got bitten fingernails and a head full of the past
and everybody's gone at last
a sweet sweet smile that's fading fast
'cos everybody's gone at last
and you don't get upset about it
no not anymore
there's nothing wrong
that wasn't wrong before
had a second alone with a chance let past
and everybody's gone at last
well I hope you're not waiting
waiting around for me
'cos I'm not going anywhere
obviously
got a broken heart and your name on my cast
and everybody's gone at last
everybody's gone at last

A feeling of dread washed over Pacey as he stepped into his apartment, shopping bags in hand. He'd left her there, alone, for slightly over an hour, trusting her to stay put and stay clean. He glanced around him, not wanting to distrust her but feeling a more than anxious vibe-- not knowing what she would do next. It was her move. He could hear the television squawking from the next room, then the sound of her voice. She was on the phone.

"No really... I'm not gonna come back for a little while... I don't know... he'll be fine, Krishna. No. Look, I only called 'cause I didn't want you to worry, to let you know I was okay. That was our deal, remember? If one of us takes off, we let the other know we're not dead in an alley somewhere...

"He's an old friend from back home... I've told you about him, remember? We grew up together. ...no, not that piece of shit-- c'mon, you remember... I told you, the boy in high school, the boy I really fell in love with when I was still with Dawson, the one I didn't stay with... should have anyway... Krishna? ...him."

Pacey felt as if he was sneaking around in his own home. He didn't mean to listen to her, he simply heard.

"...right... I don't know, but... look, Krish-- No. I won't. Krishna, listen to me. I'm getting another chance to get clean and become a human being again, you have to give me that. He still loves me, I have to at least try."

He went into the kitchen and began to unpack the groceries, purposely making extra noise so she would hear that he had returned.

"Krish, I think he's back. I should go... no, no look, everything is going to be fine. Okay... yeah... tell Zach to take care of himself, all right? No, not yet... tell him I'll call back soon... no, please Krishna... no, no, no, no... don't. Hey Zach.

"No baby-- please, I don't want to come home. No! Fuck you. I can do this. No, I'll come by for it later, when I have a chance. No, I'm sorry... sure. Yeah... I love you too... I'm sorry... bye", her eyes were filled with tears. She looked up and saw Pacey standing in the doorway. He walked inside as she hung up the phone.

"You okay?", he reached out to her, brushing a fallen hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear.

"Yeah... I just wanted to tell my girlfriend not to worry about me..."

"You don't have to explain, Jo."

"I know. Well, my uh... my old man... uh... Zach, well, he's kinda freaking out", she looked away from him. "He's not so bad, y'know? We've always taken care of each other", her voice was despondent.

He sat beside her on the bed, wanting badly to grab onto her and hold her, something inside telling him to leave her be.

"I picked up some things for you... I figured you might want to change."

"Oh, Pacey... you really didn't have to do that... really.", she looked into the bag at the clothes that he chosen for her at a store around the block from his apartment. A soft, warm sweater, a couple of short-sleeved tops and jeans, comfortable stuff that she could just throw on... a pair of men's pajama pants and a hockey shirt, a bunch of pairs of underwear. He had guessed at her size, never buying clothes for a woman before... she looked pleased. "Thank you Pacey..."

"It's okay, Jo... I just want you to be comfortable. Jo? Can we stop this-- the apologizing and all that? Everything is going to be good, all right? Really... I love you, Jo", after so much time, even though he felt as if he'd said it too many times since their reunion, it still surprised him to hear his voice speak those words out loud.

"Thank you Pacey... for everything..."

"Anything..."

They sat for a long while, mutely, trying not to think about anything in particular, just sitting. She looked nervous, twisting a lock of hair around her finger, fiddling with the remote control, picking at invisible lint on her clothes. He tried not to watch her; feeling a different kind of tension between them, an unassuredness. He could feel her eyes boring into him and wished that he could read her mind.

"I'm going to make us something to eat, I'm pretty hungry. Asparagus omelettes still your favorite?"

