Chapter Text
Chapter One
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You twist my words to ease your mind.
Don’t stand there smiling at me.
Don’t thinks it’s me when it’s always you…
It's always you.
Give In, Sister Hazel
Pacey Witter hooted with glee as he turned over another clump of wet dirt and uncovered more of the slimy creatures he was after. He giggled when he thought of just how he planned to make use of this really fat one. “Look at this one, Dawson. He’s a really fat bugger.” Dawson and Pacey watched the night crawler bunch and stretch its dark, dirt covered body as it dangled from Pacey’s long grimy fingers.
“I think we have enough for fishing now, don’t you, Pace?” Dawson Leery asked his best friend. He looked in their bucket which was teeming with long squirming dark worms. “We’ve even got enough to maybe sell some.”
“Uh uh. I need extras.” Pacey said, his grin revealing mischievous intentions. Dawson dropped his shoulders and gave his pal a suspicious look.
“Why?”
“Just cuz,” Pacey said with a shrug.
“Pacey, you leave Joey alone,” Dawson said knowingly. “She’s my friend and I shouldn’t let you do mean things to her.”
“Awww, Dawson, she’s so fun to scare and then she gets so mad, and her face turns really red and sometimes I think her head might explode!” He laughed again scooping up another long crawler. “You’re my friend too, man.”
“I like Joey; she’s fun to watch movies with.”
“Funner than me?”
“You talk too much.”
“What!” Pacey asked in shock, standing to his feet, his four foot, seven inch frame leading Dawson’s by just over an inch. “Fine, then,” he said mockingly, grabbing up the bucket with the worms they’d gathered and striding to his bike. “I’m going fishing, why don’t you go to Joey’s house and play dress up.”
“Shut up, Pacey!”
“Better yet, if you love her so much, why don’t you just marry her?”
“TAKE THAT BACK!” Dawson yelled, hurling himself at Pacey and knocking him to the ground sending dirt and night crawlers flying every which way.
“The worms!” They hollered in unison and, completely forgetting their fight, rushed to gather up their booty before they all escaped. When they had finally gotten most of the worms back in their bucket they let out a sigh and sat side by side, covered head to toe in mud and dirt.
“I’m sorry.” Pacey said, trying to scrape some of the mud from his face but only making it worse with his mud-covered hands. Dawson wasn’t fairing any better.
“I’m sorry too. Let’s just go fishing before it gets too hot.”
“Ok,” Pacey said with a smile. They clamored up together, hurried to their bikes and proceeded to ride through town racing each other down the well-known streets, the familiar sound of old man Hammersmith hollering at them as they cut through his yard ringing in their ears.
~*~*~*~*~
They were half way up the Big Hill, on Old Creek Rd, enroute to their favorite fishing hole, when Dawson just couldn’t pedal anymore, so Pacey dismounted to walk with him. Some older boys flew down the hill past them calling out ‘Oompa Loompa’ to Dawson as they did. Pacey stopped to throw a couple of rocks in their direction, even though he was trying not to laugh. Dawson did kinda look like an Oompa Loompa with his hair that way. Still, no one was allowed to tease Dawson but him because he was his friend. Well, and Joey too, he supposed, since Dawson never got mad at her for anything.
They eventually made it to the top of the hill and jumped back on their bikes so they could jet down the other side. They giggled and laughed as the wind rushed past their flushed faces whipping through their hair and stinging their eyes. Pacey stood up on his pedals, shooting his arms into the air and hollering at the top of his lungs in a loud ‘Whoo Hooo’. Dawson laughed and yelled too, but didn’t release his handlebars. They let the bikes coast as far as they could before they finally had to pedal to keep up speed. They zoomed around one corner, than another through a large clump of trees, until they skidded to a stop at the water’s edge.
“Maybe, if we catch a couple of big ones, your dad will cook them for us,” Pacey said unlashing his self built fishing pole from the handle bars of his bike. Pacey had taken one of his dad’s old poles without a reel and spent days searching the junk yard until he found one that worked. He’d worked on it for weeks, and now it proudly wore his initials carved into the handle base. P. J. W. It was his and his alone.
“Maybe,” Dawson answered getting his shiny new fishing pole and following Pacey out onto the rickety old dock.
They baited their hooks, and cast their lines listening to the familiar plunk as each one broke the surface of the water, and sat in companionable silence as they waited for a bite. Pacey had informed Dawson of course, that good fishermen do not talk while they were fishing because it would scare all the fish away; at least that’s what his Pop had told him. Dawson said he didn’t know if he believed this or not but since Pacey’s dad was a really good fisherman, who fished in competitions and everything, it was probably a good idea to be quiet, just in case.
