"Let us embrace, and from this very moment vow an eternal misery together."
-- Thomas Otway, "The Orphan"



She had been expecting a stripper or at least some "girlie" gossip. But there was nothing. Her bachelorette party had been turned into an upscale bridal shower, complete with friends in powder pink business suits sipping expensive white wine. This was not how she wanted to spend her last night as a single woman.

As she examined her friends, she realized they were pathetic. They wouldn't have known a good party if it bit them in the ass. She wasn't sure why she had expected more from them.

Many of the women had left early, needing to tuck children into bed or cook a late dinner for their husbands. Her maid of honor and another unmarried bridesmaid were having a discussion on the shape of Stuart Scott's head as they watched the late edition of Sportscenter on the big screen television.

As a man opened the door to leave, she saw him outside being pounded by the pouring rain. He moved his head slightly and smiled. She nodded, mumbled a half-hearted apology, and went outside.

She searched for him outside, only for him to be nowhere in sight. "Pacey?" she whispered, not even attempting to be louder than the pouring rain. "Where'd you go? Pacey?"

Suddenly he pulled her by the hand into a nearby dark alley. Before anything could register for her, he had her pressed against the cold, hard, rough brick. He was kissing her hard and deep. Her mind raced as his hands covered her, as his kisses smothered her, as, out of the rain, she drowned in him.

Her chest heaved as she searched for her breath when he pulled away. He grinned at her, as he wiped his mouth with the back of his left hand.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. "It's the night before the wedding, and you know that--"

"I know," he said, gently nodding as he placed two fingers over her lips. "I don't care about traditions, I just had to see you."

She kissed his fingers gently. "I'm glad," she said. "Please take me away from here."

"I'm way ahead of you," he said, pulling a card from his pocket. He handed the card to her. "Hilton, Room 311. Half an hour."

"That long?" she asked, widening her eyes in an attempt to look seductive.

He nodded, resting his hand on the wall behind her head, and leaning closer. "Say goodbye to your friends. It will be well worth the wait." He kissed her hard before disappearing. She stood there for a moment before returning to the bar.

* * * * *

She wasn't sure what she was doing as she trolled the pastel colored halls of the Hilton. Her eyes fell on the door to room 311. This was a rather odd way to spend the eve of her wedding, she figured. But she wanted to be there, regardless of what tradition dictated.

There was a gentle click when she slid the key in the slot. She was greeted by beautiful smells that reminded her of a garden. There were candles scattered around the room. How cliched of him, she thought, unable to suppress her wicked grin. There were flowers too. No roses, but beautiful wildflowers of all colors, all shapes, all sizes. It looked gorgeous, like a garden brought inside.

"You like it?" she heard come from behind her.

"It's beautiful," she said, spinning around to him. "Why'd you do this?"

"I wanted tonight to be special," he whispered, gently caressing her cheek.

"Why tonight?" she asked weakly.

"Because it's so many things--the first, the last. Because tonight is just about you and me."

She raked her fingernails along his bare chest gently. Sometimes she had trouble deciphering between the rehearsed lines and the actual worded emotions. He was always a puzzle, always keeping her on her toes.

"What are you going to do tonight?" she asked teasingly.

"I'm going to make love to you," he said, the sincerity blaring through that time. "I'm going to show you everything I can't say."

"Show me," she whispered.

He placed his hands on her hips, and bent down to give her a gentle kiss. The passion was there, though. She could feel it. His kisses burned through her skin as he made his way along her cheek, down her neck, across her shoulder as he moved the fabric of her shirt to expose the skin. He was so sweet, but so hot. He had a way of making her feel like she was on fire.

She grasped at his shoulders, as she felt his hands explore her chest, softly fumbling over her stomach, moving up to caress her breasts through her bra. She walked forward, urging him toward the bed. He fell on his back she pushed him on to the bed. She straddled his hips, and used one of her delicate hands to hold his wrists over his head, as she explored his bare chest with her lips and tongue.

He watched her, a soft smile on his lips. Easily, he could've freed his hands from her grasp, but he didn't want to. The night would end all too quickly. She sat up, and began to unbutton the large white buttons of her silk shirt, smiling down at him as he licked his lips in anticipation.

Maybe her last night as a single woman would turn out better than she had suspected.

* * * * *

Joey looked at the red numbers on the alarm clock. It said that it was nearly four in the morning. She rolled over, but didn't move enough to extract herself from Pacey's grasp. Gently, she laid a kiss on his lips. His eyes fluttered open and he smiled softly. "Hey," he whispered.

"Hey," she returned. "It's four o'clock. Missy's coming to get me at seven, so I've got to get home."

"Don't go," he said, reaching out to touch her, but not knowing where to put his hand.

"I have to go," she said gently. "You know I do." She smiled at him softly. "I'm going to see you in a couple hours, right?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

She leaned in and kissed him. He deepened the kiss quickly, and after a few minutes, she finally pulled away.

Picking up her clothes, and putting them on, she looked back at him only once. He had turned away, and she assumed that he'd fallen back to sleep. "I'll see you later," she whispered before walking out the door.

* * * * *

Joey took a deep breath as she stood behind the closed church doors. Any second they would open, and she would walk down the aisle all alone. She'd never seen it another way, of course, considering how her father never had been able to stay out of jail.

Her chest tightened as the doors opened and all eyes fell on her. Her mind began to coerce with the thoughts that she could possibly be making a huge mistake. She began to walk, but did it in such a way that she could turn around and make a run for it, should it be necessary.

Her eyes skimmed along the front of the church, hoping to find some solace in the eyes of someone in the wedding party, but there was nothing. The knot in her stomach tightened as she inched closer. She watched Pacey, standing there unaffected in his tuxedo. His green eyes were unreadable as he stood there, still.

