded. "Not that you’re not worth it-- because, Jesus, you are, Andie, and you know that-- but it just gets a little tough sometimes. You know, it’s like I’m living in the town that fun forgot."

Andie smiled her wide smile. "Not for the next week you’re not."

He smiled back. "I’m really happy you’re here," he told her, kissing her, pulling her to him.

Andie slid her arms around his neck and hugged him tight. "Well, it’s only fair," she murmured.

"How’s that?" Pacey queried.

"You saved me so many times," she said.. "It’s only right I get to return the favor. Finally."

"I wish you’d stop saying that," he mumbled.

"Pacey, it’s true. The only reason I made it through high school was because I had you. And when my mom lost it completely and had her breakdown-- who was there? Who slept on the couch every night? Who walked with me to school? Who made sure I went to bed on time?" Andie clutched him close. "I am so lucky to have you."

He kissed her on the neck. "I feel the same way," he told her. "The same way." He kissed the top of her head. "And I don’t have to share you with anybody for five whole days..."

"Um..." Andie began.

Pacey stared down at her. "What?"

"Well, I did sorta promise Joey she could come over one day and check her e-mail. She doesn’t have a computer at home."

Pacey nodded. "I think we can give her ten minutes before I throw her out of the house."

Andie shook her head. "You are so bad," she told him.

"You don’t know the half of it," he chuckled. "Wait till I tell Dawson."

"Pacey! No!" she scolded him. "Don’t get involved with all of that."

Pacey shook his head. "No, Andie, you don’t understand. I watched those two circle around each other for years. It was almost a relief when they got together. In fact, I even considered holding a parade." He grinned. "There’s a lot of history here. And now it’s my turn to add to it."

"Pacey, don’t," Andie told him.

"You didn’t see Dawson last night," Pacey said. "He still has it for her bad."

Andie looked up at him, surprised. "He does?"

Pacey nodded. "Oh, yeah. Big time. He asked me not to even say her name." Pacey sighed. "He’s practically wearing his heart on his sleeve."

"Then why did he break it off, if he..."

"I dunno. That’s Dawson." Pacey rubbed his hands. "This is gonna be so great..."

"Pacey," Andie warned him, "go easy. You don’t know how hard Joey took that. She’s just started to really move on." Andie bit her lip. "I don’t know about this, Pacey."

Pacey pulled Andie close again. "Trust me. This’ll all work out."

Andie looked up at him doubtfully. "You see?"

"See what?" Pacey replied.

She shook her head. "I must be nuts to be in love with you. Even if you are really good to me."

"What?" he repeated.

"You just don’t know when to leave it alone, do you?" Andie asked him.

"If I did, McPhee, I woulda never stayed with you. And that would be a crime."

Andie shook her head. "You always have an answer, don’t you?"

Pacey nodded. "A good answer, too." He kissed her.

B

Dawson looked up from his book as he heard a car door shut. The world outside had turned blue with the fading of the day, and the light snow that had fallen all afternoon coated everything, giving the whole landscape and eerie appearance, a cerulean winter wonderland.. Little early for snow that sticks to anything but the grass, Dawson mused as he looked out the window. And just a little late for that to be mom.

Keys jingled and the door opened; Gale entered, carrying a small suitcase and a brown paper bag. Snow dusted the collar of her coat; she set down her suitcase and pulled off a glove with her teeth.

"Dawson, honey?" she called out.

He appeared in the living room archway. "Hiya, mom. Need some help?"

"Hi!" she said, smiling, sliding her free arm around him. "Have you been here long?"

"Since this morning," he informed her.

"Oh, honey, I’m so sorry!" she said, putting the paper bag down in the rocker and sliding out of her heavy winter coat. "Here," she spoke, tossing the coat on the couch, "let me.."

She threw her arms around her tall son and pulled him to her, embracing him fiercely for a moment. Gale let out a sigh.

"That’s better," she said. "So how are ya?"

"Mom, I’m fine. I was a little worried about you," he ventured.

Gale waved him off. "Oh, sweetie, the roads were murder. We started on time, but the turnpike was a parking lot. It was just such a mess, and there was this accident. This truck..."

She stopped as a well-built man stomped his boots on the porch to shake off the snow and entered the house, shutting the outer storm door behind him. "Gale, where do you want the--"

He stopped, looking at Dawson.

"You must be Dawson," he said, grinning.

"I must be," Dawson said, nonplussed.

"Honey, this is Nick. Nick, this is my son."