Of course the fishing didn’t hold their interest for long, and when Dawson got up to get more worms, Pacey just couldn’t resist the sight of his heels hanging off the edge of the dock and with just one finger to his leg he sent his friend plunging into the water. Dawson came up sputtering, pushing his long thick blonde hair back from his face to see Pacey clutching his belly and laughing.
He wasn’t laughing for long. Dawson pushed up out of the water, grabbed both of Pacey’s legs, and pulled him back into the creek with him. Soon there was underwater wrestling and an enormous splash fight, that had the dock, the shore, the trees, and their bikes soaked with water. When they had exhausted themselves, they climbed back up onto the dock, laughing as they laid out in the sun to dry.
They talked about school starting soon, and all the movies they had seen, and what they wanted to see. Talk soon turned to the great fort they were planning to build, and all the materials they would need, what it would look like and all the rules they’d have for they’re secret club that even Dawson agreed Joey couldn’t join. After all, she was still a girl.
Morning faded into afternoon and it was time for them to head home. They hadn’t caught any fish, but they didn’t really care. Every moment they spent together was like a special adventure they’d crafted themselves and today was no different.
~*~*~*~*~
They reached the top of the Big Hill again and looked down the side they had come up before. This was one of their favorite parts because from this side, the decent was longer and there was a corner at the bottom. They chuckled together as they climbed back on their bikes and started down, pedaling with all their might, until the speed exceeded their legs ability. Pacey decided to try a trick he’d seen the older kids doing and put his feet up on the handle bars and his hands behind his head as he and his bike flew down the hill.
He was feeling really proud, and free, like he was flying, the air whirling around him whipping open his shirt, and whistling through the crook of his arm.
He saw he was quickly approaching the bottom and moved to swing his legs back down to the pedals so he could turn the corner. It would have been an expertly executed maneuver if it hadn’t been for one thing; the loop in his shoelace wrapped around the handlebar.
It happened too fast for any sort of counter move, and Dawson watched helplessly as Pacey crashed into the hill in a tangle with his bike, then slid though the gravel and dirt before slamming into a large bolder, where he finally came to a stop.
“Pacey!” Dawson yelled slamming on his brakes and dismounting from the bicycle before it even came to a stop. He ran to his friend, worry etching his young brow, as he took in the sight of Pacey’s body, lying face down on the ground, twisted into an unnatural position. He tentatively reached out a small hand to touch his friend’s dirt and blood encrusted shoulder. “Pacey, are you ok?” he asked, his voice milky with the tears he was fighting to keep under control. He heard a groan as Pacey tried to push himself up off the ground and roll over, but his legs were still entangled with his bicycle. Dawson hurriedly untangled them, dragging away the mangled bike the best he could.
Pacey rolled over and laid himself out flat, biting his lip, desperately trying not to cry. He didn’t realize he already was. One side of his face was badly scraped, as well as his shoulder, elbows, hands and knees. When Dawson came to kneel beside him, he flung his arm over his face to hide his tears.
“Are you ok Pacey?” he asked in a shaky voice. “Did you break anything?”
Pacey shook his head no, but didn’t say anything.
“Your face is bleeding.” Dawson said.
He removed his arm and used his dirty hand to wipe his face wincing at the pain it caused, and looked at the blood on his fingertips.
“Your bike is really messed up.”
Pacey just sniffed, staring up at the sky. Pop was gonna be really mad.
~*~*~*~*~
The two boys trudged home slowly, Dawson walking beside Pacey, Pacey carrying his broken bike, blood running from his cheek and chin. Their heads were down and a cloud of melancholy had settled over them. Both knew that they were going to be late getting home, and while Dawson’s dad would understand, they knew Pacey’s father would be irate, not only about their being late, but also about the accident and the ruined bike.
Pacey’s bike was precious to him. His bicycle was a source of freedom that he valued highly in his life. His father had refused to buy him one, giving him his sister Gretchen’s old bike instead. Luckily, it was a boy’s bike, since they had sturdier frames and John had insisted. It was purple, but Pacey had never minded that. The last year though, he had begun to outgrow it, but he had adapted, knowing it was unlikely he would be getting a new one anytime soon.
That wasn’t about to change because of the accident, and he knew it. If anything, his father would just use this incident as further proof as to what a screw up his youngest son was, and why it was a complete waste to spend any amount of money on him.