She looked at the preacher seriously, feeling she would lose her nerve if she looked anywhere else.

"Dear friends and family, we are gathered together today to join these two young people in the holy bond of matrimony," he began, a jolly smile as he spoke.

They had been through the rehearsal, and Joey knew what was next. Her eyes fell on Pacey, as he stood quietly, staring blankly at the alter. "If there is anyone who believes these two should not be joined in marriage, speak now, or forever hold your piece."

His eyes met hers briefly, breathing the slightest air of apology, as the room held its collective breath in quiet.

Joey fought to blink tears away. Something inside her had said it wouldn't be this way, but yet it was. The minister's smile beamed as he looked back at her. "Josephine, Dawson, today you begin a long journey. A journey of body, mind, and spirit, where you will vow to never go at life alone, to accept each challenge together, to grow together each day in love."

Joey looked back at Dawson guiltily. He wore an unknowing, wide grin. She tried desperately to smile back at him, knowing in just minutes they would leave the church as husband and wife. Her reservations had been realized, however. There was no turning back now. She was getting married, and he was letting her marry the wrong person.

"Now, if you two would please share your vows," the minister said, nodding his head to Joey.

Joey fought with her throat as Dawson turned to face her. She looked into his eyes, and was comforted by their lovingness and familiarity. Comforted enough to be able to remember and speak her rehearsed lines.

"I, Josephine Potter, take you, Dawson, to be my husband, secure in the knowledge that you will be my constant friend, my faithful partner in life, and my one true love.

"On this special day, I give to you my sacred promise to stay by your side as your wife in sickness and in health, in joy and in sorrow, as well as through the good times and the bad. I promise to love you without reservation, comfort you in times of distress, encourage you to achieve higher goals, laugh with you and cry with you, grow with you in mind and spirit, always be open and honest with you, and cherish you for as long as we both shall live."

She choked on her own tears, as Dawson reassuringly took her hand in his, and squeezed it gently. Her eyes focused over Dawson's shoulder, where she could see Pacey standing emotionless. This didn't seem to be affecting him, and she hated him for it. She watched Pacey as Dawson spoke, and felt like she was already betraying her vows.

"I, Dawson Leery, take you, Joey," Dawson began, pausing briefly to smile, "to be my wife, knowing in my heart that you will be my constant friend, my faithful partner in life, and my one true love.

"On this special day, I give to you my sacred promise to stay by your side as your husband in sickness and in health, in joy and in sorrow, as well as through the good times and the bad. I promise to love you without reservation, honor and respect you, provide for your needs as best I can, protect you from harm, comfort you in times of distress, grow with you in mind and spirit, always be open and honest with you, and cherish you for as long as we both shall live."

His smile was genuine, and she knew that he meant every word he'd spoken. He would be a good husband, she knew he would be. She could do a lot worse. In fact, she had done a lot worse. The man who claimed to be making love to her last night was now serving as the best man at her wedding. That was probably as low as you could get.

When Dawson kissed her, she made a vow to herself. She would love him. She would love him like she used to. She would erase every memory of Pacey Witter from her consciousness. She would start her life anew as Dawson's wife.

She was going to be a good wife.

* * * * *

"...Now my fingers were trembling.
How quickly good feelings turn bad.
How easily he was fooled.
A tear was burning in my eye.
I pushed it back.
Crying was a weak person's luxury."
-- Amy Tan, The Hundred Secret Senses



"Dawson, this is so silly," she giggled. She was kicking her feet in protest, making it difficult for him to keep his grasp on her.

"Come on, Jo, it's tradition," he said. "I'm supposed to carry you over the threshold. So just sit still and it'll be over in a second."

"You've told me that before," she said dryly.

"I could drop you flat on your ass, you know," he said.

She sighed. "Get it over with."

He stepped through the doorway effortlessly and dropped her to her feet. His face was close to hers as he whispered, "Welcome home, Mrs. Leery."

She smiled and laid a soft kiss on his lips. "Some traditions aren't so bad," she murmured.

"I have a few ideas about what we should do now," he said, grinning mischievously.

"You've had the same idea for the past seven days, Dawson," she smiled.

"You were the one who wanted to abstain before the wedding," he said in a fake, scolding voice.

She didn't understand why he had to go there. She rubbed her eyes. Things had been easy in Hawaii, but now they were home. They were married. They were facing pressue he didn't even know about.

"I was kidding, you know," he said, looking concerned.

She fought to smile, hoping her cheeks would be able to hold the tears back. "I know," she said. The guilt was paramount, however. "I, um, I just didn't realize you'd be so . . . hungry."

He smiled at her choice of word. "There isn't anything that could keep me from wanting you, Jo," he whispered, wrapping his arm around her waist, pulling her closer.

"I can see that," she grinned, her fingers leisurely trailing along his chest, hovering below his belt.

"You're not hungry?" he asked. "Not even a little?"

"We definitely have to christen this place, Mr. Leery," she said, leaning in and kissing him hard.

* * * * *

Joey wrapped the white towel securely around her wet hair and went in search of her purse, hoping to find a lifesaver or something. Dawson had gone to get some food, but she was already starving. Her search was interrupted by a knock at the door.

She knew that it was inevitable, but didn't understand why it had to come so soon. His reaction was similar, as she noted how quickly his face paled. "What are you doing here?" she asked.

"I don't know," he said. "I just . . ." He stopped, knowing better than to continue. The last thing she would want to hear was that he came just to see her. She wouldn't believe it. She wouldn't like it.

"Dawson went to the store," she said. "I don't know how long he'll be."

"I take that to mean you want me to go," he said dejectedly.

"I'm glad you understand," she mumbled, attempting to push the door closed.

But he pushed back. "What was I supposed to do?" he asked.