A small smile came to her beautiful face, tearing him into a thousand pieces. It was unreal how she could still have such an intense effect over him. No matter what they'd been through-- what she'd been through, he still felt the same electric backdraft pound through him when he looked into her eyes as when they were teenagers. Nothing else in his life had ever brought him this sort of completed satisfaction, but there was something else now-- a feeling that pervaded every fiber of his being, a hopelessness that, if she didn't make it over this, neither would he.

She mostly pushed her food around the plate, but it gave Pacey an inordinate amount of gratification just seeing her put anything into her mouth at all. Everything about the woman broke his heart. He had spent so many years building her up in his mind, the Joey he'd been imagining was nothing like this woman, so broken and forlorn. He had put her on so high a pedestal that even now, with her sitting directly across from him, he was having a hard time letting her down from.

In his mind, she was an established artist, showing in all of the top SoHo galleries, selling paintings at the best prices, commanding an audience of critics and curators. Years before, he'd seen a piece of hers hanging in a small gallery in New York, part of a larger group show, the theme of which he could no longer remember. It was very random, he never went to galleries, but had been dragged as part of a date with one of the many women, between Andie and this moment, that he could never be intimate with. They walked from piece to piece, him knowing but nothing about art, and her getting the most of her critical theory degree; her voice droning on and on and him hardly listening to a word, just smiling and nodding when she would hit a beat-- figuring it the appropriate timing. He would look down the walls at the long line of paintings and photographs, watching the clock and biding his time until he could take her home and get his rocks off. Then he read her name, printed in black ink on a small, white card.

"Josephine Potter", he whispered her name and slowly tore his eyes from the card, his chest tightening and his breath held. The date's voice murmured in his ears, hardly heard over the sound of his heart palpitating against his ribcage. His eyes finally rested on the photograph, her photograph.

The piece was a self-portrait, but he could hardly make her out. Looking deeper, her form slowly emerged from the subtle mixture of shadow, light and texture. Her face was in soft focus and she didn't look into the camera but over it, as if she were looking longingly at something impossibly distant. One arm reached out in front of her, extending outside the frame, the other hand resting flush on her chest, above her exposed breasts. There were indiscriminate scratches in the emulsion about her face and chest, and muddled, fibrous, reddish-brown stains around the perimeter, coloring her hair and smeared across her mouth. It was unnerving and violent, exquisite and jarringly morose, having a distinct desperation that he recognized as the one he felt deep within himself. His hands shook uncontrollably and he tasted bile in the back of his throat, tears welled in eyes and slid to to his lower lip.

"Josephine...", his voice cut the silence like a razorblade. "I- ...what happened to us?"

"I don't want to talk about this, Pacey. I can't do it right now."

"You were-- you are the most brilliant woman I've ever known. You could have been anything you'd wanted, had everything. What happened?"

She said nothing, clearly she wanted to keep all of her pain to herself. Pacey looked into her eyes, begging.

"Everything happened. Nothing happened. We should have fought for each other years ago."

"Why didn't we?"

"I don't know."

"Do you still take pictures? Paint?"

"Sometimes. Not so much anymore, it's a very painful process for me. My own work is so personal, these days I'd rather do other people's. Mine's just... it's just... I have a job, y'know. I still get to work creatively. It's better..."

He tried not to look confused, "What do you do?"

"I assist another artist, Rachel Jason. She's pretty big. I print for her and work in her studio. It's a great job, lots of flexibility. She's showing in London right now. We're very good friends."

"Oh..."

"Do you have something to drink? I could use a drink."

"Are you sure? I don't think... I don't want to ply you with booze to get through this."

She shot a look so cold at him that his skin rose to goosebumps. She snapped.