Nick shifted the paper bag he carried to his hip and shook off his glove. "Pleasure to meet you, Dawson. Your mom’s told me a lot about you."

Dawson offered him a limp hand. "That’s funny," he remarked. "She hasn’t said a peep about you."

"Nick, would you be a dear and put the groceries away?"

Nick’s blue eyes shifted from Dawson to his mother. "Of course," he said to Gale. "Nice to meet you," he told Dawson.

"Likewise," Dawson said, his tine undercutting his words.

Nick scooped up the other bag and headed into the kitchen.

"Sweetie, sit down," Gale said as she did so herself, patting the seat next to her on the couch.

Dawson sat down stiffly.

"Dawson, I’m sorry you two had to meet so... suddenly like that. I had this whole introduction planned to make it less awkward."

"Mom, I don’t think there’s any way you could have made that meeting anything less than painfully awkward." Dawson raised an eyebrow. "How old is he? Twenty-five?"

Gale frowned. "Dawson! He’s thirty-six.. He’s only five years younger than I am."

Dawson nodded. "He seems kinda young."

Gale looked at her son. "Right now, so do you."

Dawson glared at his mother.

"Dawson, I’m trying, okay? Your father and I discussed this last week and he said he thought you’d handle it better if you didn’t meet-- or even know about-- our new partners.." Gale rubbed her forehead. "I told him I thought you were adult enough to deal with the fact that life went on for your parents, and that we should start treating you like it." She met her son’s eyes. "Was I wrong?"

"No," Dawson pouted.

"Well, then," she said. "Come on in the kitchen and meet Nick." She took one of Dawson’s large hands in her two small ones. "He’s really a nice guy, honey. I think you two will really get along."

"Mom," Dawson said, resisting Gale’s gentle tug as she got up. "I don’t know if this is such a good idea."

"Dawson?" Gale asked.

"I don’t know," he admitted. "It’s just that there’s so many changes... you, dad, this Nick guy..." Dawson looked at his mother. "It’s like I haven’t even really come home, you know? I mean, sure this is the same house and everything, but it’s like it’s some other world or something where everything is different. It looks the same, but everyone is just..." He paused, looking away. "Different."

"Honey," Gale said, patting the back of his hand. "Things change. That’s the way life is." She sat back down. "We’re the same people on the inside. It’s just that... people keep moving, Dawson. People keep growing."

"I know," he said stubbornly.

Gale fixed him with a look. "It doesn’t mean that the important things aren’t still there underneath, dear.. I still love you. Your father still loves you." She squeezed his hand. "It’s just that I love Nick too. Doesn’t mean I love you any less than I ever did."

"I know," Dawson acknowledged. "It’s just...." He let go of his mother’s hand and stood up. "I go away and I come back and everything is changed, and I just sort of wonder if I had any impact at all, you know? Did anything I do here matter?"

Gale stood. "Dawson, of course it did. Everything you did here made you who you are. It’s part of you, and it’s part of us. Nothing can change that." She moved close to him and hugged him. "Nothing."

"Thanks, mom," he said, sliding a long arm around her shoulders.

"Honey, I tell you what. I’m gonna go in the kitchen and help Nick fix dinner. How about you come in when you’re ready?"

Dawson held his mom close. "That sounds pretty good, mom."

"Okay," she said softly. "See you soon." She kissed him on the cheek and walked into the kitchen.

Dawson looked around the living room for a moment. He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled, plopping down on the couch.. Wow, he thought as he closed his eyes. It’s such a cliché, but you really can’t go home again.

A gust of wind rattled the door, and Dawson got up as he saw that Nick had closed only the outer door, not the inner one. He walked to the doorway and started to shut the door when he looked outside at the now dark evening.

Far across the creek, in front of Joey’s house, a range rover had pulled up; the light over the garage illuminated two tiny figures fussing at the back hatch of the rover. Judging by the wide shoulders of the one on the left, Dawson presumed it was Bodie, Joey’s brother-in-law. The other figure, though tiny with distance, sported a slim frame and a mane of dark hair that stood out against the snow.

Dawson felt a spark run through him, a jolt of energy that lanced through his heart and made his palms sweat.

Joey, he realized as he watched her pull a suitcase out of the rover. Joey! he thought, intensely, as if mere concentration on her would make her realize he watched her across the cold wide ribbon of water.

In a moment the two of them had gone inside, but Dawson stared at the house across the way long after the light had been turned off. He eventually shook himself out of his reverie and closed the door, turning on his heel and moving into the kitchen.