She laughed, stepping back and letting him inside. Unconsciously she pulled the belt of her robe tighter. She watched him seriously, nervously twisting her wedding band. "Say your peace and then go."

He shook his head. "I don't know what to say."

She rolled her eyes. "There's nothing to say. I think that . . . the past is the past."

"And you're married."

"Yes."

"I guess that I was just supposed to bust up the whole wedding, declare my undying love for you, and carry you out of there like we were straight outta An Officer and a Gentleman," he said.

"Maybe. I don't know what you were supposed to do," she said, shutting the door, and walking past him.

"You're the one who got married," he said.

"You're the one who let me."

"Let you my ass. I don't control you."

She shook her head, pulling her hair out of the towel, trying desperately not to look at him. "You could've told me what you wanted."

He moved closer to her, placing a gentle hand on her damp cheek. "Maybe I wasn't sure about what I wanted. Maybe I just wanted you."

"You stood there and let me marry someone else. I don't see how that could be you wanting me too much," she said. She pulled away from him, turning away. "I don't get you."

"I don't understand what you want from me," he said, walking over to the picture window and looking down on the city.

"I don't want anything from you," she said, causing him to look back over his shoulder at her. "I don't need anything from you," she added.

He nodded and walked toward the door. "I guess that's all there is to it, then."

She exhaled, lifting her eyes to the ceiling. "I'm not . . . I'm not trying to hurt you."

He grasped the doorknob tightly with his hand, refusing to look back at her. "I know that," he said. "You and I are just . . . nothing."

"That's one way to look at it."

"At this point, it's the only way to look at it," he said, turning the doorhandle. "Tell Dawson I said welcome back, and . . . congratulations."

He walked out the door, refusing to look back.

* * * * *

"Josephine Potter," Joey answered gruffly into the phone, barely looking away from the computer screen.

"Joey," he said softly.

Suddenly she stopped. Her fingers quit moving and her mind went blank. "What are you calling me for?"

"I don't know."

"Phone sex counts too," she whispered.

He laughed faintly. "That only happened once."

"I'm trying to work, Pacey," she said in a poor attempt to get him to hang up. A poor attempt because she didn't really want him to hang up.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," he said, his voice soft and low.

She nodded her head, forgetting he couldn't see her.

"Jo?" he asked.

"Yeah?" she said, her mind off on a million tangents at once.

"I'm sorry," he echoed. "For yesterday . . . for everything."

She closed her eyes, thinking for a moment. It was always easier for her to resist him when he was being stubborn and self-righteous, but when he showed vulnerability by apologizing, her resistance would always crumble. The first time she'd been with him was when he was at a low point, when he let himself show through in a moment of sadness and frustration.

When the long silence on the phone continued, he spoke again. "That night," he began, referring to the night before her wedding. "I . . . you . . . you left. I took that to mean it was our last night together and that you were still going through with the wedding. I didn't think I had the . . . right to question that."

"Maybe you should have," she said softly. "It's not like I'm getting any younger, Pace. It was time. And you . . . you never told me what you were thinking, how you were feeling. God, I don't know how many times I was with you, and . . . I still don't think I know you."

"It wouldn't have been so easy if you had," he answered, his voice still in a hushed tone.

"What's that mean?" she asked. She so desperately wanted to understand him and rid herself of him at the same time.

"Nothing," he answered.

"I want to see you," she said suddenly. She wasn't exactly sure where the words came from, but they were sincere. She wanted to know what he was being so cryptic about, and she just wanted to lay her eyes on him again. She couldn't go completely cold turkey after having looked at him so many times before, after having been so intimate with him.

"That's probably not a good idea," he said guardedly.

"Dawson's working," she said, for her own clarification more than his.

"I'll be home tonight after my shift," he said after a pause. "You can stop by . . ."

Her need to see him was outweighed by her fear of what may happen if she ended up with him in his empty apartment. It was risky. But it was a risk she needed to take. "I'll see you around one, then," she said.

* * * * *

Joey sighed as she leaned against the wall. Finally, she slid down its length, and brought her knees to her chest. She looked at her watch and saw it was nearly 2:00. She wasn't sure what was keeping him, and she hoped he was okay.

Pacey worked as an EMT, and she often wondered just how safe he was out in the city late at night, especially considering the world was so dangerous. Of course, she always thought that something about the uncertainty of it excited him, the adventure fed a thirst that he needed to quench. Sort of like her, she supposed.

He'd give these long dissertations about how everyday going to work was exciting and about never knowing what the next call would bring. He didn't drive a BMW like Dawson did and he didn't have as nice of an apartment and she and Dawson. But the look in his eyes was unmistakable--when he went to work, he was happy.

Yet, she worried. She shouldn't, but she did. Even though he'd said they were "nothing" to each other, they were still something. She'd have these horrible, morbid dreams sometimes about her reaction if she were to find out that something had happened to him.

He came around the corner and smiled a tight, half-smile at her. "Hey," he said.

"Is something wrong?" she asked. She looked him over carefully. His hair was ruffled, his face covered in ash, and he had a nasty looking abrasion on his left forearm.

He followed her eyes to his arm and shrugged. "I was getting out of the bus, and fell," he said, chuckling softly, as her turned his key and opened the door. She still hated to hear him call the ambulance the "bus."

"Let me help you clean it up," she said, following him inside.

He looked at her silently, not sure how to answer. This situation could be classified as awkward, at best. "I just really want a shower," he said gently. "Maybe we should do this some other time."

"I'll wait," she said, softly.

She sat on the sofa in Pacey's living room while she waited, listening to the running water in the shower, as she flipped through and old copy of Psychology Today that was on his coffee table. She concentrated on the sound of the water, letting her imagination go wild when she didn't want it to. Her cell phone was ringing, and she absently picked up her purse to answer it. "Hello," she said.