The two boys had just reached the outskirts of town when darkness began to fall. They knew they’d missed dinner. They knew by now that their families were beginning to wonder, for though they were often late, they rarely missed a meal if given a choice. Pacey was still fighting back tears, angry, in pain, and afraid of what he had to look forward to. Dawson walked beside him looking sullen, as Pacey’s limp became noticeably worse, his forehead etched with a deep frown. He winced with every move he made.
A blip of siren caught their attention and they turned to see a dark blue police cruiser pulling up beside them. The window rolled down to reveal Pacey’s brother, who was older than Pacey by close to ten years. Occasionally, their father let him use the cruiser. Doug slid down his completely unnecessary sunglasses; they made him feel like a real cop; and peered at them.
“You two losers were due home a couple of hours ago.”
“We had an accident.” Dawson responded.
“You had an accident?” he asked skeptically, “Looks more like my little bro is the one who had the accident. What did you do?”
“Nuthin,” Pacey said, swiping away the blood from his chin.
“Well, are you alright?” Doug asked, a small sliver of concern showing through in his voice.
“I’ll live,” Pacey said sullenly. “I totaled my bike.”
“I can see that. That’s just great, Pace! Pop’s gonna have a hay day with that.”
“Thanks, like I didn’t know that already.” Pacey snapped back caustically.
“Just get in the car,” Doug said. Pacey simply glowered at his brother through the diminishing light. His bike was hefted on his aching shoulder, his ankle felt like someone was stabbing him every time he put weight on it, and all he really wanted to do was cry. He couldn’t do that in front of Doug.
“Here.” His brother said finally climbing out to help them. He took the bike from his sibling, his eyes really surveying the damage to his body for the first time; he frowned for a moment but hid what could have been construed as concern with a caustic comment as he placed both bikes in the trunk of the cruiser. “Jeez, Pace, what did you do get up close and personal with a big tree.”
“Actually, it was a mountain side, then the road, and then a really big boulder. It was like something out of a movie. I was really scared.” Dawson informed. “Hey can I ride in the back like a real perp?” he asked, his excitement about riding in the police car filling his voice. Pacey rolled his eyes at Dawson’s eager request.
~*~*~*~*~
Six months later…
Pacey trudged through the snow, his nose cold and his lips growing more and more numb. He had his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat and his collar turned up to deflect some of the cold wind. He rounded the corner of Dawson’s house, relieved at finally being so close to the warmth he knew awaited him inside. As had become his habit since his accident that summer, he once again lamented the loss of his bike. Even though it would’ve been a difficult ride with the ice and the snow, at least it would’ve taken less time then walking.
He’d spent the day before shoveling snow, cleaning up the basement, and helping his mother dispose of the Christmas decorations. For dinner, they’d had roast beef, his dad’s favorite, and for dessert, they had birthday cake. It had said ‘Happy Birthday’ but there hadn’t been any candles for him to blow out.
He thumped up the steps to the familiar screen door and pulled it open, feeling an immediate relief from the cold as he stepped onto the front porch and the wind was no longer whipping about his ears. He couldn’t help but smile, knowing he was about to see his best friend and that Dawson would make sure they had fun because of his birthday and it would make up for the way it had been treated by his family.
He opened the door and walked on in, hearing the faint sound of giggling before Dawson and Joey jumped out from the living room laughing and singing a silly version of “Happy Birthday”. Dawson was singing “Happy Birthday to Pacey,” but Joey was singing “You look like a dog and you smell like one, too”
They ended it with the long ending; “Frankenstein on channel nine, Scooby Doo on channel two. . .” before dancing around him.
“And a pinch to go an inch. . .”
“And a sock to grow a block.”
“OW!” he rubbed his arm where Joey had socked him. She ignored him and used her fingers to make his lips turn up in a smile.
“And a smile to grow a mile.”
“Maybe you guys should skip that one. He’s already growing like a weed.” Mr. Leery said coming into the entryway smiling, followed by his wife.
“Happy day late birthday, Sweetie,” she said giving him a quick hug and he couldn’t help but grin.
“Thanks.”
“C’mon! We made you a cake.”
“Did Joey help? Cuz if she did, I don’t know if I want to eat it.”
“Hey.”
“Mom helped us, it’s edible.”
“I dunno. She hates me.”
“My mom?” Dawson asked.
“You’re right to be afraid, Butthead, I put cyanide in the frosting. It’s my secret ingredient,” Joey said primly, and she strode passed them.
“I wouldn’t put it past you,” he responded, “You are evil.”
“Just stop it you guys and come,” Dawson grabbed Pacey’s hand and pulled with each word, “In. To. The. Kitchen.”