"Hi," he said simply to his mother and Nick.

B

Gale rapped on the door lightly. "Honey?"

"Yeah, mom?"

She entered Dawson’s bedroom. She frowned slightly as she saw him sitting on the bed staring at the window, and then she nodded to herself as recognition dawned on her.

"How you doin’?" she asked, sitting next to her son on the bed. "My God, Dawson, you are getting so big."

"You’ve been saying that since I was fifteen," he told her.

"It’s been true since you were fifteen," she replied.

He nodded; they sat in silence a moment.

"Thanks for being nice at dinner, Dawson. If it helps, Nick was just as nervous as you were."

Dawson glanced at his mother. "He didn’t seem to be."

"He was," Gale assured her son. "He’s a little more practiced at covering it up than you are, but still, he was nervous."

Dawson shrugged. "I dunno, mom, he looked comfortable to me."

Gale slid an arm around Dawson’s back and leaned her head on his shoulder. "That’s because you were preoccupied," she told him. "You were only half here."

"Mom," Dawson said. "I’ve been right here, the whole time." He turned to face her. "First Nick talked about the weather, and then you told a story about the weather guy at the station forgetting his snow boots on the top of his car, and then..."

"Stop," Gale said to him gently. "You always did have an ear for dialogue." Gale closed her eyes. "I remember when you were younger, and I’d come by your door to check up on you at night, and I’d hear you reciting lines with Joey." Gale rubbed his back. "You didn’t think I could hear you, but I could, the two of you, playing scenes from Jaws, and Star Wars, and whatever other movies you loved." She smiled. "So don’t try that trick on me. I know you can hear without really listening."

Dawson grinned slightly. "Yeah," he admitted.

"Hey pal, don’t think you can pull one over on your mom just because you’re in college," Gale told him.

Dawson nodded.

"So," Gale said lightly, "what’s on your mind, kiddo?"

Dawson raised an eyebrow. "You mean you have to ask?"

Gale furrowed her brow. "Well, you were nice to Nick, so it wasn’t him. You didn’t mention your father, so it couldn’t be that..." Gale reached up and took off one of her earrings. "You said school was going fine, so it isn’t that...."

"Mom," Dawson said, dragging out the single syllable.

"Why don’t you tell me?" she asked, removing the other earring. "That’d be better than playing twenty questions, don’t you think?"

Dawson took his mother’s hand. "It’s Joey," he murmured.

Gale nodded knowingly. "Absence making the heart grow fonder?" she asked.

Dawson shook his head, "I don’t know, mom. I mean, school was a fresh start, you know? A whole new world, new people, new routine-- everything was completely new. Completely. Any old mistakes I made were just that-- stuff from the past. They didn’t matter any more."

He turned to look at his mother. "And I got really wrapped up in classes. I love it up there-- I told you that over the phone. And I took your advice and I got involved with all sorts of activities. I joined a director’s club, I sat in on some drama history-- I mean, I kept myself really busy."

Gale rubbed the back of Dawson’s hand. "And?"

Dawson shrugged. "I don’t know. It’s like, the more I kept active and tried to stay preoccupied with something..." he sighed, looking away from Gale. "It was like all I could think about was Joey."

"Have you talked to her?" Gale wondered.

"No," Dawson answered quickly. "I can’t even imagine how she feels about me. She probably hates me." He hung his head. "That had to be the meanest break-up in history."

Gale nodded. "You could have been a little more of a gentleman about it, Dawson."

Dawson looked up. "Not you too, mom."

Gale sighed. "Honey, I’m the last one who’s objective in this situation. I know what it’s like to be on the receiving end of that kind of anger, that kind of mistrust." She held up her hand. "No ring, remember?"

Dawson shut his eyes. "I’m sorry, mom, I--"

"The difference is," Gale said softly, interrupting him, "that I was thirty-nine years old when I had my little dalliance, and Joey was sixteen." Gale met his eyes. "And I was married, and you two weren’t even dating at the time." Gale sighed. "At least I knew what I was doing. Joey was probably just nervous and scared."

"But..." Dawson started, exhaling. "Mom, I know the circumstances are a little different, but..."

"But?" Gale asked.

"Mom, it was Jack." Dawson clenched his teeth. "Jesus, I hate that son of a bitch."

"Dawson!" Gale exclaimed.

"Mom," he said, releasing her hand and standing up, "she should have told me! She shouldn’t have hid it from me like that!"