"Hey, Jo," Dawson replied easily. "I just tried home and you didn't answer."

"I'm not home," Joey said quietly. "Why? Is something the matter?"

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Pacey had a rough night at work and couldn't sleep. He called to see if I wanted to go for coffee." She wondered if that response had sounded rehearsed. It wasn't, but lying like this had become easy for her.

"Oh," Dawson said. "Tell him I said hi."

"Sure," Joey said.

"I should be home around six, barring no unfortunate disaster," Dawson said. "I love you."

"Okay," Joey said. "Me too. See you in a couple hours."

"Bye, Jo," he whispered. She hit end, and turned the phone off. She didn't want him calling again.

"Hey, Jo?" she heard Pacey call from the bathroom. "Will you still help me out?"

"Sure," she said, walking back toward the bathroom. She stopped in the doorway when she saw him. He was leaning against the sink wrapped only in a dingy white towel at the waist, his head still dripping wet. He was looking at his arm, trying to figure out how to clean his abrasion. "What's wrong?" he asked, looking up at her.

She shook her head. He laughed. "It's nothing you haven't seen before."

She supposed he was right. Maybe he just had more self-control than she did. When he was around, especially when he would look at her a certain way, or say a certain thing, or stand there like he was now, the line between right and wrong became so blurred she wondered if it ever existed at all.

She walked over to him, and took the alcohol prep from his hand and began to clean his arm. She stopped when he sharply sucked in his breath. "You're such a baby," she laughed.

He sighed, and closed his eyes as she continued. "I was worried about you, you know," she said, trying to keep her tone light and airy so that it would seem to be nothing more than in passing.

"I'm fine," he said. "A little rougher for the wear."

"You could work an earlier shift, you know," she offered. "Things wouldn't be so hectic."

"I like it hectic," he said.

She laughed, not letting her eyes leave his arm. "I know."

"Baby, I--" he began, stopping mid-sentence. "Joey, I'm . . ." He stopped again and shook his head. "I'm just trying to make it."

She looked at him briefly. "That's what we're all trying to do."

He nodded his head slowly. He watched her as she spread antibiotic ointment over his arm. He got caught up in examining her face with a strict look of concentration, as she bit on her lower lip. Her eyes met his, and her breath caught in her throat. "All better," she whispered.

"Mm hm," he mumbled, staring intently at her. "I can hardly feel a thing."

She moved closer to him, pressing her body against his in a gentle, but unwavering manner. He opened his mouth to speak, but was caught off guard when she gently began to suck on his bottom lip. She was slow and thorough, almost tortuous, as she sucked, stopping to gently nibble on his lip. She loved the feeling of his hot breath against her face.

He slowly moved his tongue along her lip, and she finally fulfilled his silent request, meeting him in a kiss. She curled her hand around his neck, as he moved his hands around her back. She felt him lift her shirt and gently begin to stroke the small of her back, just as he'd always done. His touch was more rough than she'd remembered, but even his calloused fingers had a soft, gentle touch. His fingers left goose pimples in their wake as they traveled up and down across her skin. They trailed lower with each sweep.

Her hand slowly crept across his face, down his chest where she grasped the towel he was wearing. She felt his hand on hers as she attempted to pull the towel from between them. He pulled away from her, his eyes remaining closed, his fingers stopping, but lingering on her back.

"You should go," he whispered.

She shook her head, resting her hand on his cheek. "I don't want to."

"Go," he said, raising his voice a bit.

"Pace--"

"You made the choice."

She laughed, stepping back from him. She wanted to cry, but she'd be damned if she'd let him see that. That was all he was trying to do. He was using all his intimate knowledge of her to hurt her. And it was working.

She should've known that it would be like this. Wanting him could go away just as easily as it had come when he did something like this. Now, he was teaching her a lesson. She'd made a choice without even knowing it, and she'd chosen Dawson. It didn't take long for the novelty to wear off. It hadn't been two days since she got back from her honeymoon, and there she was, ready to screw Pacey against his bathroom sink.

Even if he was being a bastard, this time he was right. She should go.

* * * * *

"I long to touch your soul,
To taste the sacredness of you,
A love so pure, sublime, serene...
A dream contemptuous of time.
Come to me, Love,
And wrap me up
In endless dreams,
Caresses sweet
With gentleness and joy.
My aching heart,
Filled with desire,
Would gladly soar
Through time and space
Just to dissolve in
Your embrace once more...
And melt into
Your soul's sweet fire."
--My Dream by Andy Covington



She shut the door tightly, turning the lock on it before even switching on the light. She looked in the mirror only briefly to view her own wounded expression. Falling into the corner, she slid down between the door and wall, pulled her knees to her chest, and began to cry.

It wasn't openly weeping or even sobbing. Her chest didn't heave, and the rhythm of her breath didn't change. The tears just flowed easily from her eyes, blurring her sight, and refusing to do anything other than fall down her cheeks and softly seeped into her jeans, others hitting the tiles.

He had no right to have this much power over her. Most of all, she was angry at herself for allowing him to. She was married. She was married to the man that she'd loved since she was fifteen years old. Why wasn't that enough?

The tears fell harder, and her vision blurred more. She wasn't sure, but somehow she made the transition from sad to livid. She was angry. Pacey was the obstacle keeping her from her happiness. He shouldn't be. But why did the anger fade just a quickly as it came? Now the tears were more real, and she was sobbing.

Her first mistake was ever letting it be about more than sex. He never should have been able to hurt her. She closed her eyes, and could see him so clearly. The way that he would stroke her back after they made love. The way he would whisper in her ear when they were together. The way he'd pay attention to every single solitary thing about her, doing something as simple as kissing her fingertips. She could see his smile, hear his laugh.