"Pacey-- what the hell do you think is going on here? You have NO FUCKING CLUE, so don't play high and mighty social worker with me. I said I needed to do this, but don't think for a goddamn minute that I don't want to get high. I want it more than anything... so fuck you. I'm trying here and if I want a goddamn drink, I think I can decide for myself what's good for me. I'm a big girl... and I'm not a fucking alcoholic.", she stood and charged out of the room, leaving him with his mouth agape. He had forgotten how biting she could be.

"Here. I brought you one too."

"Do you want me to take you somewhere? Rehab or something?"

"What?", she stared at him as if he had three heads.

"Rehab? Some clinic or something?"

"No."

"I could take care of it, you don't have to worry about money or anything..."

"No. I said no. No rehab. No hospitals. No fucking methadone. I refuse to be locked up in some fucking hospital... no more hospitals.", her voice dropped as she said that, "I want to stay here with you."

"Anything you want, Joey. I'll be here for you, we'll get through this."

He slid over to where she sat on the bed and reached his arms around her, pulling her down to him so they were lying together. She settled into his warmth and rested her head on his chest.

"Pace?" "Yeah?", his hand traveled up her back and rested itself on her neck.

"Why are you doing this? I mean, really..."

"I'm in love with you Joey. I can't stand to see you in pain."

"That's what I mean. Why? We couldn't handle it when we were kids, we were nothing but trouble. What makes you think we can do this now?"

"Jo, you underestimated me. I could have handled it then, you weren't willing to give up Dawson. I loved you enough to give up everything for you, I didn't care about anything else, but you wanted him more."

"I never wanted him more. I always wanted you. I thought that Dawson could give me that fairytale life like his, the perfect house, the happy family. I thought that that was best for me. I never wanted to hurt you... but Pacey, we were too much, we were just too... much. When I was with Dawson, I felt like I was in complete control. I'd thought that I loved him for our entire childhood and when I finally had him, everything about me changed and I didn't want him anymore... but you know how he was; once he thought he was in love with me, he had to have me and the tables were turned. I had the reins. I felt even. When I was with you, I felt out of control, Pacey. I thought I needed Dawson's stability."

"And?"

"I was wrong."

"I wish you hadn't told me that." Pacey couldn't bear to hear any of this. The only thing that had kept him going without her for so long was the thought that she was happier without him, that she had made the right decision for herself, that the two of them had never been meant to be.

"Do you remember the last time that we made love?"

"Like it was yesterday, Joey. I told you that I loved you and I wanted us to take off together and you laughed at me."

"I'm sorry."

"You said that you'd always been in love with Dawson-- and with me... with me it had been only a... a... distraction."

"I lied."

"No. You didn't."

"I did. And I'm sorry. I should have never lied to you. I should have listened to you... I should have run away with you. Everything would have... everything... it would have been different. None of this would have happened.", her tears were coming in torrents again, she stuttered through her words and locked eyes with Pacey. He couldn't look at her, not right now-- his mind was reeling, a knot forming in the pit of his stomach. He clenched his eyes shut and felt his fists close.

"I've spent ten years pretending that you were better off without me. Ten fucking years Jo..."

"I know...", she gulped back her tears and sat up to look at him. "Pacey... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel this way. I just wanted you to know... I didn't ever mean to hurt you."

"I know.", he breathed deeply in an attempt to calm down. He had been through so many extremes of every conceivable emotion in the past day and a half, that he thought he might implode.

"Pacey... why didn't you come?"

"Huh?"

"Why didn't you come-- back to capeside for-", he cut her off.

"I promised myself I would never, ever go back there. As far as I'm concerned, Capeside doesn't exist. I've got nothing at all there, why would I go back? To see my fucked up father? What, so he could try to whip my ass or tell me again about what a fuck up I've always been? Doug? So he could maybe pull his gun on me or make me feel even worse about myself? Nope. Never went back."

"But... I thought you'd come back for the funeral, for them. They loved you. I wanted you there so badly, I kept expecting to open the door and find you standing on my porch to save me..."

"What? Wait. What funeral? Back up-- what are you talking about?"

"Oh god... Pacey... Bessie... and Bodie..."