Gale shook her head. "Dawson, you are so much like your father."

Dawson frowned. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

Gale looked up at her son. "Do you really think you would have taken that little tidbit well if Joey had told you earlier?"

"I think she could have been a little more up front with it," Dawson argued.

"Maybe. But have you looked at this from her point of view?" Gale asked.

"What?"

Gale nodded. "I didn’t think so."

"You can’t tell me you side with her, mom," Dawson stated.

"I understand her," Gale admitted. "That’s not exactly the same as condoning it, but..."

"See!" Dawson said. "Even you think she’s wrong."

Gale shook her head. "Oh, no, Dawson, I don’t think anybody’s wrong. Or right. I just understand why Joey tried to hide her fling with Jack from you."

"Mom, I don’t believe this!" Dawson crossed his arms. "You’re taking her side!"

"No," Gale said, standing up, "I’m not. I’m not taking anybody’s side." She put her hands on her son’s shoulders. "But maybe you ought to think about this a little more."

He frowned. "Already have."

"Let’s just suppose for a moment, just for argument’s sake, that you’re a hundred per cent right, okay?"

"Okay," he allowed.

"Is it really doing you all that much good?"

"What do you mean, mom?" he asked her.

Gale sighed. "There are more important things in life than being right, Dawson."

He raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"

Gale spoke softly. "Even if you’re right. So? Seems to me you’re still sitting here staring at the window wishing Joey would climb through it."

Dawson blinked.

"Sometimes being right at all costs is a very lonely place, honey. You’ll find forgiveness counts for a lot more most of the time." Gale stood on her tiptoes and kissed Dawson on the forehead. "I’ll be downstairs if you want to talk some more.."

Dawson stood stock still as his mother left the room. For a long while he mulled over her words, letting them roll around in his head, before he sat back down on the bed and stared at the window..

B

"Joey," Andie said, smiling, "come on in!"

Joey grinned and slipped inside the front door. "I can’t believe it’s this cold this early in the season," she said. She gave Andie a hug. "Hey, it’s good to see you."

"You too," Andie said, returning the embrace. "From your e-mails it sounds like you’re doing great at school."

Joey shrugged. "I’m learning a lot. I don’t know if that’s doing great or not, but..."

"Oh my god," Pacey said, coming into the foyer from the living room, "they’ll let anybody in this place." He turned to Andie. "Didn’t I tell you we needed a doorman to keep the riff-raff out?"

"Look who’s talking." Joey raised an eyebrow. "To this day, Andie, I swear, I do not know what you see in him."

Pacey laughed and gave Joey a hug. "Good to see you too, Potter."

Joey held him for a moment and said, "Pacey, I never thought I’d say this, but I am actually happy to see you."

They parted and Pacey said, "You must be getting soft in your old age."

Joey chuckled. "Must be."

"Can I get you something? We were just making cocoa. Do you want a mug?" Andie asked.

"That’d be great, thanks," Joey told her, tugging off her coat. Pacey offered to take it for her and Joey gave him a quizzical look.

"So I can hang it up," he explained.

"Andie," Joey called out, staring at Pacey.

Andie came back in from the kitchen.

"Who is this, and what have you done with the real Pacey Witter?"

Andie laughed as Pacey managed a pained expression. "Hey, now, Potter, just because I’m stuck here in Capeside doesn’t mean I haven’t learned a few things." He gestured again. "Your jacket?"

Joey shook her head as she handed him her leather coat. "Andie has definitely been a good influence on you," Joey told him.

"And the other way around, too," Pacey responded, hanging up Joey’s coat.

Joey snickered as she sat down on the couch.

"You doubt me?" Pacey asked, taking a seat in an overstuffed lazyboy.

Joey slipped her long dark hair behind one ear. "Let’s just say the new improved Pacey takes a bit of getting used to."

Pacey grinned. "Andie seems to like it."

Joey looked at him. "Andie always was a softie."

"What’s that? What about me?" Andie asked as she returned with three mugs of hot cocoa.

Pacey took his and told Andie, "You have to forgive Joey. She knows me from my dark days as the misfit rebel of Capeside."

Andie kissed him on the forehead. "So do I." She handed Joey her mug and sat down next to her on the couch.

"So when did you get in?" Joey asked, blowing on the cocoa.

"Yesterday afternoon," Andie told her. "I’m only an hour and a half away, and they scheduled all the classes so that everyone could leave on Tuesday morning."