But she could also feel the pain. Being with him hadn't been easy. He was distant and closed off. He knew how to manipulate her just as he had the same evening. For everything she loved about him, there was something she hated about him.

And she was married. God, she couldn't let herself forget that.

She heard a faint tap on the door. "Jo? You in there?"

She began to wipe her eyes when she heard Dawson. In the mirror, she saw her eyes were puffy and red. Before she left the bathroom, she prayed that he didn't have the light on.

She climbed into bed with him, not saying a word. He said something, but she didn't hear. She was too consumed with her own thoughts. They didn't stop as he snuggled next to her and slowly drifted off to sleep.

This couldn't go on for much longer.

* * * * *

Pacey walked into work slowly. It was snowing outside and cold. It just wasn't a night he wanted to be working. Inside the fire station, he threw his things in his locker and made his way to the kitchen.

"Witter, you've got a visitor in the conference room," his boss said, passing by. "Take as long as you need, but be ready to go out on a call. It's been hell out there today."

"Sure, Doc," Pacey said. He changed direction and headed for the conference room.

He shook his head when he saw her, perched at the opposite end of the rickety, old, long table. Her palms were placed on the table, and she looked back at him coldly.

"I'm at work," he said, his voice painfully even.

"We need to talk," she said.

He exhaled, shaking his head. "Not now."

"You have no right," she said, unwilling to leave as he wanted her to. She needed to have this conversation now, after a day of stewing over what she wanted to say.

He shut the door and leaned against it slowly. "I have no right to do what?" he asked with a patronizing tone.

"You have no right to ruin my life!" she shouted.

He shook his head, half humored, half angered by her audacity. He sat down in the chair, cockily putting his leg on the table as he leaned back. "You're the one who waited for me last night and you're the one who wanted to fuck me in my bathroom."

She walked up beside him and leaned on her hand, moving closer to him. "Don't think for one second I didn't know exactly what you were doing last night," she spat.

He sat up straight in his chair and looked her in the eye. "Just tell me how I became the bastard in this scenario," he said calmly. "Tell me."

"You've always been the bastard in this scenario," she bit back.

He laughed bitterly and shook his head. "You slept with me. You got married. You want to have an affair with me right now."

Her hand made a resounding noise when it connected sturdily with his face. "Fuck you, Pacey," she said, her tone low and angry.

He stood up, and backed her firmly against the wall, his hands resting on each side of her shoulders. "Who the hell do you think you are, Joey?" he said, his voice rough and hard. "Don't you dare play the victim in this for one single, solitary second."

"So I suppose you're the victim?" she asked.

"What exactly were your intentions coming to my apartment last night?" he asked.

"I wanted to talk to you," she said.

He laughed, shaking his head slowly. "There was nothing left to talk about. You know what you came for."

She held her left hand up in front of his face, wiggling her fingers. "I'm married," she emphasized.

"Does that matter?" he asked, raising his eyebrow. "You were sleeping with me when you were engaged. You slept with me the night before your wedding. How are things so different now?"

"Maybe now I see you for who you really are," she said.

He pulled away from her and scowled. "Get out," he spat coldly.

"I'm not done," she said, not moving from her spot.

"We just have the same argument over and over again, and I'm sick of it. I'm not going to let you blame me anymore. I just want you to go."

He was doing it again and she wanted to scream. It was so hard to tell the vulnerability from the manipulation. As much as she knew that he was probably using whatever means necessary to get her out of there, she couldn't help but to weaken just a bit.

"Pace," she said, her voice much more reserved. She reached her hand out, but he pulled his away.

"Go," he said.

"What's going on?" she said, her voice in a whisper.

"You want me to fight with you," he asked, moving closer to her. "That makes it easier, doesn't it?"

She shook her head and looked down at her feet. "Nothing about this is easy, Pacey."

"Tell me what you want."

She looked up at him, her eyes shining mysteriously. "I want everything to be okay."

"That's not going to happen," he said.

She laid her head on his chest for just a moment, breathing slowly. She pulled away when he didn't put his arms around her like she'd hoped he would. She didn't know why she wanted him to do it, but she did.

He stared into her eyes for a moment, watching her mysteriously. "You should go, Jo."

"You want me to go?" she asked softly.

"I think you should go," he said.

"What do you want?"

He looked back to the door when he heard someone knocking heavy handedly. "Witter, we've got a call. Let's go."

"I have to go," he said. He didn't wait before turning and leaving her alone in the room.

There was no way she could make it better. If anything, seeing him just made it worse. Maybe she couldn't see him anymore.

* * * * *

Joey watched her husband as he slept. He looked peaceful, so unaware. She wanted that. She missed that. She missed the times when she could watch him sleep and not think of anything else. She missed the times when she could fall asleep because she was happy with him and had nothing else to worry about.

Those times were gone.

The sound was faint, but she could hear her cell phone ringing from the bottom of her purse. She leaned over the edge of her bed and searched for the phone. There was only one person it could possibly be, and while she knew that talking to him would only make things worse, she knew she had to do it. "Hello," she answered softly, trying not to wake Dawson.

"Jo?"

"Yeah, Pace," she whispered. "It's me."

"I need to see you," he said. There was a tightness in his voice she couldn't ignore. Something was wrong.

"Pace, I--"

"Please," he said softly.

"Okay," she said. "Give me fifteen minutes."

* * * * *

When she got to Pacey's apartment, she used her key. She'd told Dawson as he lay half-asleep that she had a client who'd tried to kill herself, and had to go to the hospital. She supposed her job came with built-in excuses like that. Maybe the ease of being able to lie to her husband made up for the low pay.