"What? What the-- Bessie and Bodie are... they're..."

"Dead. Jesus, I thought you knew..."

"What happened?"

Joey lowered her eyes, and stared at her hands. They were shaking, both from the beginnings of withdrawal and the tumult of what had already been said between them and what she had yet to explain.

"Pacey-- they were killed... they were both killed, and my father, my father it was his... he's dead too. They were all shot... at the Icehouse. God Pacey-- I really thought that you knew."

"How?", it was not sinking in.

"I got a phone call in the middle of the night. I was living with Dawson in L.A. and I had been waiting for him to come home from a shoot and he'd just walked in a few minutes earlier. He was... we were fighting... we were having a lot of problems and... the phone rang and they told me that they were all dead, all of them... and I had to come to Capeside. I flew back the next day... I only know what your-- the Sheriff told me. he said that it looked like Bodie and Bessie had come to the restaurant and walked into something with my dad, he was already on the floor and they must have-- it seemed like Bodie must've tried to go after this guy or something, he had to have... they said he tried to shield Bessie but... probably she got shot in the shoulder first and Bodie, three times... twice in the head and one in his back, he must have been leaning over Bessie and he fell on top of her, the he killed her too, emptied the rest of his gun into her, six rounds. She died pretty quickly... Pacey, it was a real mess... my whole family... Bessie..."

"Jo..."

"No. It's okay... it was seven years ago. I'm okay... really... now. I still think of them everyday but, it's not... I try not to think about what happened... it's..."

"I'm so sorry. If I had known, I would have been there... God Jo... I had no idea."

"I kept hoping you'd show up-- I couldn't imagine you not showing up for their funeral. I was all alone."

"But Dawson was with you..."

"No."

"What? Jesus Christ, Jo... I should have been there..."

"I know..."

"What about Alexander?"

"Gone... the state."

"You're fucking kidding me?! The state? Why?"

"Because I was the only one left... and they wouldn't give him to me... they couldn't because... they said, they said I was too... unstable."

"But Jo, it was before- wasn't it?"

"No more, I can't talk about any of this anymore. It's in the past. And look at me now, what kind of mother would I be for Alex now? The state took him and he's better off for it. I would have, but they wouldn't let me...", her eyes moved wildly around the room looking for something to fixate on.

"God... Jo.. I'm so... Christ."; this, on top of everything else, was more than he could digest, he looked at her unbelievingly, beginning to understand had what had brought her to this point in her life. He held onto her more tightly than he had ever held before. When he loosened his grasp she moved even closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder, her body limp and shivering.

"Pacey... I'm really scared. I'm not so sure about this..."

"You are going to be fine. I'll help you through this... I won't let anything happen to you ever again."

"Are you sure... because, I'm not too sure...", her body shook like a leaf and he reached with one hand to pull the cover around her, within moments she had pulled it off of her again, sweating profusely.

Pacey attempted a strong face, but inside he was in deep panic, there was no time to collect his thoughts, to put the past ten years into any semblance of order or perspective. Images of Joey's family flashed through his mind, the times he had spent with each of them. Bessie had been the only other person who knew about his relationship with Joey, and she hadn't judged them, she'd almost encouraged them to be together, made it easy for them to sneak off to spend time with each other. It was her that he cried to when Joey had left him to join Dawson at school in Los Angeles. He couldn't imagine her gone. He would grieve for them later, right now he had to deal with Joey, and she didn't look so hot.

Joey lay on the bed, her face wet with sweat and tears, her body quaking as if she were freezing. She curled herself into a tight ball and held her legs up to her stomach, so tightly her knuckles were white with strain. He leaned over and stroked her hair. When she felt his touch, her hand flew up and batted it away from her looking up at him ferally, then her expression softening with recognition. Seconds later she withdrew again. Pacey stood and wandered the room, once again feeling helpless to her problems, not knowing how he could fix them and what he should do to help her.

Nothing in his experience could prepare him for this. He knew he was in over his head.

Go to part 6