Joey nodded. "Must be nice. I had a project due yesterday afternoon, so I didn’t get in until about seven last night." She took a sip from her cocoa. "I’d been away just long enough to forget that a fold-out bed is not really the best way to get a night’s sleep."

"You have a big dorm room?" Pacey asked.

"No," Joey admitted, "but I did get a single room-- well, a room to myself, really. My roommate was there two days, and she split. They told me they might have someone for me next semester, but I hope not." Joey smiled. "I’ve never had my own room before, and I kinda don’t want to give it up."

"Can’t blame you," Andie said.

Joey looked over at Pacey. "I thought Andie gave you her old computer," she spoke.

Pacey raised an eyebrow. "Smooth segue," he told her.

"I just wanted to know why you never write me," Joey said. "Not that I expected a flood of correspondence, but a note now and then would have been nice."

Andie laughed. "I have to drag letters out of him too."

Pacey held up his hands. "Do these look like the fingers of a typist to you?" He shook his head. "Ladies, ladies, I’m a talker, not a writer. You want to know what I’m thinking? Call me."

"From Rhode Island?" Joey asked. "You know how expensive that is?"

"You make it sound like it’s the other side of the world, Joey," Pacey teased her.

"It’s far enough," Joey said quietly.

Pacey blinked. "Would you excuse me for a minute?" he asked. "I have to call the store and check in." He smiled. "Don’t want the kiddies running around too long without some adult supervision."

Joey shook her head in disbelief.

Andie turned to face him, presenting the back of her head to Joey. ‘No,’ she mouthed to Pacey. ‘No Dawson!’

"I’ll be right back," he said, putting a hand on her shoulder as he maneuvered out of the chair and walked off toward the bedroom.

"So," Joey asked, "how’s life at Brandeis?"

"Peachy," Andie told her, forcing a smile.

"Pacey!" Dawson replied. "I wasn’t sure I was gonna hear from you."

"Come on, man," Pacey said. "You don’t think I’d strand you in town by yourself while you were on vacation, do you?"

Dawson chuckled. "Usually? No. But I also know Andie’s in town, and I know you haven’t been seen at Casa Witter recently."

"You gave my dad a ring, huh?"

Dawson nodded. "Yeah. There’s not that much to do here, you know."

"Speaking of which," Pacey told him, "Andie and I were gonna rent-- well, okay, not rent, borrow-- some videos from the store. I was thinkin’ if you had nothin’ better to do, you might wanna come over and hang with us."

"Videos, Pacey?" Dawson asked. "You don’t get enough of that on the job?"

Pacey chuckled. "You know that Andie hasn’t seen a single movie since she’s been at school?"

"There’s something vaguely unhealthy about that," Dawson responded.

"Tell me about it," Pacey agreed. "Too much reality in that girl’s life."

Dawson laughed.

"Tell you what," Pacey suggested. "How about you stop by and the three of us will go pick out a double feature for this afternoon?"

"Sounds like a plan," Dawson said. "Gale should let me use the car."

"Great," Pacey said. "The videos are on me."

"I should hope so, Mr. Video Store manager." Dawson chuckled. "Pacey Witter, last of the big spenders."

Pacey laughed. "I do what I can. Not everybody has a scholarship to college, man. Some of us have to make it in the real world."

"Wait a minute," Dawson replied. "Is that the sound of violins I hear?"

Pacey chuckled. "All right, all right. Just get moving, Dawson."

"Be right over," Dawson said.

Pacey hung up the phone and rubbed his hands together. "Man, I wish I could stay here and watch," he said softly. He glanced out the bedroom window and smiled. They’re gonna kill me. If they don’t kill each other first....

B

Joey stepped out of the den and called out, "You want me to shut down the computer, Andie?"

"She went out," Pacey replied from the living room.

Joey walked into the living room, stuffing her hands in her pockets. "Oh," she said. "I didn’t even hear her leave. Where’d she go?"

Pacey looked up from the TV, muting it. "I think she went to pick up some groceries. She seemed like she was in some kind of hurry."

Joey sat down. "I’m just surprised you let her out of your sight for more than thirty seconds."

Pacey turned to regard Joey. "You still can’t believe me and McPhee really work, can you?"

Joey tilted her head. "Let’s face it, Pacey. I’ve known you for years, and I have never seen you act like you do with Andie, ever, any other time. It’s like you’re a whole different person with her."

Pacey smiled. "Love can do that to you, Potter."

Joey blinked. "Did you just say what I think you just said?"