Inside things were dark, quiet as she maneuvered through the room. He was in his bedroom, sitting in the corner on the floor. His elbows rested on his knees, as some light from the street poured in through his window. She dropped her purse on the floor and leaned her head against the door frame. She watched him for a moment, as he was in such silent contemplation, and she wondered what had made him like that.

"Hey," she said, keeping her voice soft as to not disturb the somber mood.

"Hey," he returned.

She walked toward him slowly, sitting beside him, her back against the closet. "Is something wrong?" she asked.

"I delivered a baby tonight," he said softly. "Woman in premature labor and it came so quickly."

Joey watched him quietly, because she didn't understand how something so joyous could've affected him so negatively. "It was nice," he continued. He looked at her, his expression unreadable. "It was life, Joey."

"That's nice, Pacey," she said, stroking his face softly.

"Her husband held her hand . . . and all the sudden they went from a couple to a family." He looked at her seriously. "I'm not going to have that."

"Is that what's wrong?" she asked.

He nodded. "You and Dawson are going to do the same thing. And I'll be left as . . . Uncle Pacey. I'm going to be a man who dies with no one really loving him, no nothing. That's going to be my payback for all the mistakes that I've made."

"Don't say that, Pacey," she said, shaking her head and closing her eyes.

"Why hide from the truth, Jo?"

"You're not unloved," she said softly. She saw the vulnerability when he looked back into her eyes, and she knew only one way to make it better. "You're not," she echoed, pulling him closer and laying a soft kiss on his lips.

He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, as he pulled away slightly, his hand grasping the hair at the nape of her neck. "I'm not supposed to need you," he said defeatedly.

She could feel the tears in her eyes, and she so desperately wanted to cry. It was never supposed to be like this. It was never supposed to be wrong. She was never supposed to be this person. "I'm not allowed to want you."

"God, Joey, I've fucked up so bad," he said, his voice forced as he continued to hold on to her for dear life.

"So did I," she whispered. She kissed him again, trailing up to his eyes, laying soft kisses on the lids. "It doesn't matter anymore. Nothing matters . . . nothing but you."

He kissed her back this time, and he reminded her of everything, of all the times that she needed him so badly, the times when she wanted him so badly. And it was wrong. That's all it was. It was wrong. But that didn't matter. He was all that mattered.

He was low, and that was when she loved him the most. And even though she'd never said it, she did love him. He was so gentle and so slow as he laid her down on the floor. Her tears mixed with his as they stayed locked together. He was slow and tender as he made love to her, and things were fine in that moment.

The problem would be when she would have to leave. She would have to look at the real world through a different set of eyes. As Pacey moved slowly inside her, all she saw were his eyes.

She didn't think about the consequences of having to look into her husband's eyes and know that she had broken her vows. That would be important tomorrow, and she couldn't let it be important before then.

* * * * *

"Free my heart to feel again
Free my mind to understand
Pull the blinds from my eyes
Let me see these endless skies
Tear this anger from my soul
Wash me clean and make me whole
Work my hands to make them strong
Lift my arms to carry on
Anywhere I go, never be alone
Finding myself too far from home"
-- Don Sweetman

She looked back at herself in the mirror on the sun visor. It was a horrible sight. Her hair was a mess, her eyes puffy from the tears. She dug through her purse for a tissue, and began wiping her face. After getting out her make-up bag, she began to re-apply her foundation.

Anything to keep her from having to go inside.

As she applied the powder to her face, she began to weep again. It was hopeless, really. She'd probably weep until she was out of tears. It was that simple and that complex all at the same time.

She didn't know what she was going to say to him.

She was going to lie. She knew that.

There was no way in hell that she'd tell Dawson the truth. She could just see how that'd go over. You know your best friend Pacey? The guy you've known since you were five? Well, I slept with him last night. I know we're married and all, but I was sleeping with him long before that happened. Yeah right.

Dawson didn't deserve this. And she didn't deserve Dawson. She didn't know why he'd been stupid enough to agree. After all, she'd only agreed to the wedding thinking he'd back out in the last minute. Of course, he went through with it. He never found out about what had happened between she and Pacey.

Even she was astounded that it ever happened.

He was quiet, staring at his abnormal psych book, but not quite seeing the words on the pages. She looked up from her own book thoughtfully. "Is something the matter?"

He shook his head, slamming the book shut as he stood to pace the room. "I thought you were going out with Dawson tonight?"

"He's hung up in the computer lab. He lost his whole econ paper nearly halfway through it. He'll be all night doing the rewrite. Why? Do you want to go out tonight?"

"No. Yes. I don't know," he said, shaking his head.

"What?" she asked confusedly. "What's up with you tonight?"

He looked back at her, running an absent hand through his hair. "I'm moving out."

"Moving out?" she asked, tucking her foot underneath her leg, setting her book aside on the end-table. "You can't be serious. How are you going to pay for school and live on your own?"

"I'm moving into the dorms," he said. "Changing my major, starting over."

"What? It's too hard for you to live with Dawson and me now? We interfere with your studying or something? Because if I recall, you're the one who's waking us up at night bringing women back here."

He shook his head. "You just wouldn't understand, Jo."

"Try me."

He shook his head again. "I don't think so."

"You could at least give me an explanation," she said. "I thought we had a really happy home here. I'd worry about you if you weren't here so I could keep an eye on you. Whatever the problem is, I'm sure we can fix it."

"I want to sleep with you."

"What?"

"See, that would definitely break up our happy little home," he said sarcastically.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Pacey?" she screamed, bursting on to her feet. "Have you lost your damn mind?"

He smiled ruefully. "Obviously. Tomorrow I'll be out of the way, so it will make no difference."

"Pacey," she sighed, weakening a bit. She rested an absent hand on his shoulder. "You're just . . . you're over-reacting, Pacey."