Pacey nodded.

Joey sank back in her chair. "My God, will miracles never cease? Pacey Witter admitting he’s in love. Somebody call the Devil and tell him hell has really frozen over."

Pacey laughed. "That would account for the crappy weather," he said.

Joey started to reply, but the ring of a doorbell interrupted her.

"Hold that thought," Pacey said as he got up off the couch. "I’ll be right back." He crossed the living room and ambled into the foyer.

"Dawson," he said as he opened the door. "That was pretty quick."

"You said to come on over," he answered, stepping inside. "I can’t believe how cold it is out there. And I thought Syracuse was bad."

"Come on in," Pacey said, gesturing toward the living room.

"Where’s Andie?" Dawson queried.

"She had to step out for a minute," Pacey told him. "She’ll be right back."

"Well, I’m sure she--" Dawson stopped, his whole body freezing in place, as he entered the living room and saw Joey sitting on the couch.

"Joey," he muttered.

Joey glared back at him, her brows coming down low over her eyes. "Pacey..." she hissed.

The two merely stared at one another for a long moment.

Pacey mumbled, "And I thought it was cold outside."

"What’s goin’ on, Pacey?" Dawson asked, not taking his eyes off Joey.

Pacey held up his hands. "I just figured I would do something that neither one of you two would. Namely, get you together."

Joey turned her narrowed eyes on him. "I was wrong about you. You haven’t changed one damn bit."

Pacey held up his hands. "For what it’s worth, nobody had anything to do with this but me. Not Andie, and not Dawson. He had no idea you were here."

Dawson managed a glance at Pacey. "This was all your idea?"

Pacey nodded. "And if you don’t mind, I think I’m gonna go join Andie at the grocery store now. Or wherever the hell she is."

"Pacey," Joey growled, "don’t you dare leave the two of us alone in this house."

Pacey gave Joey a salute. "Just remember, it’s not Andie’s stuff here. All of it belongs to the renters. So don’t break anything." He grabbed his coat.

"Pacey--" Dawson started. "Pacey, where are you going?"

Pacey slipped on his coat. "The real question is, where are you going, Dawson?" He patted his friend on the shoulder. "Be back in a bit."

Dawson frowned, glancing back at Joey, who had folded her arms and sat staring out the window. Pacey shuffled out the front door and closed it behind him.

"Joey," Dawson said softly. He could feel his pulse begin to quicken as he took her in, the winter sunlight shining off her hair. Did you have to look so damned beautiful today? he thought.

"Joey," he said, louder. She turned to look at him, her dark eyes shooting daggers at him. "Joey, I had no idea you were here. Pacey said we were gonna rent some videos. I had nothing to do with this whole set up."

Joey nodded, her head barely moving as she turned back to the window.

Dawson felt his stomach work itself into a tight knot, flip-flopping back and forth as he gazed at Joey, He opened and closed his hands and took a deep breath.

"You just gonna stand there staring at me all afternoon?" Joey asked, still facing away from him.

Stiffly, Dawson walked over and sat down on the far end of the couch. He looked away from Joey, his eyes wandering over the room but not really seeing anything. He turned back to face Joey and was startled to see that she was regarding him. He looked away quickly, closing his eyes to try and get his nerves under control. He inhaled deeply, let the breath out, and turned to face Joey.

"You must have the brassest balls in the world to be here," she said.

"Joey," he started, but words failed him as he made eye contact with her. He could see the anger in her eyes; the stiffness of her posture broadcast her discomfort at being with him.

"It’s good to see you," he managed after a moment. "I mean that."

She looked away.

Dawson fidgeted, lacing his fingers together and he screwed his eyes shut. This is just horrible, he thought. Pacey, this was a huge mistake. Jesus, I am gonna kill you. He opened his eyes and looked at Joey again; his heart skipped a beat, and he felt that familiar surge that had coursed through him last night when he’d seen her, and so many times before that.

"Can we...talk?" he asked her.

Joey scowled at him. "Unless the very next words out of your mouth are, ‘I’m really sorry, Joey, I acted like a total jackass,’ no, Dawson, we can’t talk."

Dawson closed his eyes and hung his head. "I’m really sorry, Joey," he said, looking up at her. "I acted like a total jackass. And I want to apologize for it."

Joey looked away, still frowning. That should have felt better, she mused as she looked out the window.

"Don’t you think it’s a little late for apologies?" she asked him. She turned to look at him. "Don’t you think you should have said you were sorry in August, when you were busy tearing me apart?"