He nodded, turning around slowly. "Sure, Joey. I'm overreacting. It's perfectly normal for a man to think about screwing his best friend's girlfriend day and night. I should just fuck you and get it out of my system, right?"

"Will that help?" she asked softly. She felt like her mouth had gone independent of the rest of her body. It was way too appealing, and if she'd been able to think about anything else other than the mental image it provoked, she surely wouldn't have said it.

He looked at her doubtfully. "Have you fucking lost your mind?"

"I think about it too," she shrugged. "I hear you some nights, you know."

"Maybe I should start packing," he said, walking quickly back to his room.

She followed him. "Maybe you're right, Pacey. If we just . . . do it, we won't have to wonder anymore."

"No."

She laughed. "What? I'm not as good as those two-bit whores you bring home on the weekend, Pacey? My inexperience would be lost on a man as worldly as you? Get the hell over yourself."

"What about Dawson?"

"Dawson's not here."

"So you're willing to give up what you have with Dawson for a night with me?"

"I'm not giving up anything. This isn't about feeling or emotion or me leaving him for you. You want to sleep with me. I want to sleep with you. So why the hell don't we do it? It's not like it'll mean anything."

"Fine."

"Fine."

"So . . ." he said, waiting for her.

"So," she echoed. She hadn't pictured the moment being so awkward. "Kiss me."

And he did.

It wasn't as tentative as she'd expected. It burned, sending tingles through every nerve ending in her body in record time. Her legs had somehow gone limp, and she felt Pacey back her toward the wall, pinning her against it.

In a moment of quick thinking, she managed to shut his bedroom door and turn the lock. That would've been some unexpected situation for Dawson to walk in on.

Her breath grew labored quickly, and everything about them and their movement was frantic. They both quickly removed only the clothing that stood in the way.

She pulled away slightly. "On the bed." When he didn't move, only moving his lips to her neck, she pushed him backward.

He toppled back on the bed, finally taking a moment and looking up at her. He watched her for a moment, taking in her disheveled condition, trying to figure out how his fantasy matched reality. She pushed his pants to the ground and he kicked them off. She wasted no time straddling him and quickly lowering herself on to his erection.

It had been quick, over in a matter of minutes. That was the way they both wanted it. When it was over, they didn't lay together and there were no loving words or caresses. She replaced her clothes, just as he did, before leaving the room.

And he continued to pack.

Joey sighed, resting her head on the steering wheel. It had started innocently. It had been a plan to end all the tension. They had both been as unfeeling and removed as possible.

But it didn't work. They found themselves in the same position every time they were alone, even long after Pacey'd left the apartment. It got more complicated. Feelings got involved. She'd began to lay with him afterward. It had gotten more dangerous.

Now it was as dangerous as it could get. She wondered if the guilt she'd felt when she looked in Dawson's eyes after she'd first slept with Pacey would be there again. She wondered if she'd crack for good this time.

There was only one way to find out.

* * * * *

She checked her face in the compact one more time. Her hand shook, but her face looked fine. Digging through her purse, she found her key and unlocked the door.

Dawson was inside, cooking pancakes in the kitchen. "Hey, Jo," he said, looking over his shoulder to smile at her. "How's your client?"

Her face fell as she watched him, standing there so innocently. She sighed, dropping her purse to the floor, letting her face fall into her hands. He walked to her enveloping her in his arms. "Shh," he soothed, gently rubbing her back just under her shoulder blade. "It's okay, Jo," he murmured.

She buried her head in his shoulder deeply as she began to weep. She had never planned to do this to him. He didn't deserve it.

When she pulled away and saw him staring back at her, the concern deep in his eyes. She knew there was only one way to fix it.

She had to leave.

* * * * *

She ate quietly with Dawson. He didn't press her, because she'd let him think that one of her clients had been successful in his suicide attempt last night. She'd called in sick to work, and Dawson had tucked her safely and securely in the bed before he left for the hospital, kissing her softly on the cheek.

After he'd left, she got up out of her bed, and consciously began to pack her things. She hadn't been married for a month, and she was leaving her husband. It was the only thing she could do. He deserved not to have to endure the pain that news of her nights with Pacey would bring. It would be easier if she just was out of his life for good.

But she didn't know where she'd go, or what she'd do.

She picked up her cell phone, and dialed him with little thought. "Pacey," she said when she was relieved he'd answered. "I need a favor."

"What is it?" he asked.

"I need to stay with you tonight. Can I come to your apartment tonight?"

"What's going on, Jo?"

"I'm leaving him," she said softly. "I'm not asking you for anything," she clarified, "but I just need somewhere to stay tonight. And I just need someone to talk to. I'm not asking you for much."

"Okay," he said softly. "You're making a mistake, though."

"Don't do this now, Pacey," she whispered. "Just wait until you get home from work tonight so we can talk."

"Okay," he replied. "You have the key."

"I'll see you then."

With that, she turned off her phone, and began to throw her clothes in a suitcase. She wasn't going to leave him a note. There was no way to explain. He'd get the picture when he found her things gone.

That would be the easiest for everyone.

* * * * *

"A tilted heaven
touches you above me
as you lean back into the sun
And your heart sounds like
it's praying
Please wait for me
I always get lost
but I would fall in the mud
I would waver back to God
if it earned you
protected you
If you stayed and maybe
after a while
I might finally feel at home
in love"
--Anonymous

She felt a wave of relief wash over her as she heard his key in the door. She sat up on the couch, but didn't make a move to turn on the light. Somehow she knew that she was best left in the dark.

He tossed his keys on the desk by the door and made no quick moves toward her. She looked at the clock across from her to see that it was after one o'clock in the morning. "Late night?" she said finally. "I was worried about you."