Dawson swallowed. "Joey, I admit I didn’t handle it well. I’m sorry for that. I..." he put his hands on his knees. "I didn’t know how to deal with what you told me."

"So you had to... what? Get back at me? Make me hurt too?"

He shook his head. "If I could take it back...."

"Dawson," she said, meeting his eyes, "if I could take back what I did, I would too. But that’s the whole point of life. There’s no rewind button, Dawson. Life isn’t a movie, or a script. You can’t go back and rewrite the ending when it doesn’t work out the way you want."

Dawson nodded. "I know that, Joey. Believe me, I know that."

Joey continued, "Life’s gonna throw you some pretty mean curveballs sometimes. There’s no getting around that. It’s all in how you deal with them." She looked over into his eyes. "That’s what counts."

Dawson raised his eyebrows. "Joe, life’s been throwing me nothing but curveballs lately." He shook his head.

"Yeah, well, welcome to the world, Dawson," Joey said, her tone a little softer.

"I can deal with most of them," he admitted. "There’s just one I’m having trouble with."

Joey tilted her head.

"You," he told her.

She raised an eyebrow. "Me? I thought you pretty much took care of me when you stormed out of my house saying you never wanted to see me again."

Dawson gave her a sheepish look. "Nothing could be further from the truth, Joey. Then or now. That was..." He frowned. "That was the pain talking. That was just..." he trailed off, looking away from her. "Stupid."

"Stupid?" Joey echoed. "That’s one word that comes to mind."

"You know how Pacey always used to tease us about being careful what we wished for, in case we got it?"

Joey nodded.

"Yeah, well, I got that wish. I didn’t see you or hear from you for three months."

"I know," Joey said, looking out the window again.

"And I hated it," Dawson confessed. Joey turned to face him.

"I can’t believe how much I missed you, Joey." He looked over at her. "I mean, you’d think with going away to college and starting all this new stuff, I’d at least be able to concentrate on something other than you for more than ten minutes."

Joey remained silent as she watched Dawson.

He took a deep breath and said, "But you know what? None of that means anything without someone to share it with." He met Joey’s eyes. "It doesn’t matter what I do at film school, or how many awards I win, or whatever grants I get..." Dawson sighed. "If I don’t have you to tell about it, it’s not... it doesn’t matter. It’s like if I can’t share it with you, Joey, it didn’t happen."

Joey closed her eyes. "You should have thought of that," she whispered, "before you..."

Dawson reached over and took her hand. "Joe, how could I possibly know what my life would be like without you in it? That had never happened before, not since the moment we met when we were eight years old." He squeezed her hand. "You can be mad at me for how I acted, about how I couldn’t deal with what you told me, but don’t hold this against me." He blinked. "It was like missing an arm, or an eye... or..."

"Or a heart," Joey said, her voice barely audible.

Dawson said nothing; he wrapped his other hand around hers.

"You think I didn’t hurt?" Joey asked him. "You think I didn’t miss you too?" She shook her head. "You think I didn’t think about calling you?"

"Joey, you should have--"

"Dawson, I couldn’t! You dumped me, remember?"

"I was there," Dawson mumbled.

"I couldn’t be desperate, pathetic Joey," she said. "I figured this was a sign that I wasn’t going to have you in my life." Joey tightened her grip on Dawson’s hand. "I figured that I could either have you, or I could have my life-- school, my artwork, all of that." She glanced at him. "Considering the last time I’d seen you, your back was turned toward me and you were running to the dock, it seemed pretty clear what the better choice was." Joey shook her head. "I sure as hell never expected to see you again."

"I’m sorry," Dawson said. "I can’t even begin to tell you--"

"Don’t," Joey said. "Dawson, don’t. You already apologized. Saying it again won’t wipe it all away."

Dawson nodded. "So what can we do about all this?" he asked.

Joey brushed her hair behind her ear with her free hand. "What do you want from me, Dawson? What do think is going to happen here?"

He lifted her hand to his lips. "I want you, Joey. I want to admit I made a big mistake-- a huge mistake-- with you. I want you to accept that I don’t want to live without you. And I want you to know that I’m still in love with you."

Joey closed her eyes as she felt tears welling up. "Dawson," she murmured. "Oh, Jesus, this can’t be happening."

Dawson slid closer to her on the couch. "What do you want, Joey?" he asked her. "What do you want? Because I’ll do whatever you want, even if it means--" He stopped, a lump forming in his throat.