He sat in the armchair across from her, popping the tab on a soda he'd grabbed from the refrigerator. "Your husband came to see me," he said nonchalantly.

She cringed at the word. The word "husband" just didn't sound right to her. It never had, really.

"You didn't tell him you were leaving?" he asked impatiently.

She shook her head, pulling her knees to her chest. "What was I supposed to say, Pacey?"

"You think it's better to just pick up your things and walk out of his life without a word?" he asked.

"It won't hurt as badly as it would if he were to find out that we've been sleeping together all this time," she said. "That will kill him worse than me just leaving, trust me, Pacey."

"So why are you leaving?"

"I couldn't look him in the eye anymore without feeling like everything was a lie."

"What's a lie, Jo? You've loved him forever."

"He's security, Pacey," she whispered. "He's security and you're adventure. That's why I spent so long with both of you."

"Joey, you're not at the point in your life where you want to throw away all the security."

"The security hasn't made me happy. And even though you seem to piss me off more often than not . . . and you're going to hate me for saying this . . . you make me happy."

He stood up, laughing sardonically as he rubbed the back of his neck. He looked out the window for a moment, not sure what to say.

"You could at least say something," she said, finally breaking the silence.

"Clarify for me."

"Okay."

"Are you leaving Dawson for me?"

"No."

"So why are you doing this?" he asked.

"I don't want to live with Dawson anymore. I still care about him, but I . . . I don't want to hurt him. And I'm weak, Pacey. I can't stay away from you."

"So you're leaving Dawson because of Dawson?"

She nodded. "He's not the same thing to me that he used to be."

"And what am I?" he asked.

"I don't know. You're a part of me. And I . . . I know that you need me, Pacey. Just like you needed me last night," she said, standing up and taking a place behind him.

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm moving. I haven't decided where yet. Maybe somewhere tropical with warm days and lots of sun. I'm going to the airport in the morning."

He nodded.

"There's only one question left. It's simple."

"Okay," he said, turning around to face her.

"Do I buy one ticket or two?"

"You want me to go with you?" he asked. He was quite shocked.

"Yeah. I want you to come with me," she said.

"Why?"

"Because I need you, Pace. Come with me."

"You need me," he said softly. "I don't do anything for you but ruin your life, Joey."

"I'm the one who ruined my life," she said, looking down at her feet. "I'm the one who let myself get too close to you, to let myself fall for you. And I'm the one who wasn't strong enough to leave Dawson when I figured out that he wasn't want I wanted or what I needed anymore."

"And how are you so sure that I'm what you need?"

"I'm not," she said, shrugging. "That's why you coming with me is simply optional. I figure I'll survive with or without you. I'd still like to be with you."

He sat down, rubbing his face tiredly with his hands. "We have a problem."

She sat in the floor in front of him, resting on her heels. "What's that?"

"I fell in love with you."

She looked up at him, a mixture of confusion and anger in her eyes. "And that's a problem."

"I'm not good for you, Joey, and you know it. Just take a look at what's already happened. I've had you cheating on your boyfriend, on your fiancé, and even on your husband. And now you're leaving him. He's the one who's going to be able to take care of you, Jo."

"Dammit, Pacey, listen to yourself! You're talking like you don't have control over anything! Your life is going to be whatever you decide to make it. And I can take care of myself, Pacey. What I want is you. And you can give me that. Just take a minute, stop being such a bastard, and let yourself feel for once in your fucking life."

"Letting myself feel has never done anything but hurt me, Jo. I'll just ruin your life. I'll ruin you, and you'll resent me for it. If you don't resent me already."

"The first time we slept together, I wanted to be with you. And that's been the case every time since then. It was more than just trying to fill some insatiable lust, and you know it. I could never get enough of you. And it wasn't because you were a good lay. It was because I could feel you. I understood your soul, and when I looked into your eyes, I knew who you were. It was because of the way you'd kiss my fingertips or stroke the small of my back. It was you."

"And it didn't have anything to do with the fact that what we were doing was forbidden?"

"If that were the case, I wouldn't be here right now, Pacey," she spat. "You're just a coward."

"Maybe I am, Jo," he replied. "I think that no matter how this situation is resolved, all three of us are going to end up unhappy."

"Because that's how you want it, Pacey," she said, standing up and turning her back to him. "I'm leaving tomorrow."

"You're doing what you have to do. I understand," he said flatly.

"Will you miss me?"

"Yeah, I'm going to miss you. More than you know, I think."

"That doesn't mean very much to me," she shrugged, looking back at him over her shoulder. "You don't have to be without me."

He laughed. "You don't give up, do you?"

"I guess you give up enough for the both of us," she said. "Maybe I can't believe that this is over."

"Maybe I can't either," he said.

"I'm not going to tell you where I go," she said softly.

"How will I know you're okay?"

"You won't."

"So you're punishing me," he nodded. "I'm just trying to do what's best for you."

"And who the hell are you to know what's best for me?"

"I know me."

"I know you too, Pacey. At least part of you. You wouldn't hurt me. If I kept coming back after all this time, you should know that I can take whatever you dish out. Let's face it, you have been pretty nasty to me on occasion."

"I'm sorry about that," he said sincerely. "If things had been different, I think that we might've had a chance."

"Is that your lame attempt to make me feel better?" she asked skeptically.

"I am going to miss you. Even as messed up as it was, you were the only pure thing in my life."

"I'm going to miss you too, Pace. But maybe you're right. This is for the best."

"It is. You'll see," he said, pulling her in for an awkward hug and kissing the crown of her head. His fingers gently stroked the small of her back.

She looked up at him. "One more time?" she asked, her voice cracking slightly.

"Yeah, Jo," he said, smiling slightly. "Kiss me."

And she did.

* * * * *

The End