Joey inhaled deeply, letting go of his hand. She ran both hands through her hair and repeated, "What do I want?" She snuffled. "What I don’t want, Dawson, is to ever feel that kind of pain again. I watched my mother waste away and die and even that didn’t hurt as much as what you did to me." She looked at him, her eyes wet, and said, "I just don’t know if I can let myself...if I can risk that sort of..." She hugged herself. "I don’t know if I could get over you again."

Dawson moved closer to Joey, brushing up against her; he gathered her up in his arms and kissed her hair. "You are crazy if you think I’d ever let you go again," he told her. "I’d let go of everything else in my life first, Joey. Trust me, I’ve learned that lesson. Some mistakes you only make once in a lifetime." He kissed the top of her head again. "Besides, I couldn’t get over losing you again either." Dawson closed his eyes. "I didn’t even get over you this time..."

He felt Joey bury her head in his shoulder, and he could feel her body shake gently as she started to cry. Dawson clung to her, holding her tightly, and she slid her arms around him. He held her for a while, stroking her hair and rubbing her back, until she looked up at him. Joey wiped away the tears on her cheeks and snuffled.

"You wanna know what I want, Dawson?" she asked.

He nodded.

She kissed him, her lips meeting his; Joey slid her hands up his back and ran her hands through his hair, pulling him close as they kissed. At length they parted, and Joey whispered. "I want what I’ve always wanted, Dawson. I want you."

Dawson smiled, feeling tears of his own well up.

Joey rubbed her lips. "And I also want you to shave off that damned peach fuzz."

Dawson pulled her tightly to him. "Done and done, Joey."

Joey clutched him to her and closed her eyes.

B

"They probably killed each other," Andie said. "Pacey, this was the dumbest thing you’ve ever done."

"Or the smartest," he said, looking up at the front door. "One way or the other, McPhee, they have gotta work this out. Besides, I’m tired of tap dancing around the two of them. I’m friends with them both, and I’m tired of pretending that one doesn’t exist when I’m with the other."

Andie stared at him. "I can’t tell if you’re just the most romantic guy in the world, or the most clueless.."

"A little from column a and a little from column b," Pacey told her. "Now come on and get those keys out, okay? It’s cold out here."

"Okay," Andie said, pulling the keys out of her pocket and handing them to Pacey.

"What?"

"Go ahead," Andie urged him.

"You’re not coming?" Pacey wondered.

"I’m not going in first. It’s you they want to kill, Pacey."

He gave Andie a smile. "You’re so kind, McPhee."

Andie gave him a smile back and followed him up the stairs.

"I don’t hear anything," Pacey said as he stuck the key in the lock. "Maybe they are dead."

Andie hit him on the shoulder.

Pacey frowned at her and swung the door open. "Hello?"

Andie shut the door behind them as Pacey entered the living room. She moved up next to him, peeking around his shoulder.

"Hey guys," Dawson said from the couch.. "Take your coats off and stay a while."

"Yeah," Joey added. "Make yourselves at home."

Joey sat curled up on the couch, her back to Dawson’s chest; his arms encircled her. Both of them wore huge goofy grins.

"Am I good, or am I good?" Pacey whispered to Andie.

"They’re good," she told him. "You’re lucky."

"No, Pacey," Joey said. "You are so dead. In fact, as soon as Dawson will let me get up, I’m gonna kill you."

Dawson smiled. "You’re safe, Pacey." He leaned forward and kissed Joey’s cheek. "I’m not lettin’ you get up. Ever," he murmured to Joey.

Pacey chuckled.

"What?" they asked in unison.

"You were right, Joey," Pacey said. "Andie has rubbed off on me."

"Oh no," Andie said, "This was one-hundred per cent Pacey. I had nothing to do with this."

"Yeah," Dawson agreed. "Only Pacey would pull a stunt like this."

Pacey grinned widely. "Worked, didn’t it? Do I hear any complaints? Do I?"

Joey looked back at Dawson; both of them started laughing.

"There you go," Pacey said, sliding an arm around Andie.

"Seriously, Pacey, thanks," Dawson said.

"Really," Joey spoke. "If you hadn’t tricked us... I dunno..."

"What are friends for?" Pacey asked them.

Suddenly he frowned. "Dawson, your face," Pacey said.

"What about it?" Dawson asked.

"It’s clean," Pacey said. "My God, you shaved that scraggly little thing off."

Dawson merely beamed in response as he gave Joey a hug.

B B B

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