“Alright, alright just let me keep my arm.” Pacey said, laughing at his friend’s excitement. His laughter came to a stop, and his mouth fell open when he saw what was waiting for him there.
“Surprise!” Dawson yelled, opening his arms wide as he displayed his gift.
~*~*~*~*~
August 2003
Pacey awoke with a smile still lingering on his sleepy face, a remnant of his dream. Slowly but surely, reality set in. Unfortunately.
The cloying scent of Kristy’s heavy floral perfume filled his nostrils and his eyes snapped open, only to snap right back shut as he grimaced and turned his head. God, how had he managed even to be near her last night with that smell? The thought that she’d probably gotten up in the middle of the night to put more on, made him shake his head. God forbid she should smell anything like the activities she’d partaken of last night.
The next thing he noticed, as his senses awakened, was her weight on his left side. She always insisted on the left side, lying on his dominant hand, and his watch. Damn, he wanted to know what time it was.
He lifted his head off the pillow as far as he could, in an attempt to see over her blonde head, and see the alarm clock on the night stand. No such luck. He let his head fall back to the pillow.
He couldn’t suppress the small, exasperated growl that wanted to escape, but the sound didn’t phase his bedmate. She slept like the dead, and it was a good thing, because as much as he wanted her off of him, he really didn’t want to deal with her this morning. He just wanted to get out of there, get home, (or rather, his current squatting residence) take a shower and get to the restaurant. Thank God, he hadn’t been scheduled this morning at the market, or he’d be in trouble right now, he was sure. He tugged his arm a few times and Kristy rolled over onto her pillow with a soft feminine sigh. Ah, sweet freedom.
He rolled the opposite way, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and used the corner of the sheet to wipe her drool off his chest before standing. He interlaced his fingers and stretched his arms overhead, feeling the muscles elongate and then contract over his stomach and back, the golden sunshine that entered through the bedroom windows behind him, warming his naked flesh. He scratched his stomach absently as he searched the bare hardwood floor for his boxers.
After finding and pulling on that article of clothing, he shuffled to the attached bathroom with matching décor. The pink seashells matched the pink accent pillows scattered over the bed. The white, old fashioned looking shelves matched the white eyelet comforter. And the plush pink carpet just continued right on in. Who in their right mind would put carpet in a bathroom?
He splashed his face with cold water and looked up at the reflection of his dripping face in the mirror. What was he doing here?
Well, he knew technically, what he was doing there, he thought, as he left the bathroom and stealthily began searching for the remainder of his clothes, pulling on each item as he found it.
After all, she had been a fantasy of his since he was 13. When she had given him her number, he had felt sure that it meant things were turning around for him. That finally the things that he had wanted were possible. But after three plus months, he was beginning to think that the actuality of Kristy did not live up to the idea of Kristy.
Once dressed, he scrawled a quick note saying he’d see her later, and quietly slipped out the front door. Ambling down the hallway of her building, he took in his surroundings once again amazed that this plush condominium with it’s cream colored walls and crimson carpet stood almost exactly where his and Dawson’s childhood fort used to reside. Things had changed.
He made his way across town in the direction of his brother’s apartment so he could shower and get ready for work. He needed to get a head start since he was meeting Dawson for lunch, or more accurately brunch, before work. He was almost finished with his movie and Pacey was wondering how things were coming along. Aside from that, he was looking forward to putting the bad blood behind them and rebuilding their friendship.
Despite Dawson’s more annoying and occasionally hurtful qualities, Pacey still remembered the young boy who would go out of his way to make him smile on a bad day. The young man he’d analyzed endless movies with at the video store. The same one who smuggled the new Penthouse to him when he’d had a really bad case of the flu. He was a dork. He was oblivious, self-absorbed and often self-centered, but when he wasn’t, he was an amazing friend. Pacey found himself smiling at that logic as he hopped up the stairs and opened the door to Doug’s apartment. He found his brother just emerging, freshly shaven, from the bathroom.
“Well, there’s the prodigal little brother, just in time to cook me breakfast.”
“Sorry, Dougie, I can’t today. I’m meeting Dawson at ten, and then I have to work, so I gotta get ready. I’m gonna take a shower.”
“Why don’t you shower at your girlfriend’s place?”
“My shampoo is here.” he said off handedly, “Besides that woman has entirely too much fondness for pink. That can’t be healthy.”
Doug laughed, “I agree with you there.” He finished buttoning his uniform shirt. “I’ll just stop off for doughnuts then.”
“You better watch it Doug, if you’re not careful you might lose that manly physique.” Pacey called from the bathroom.
“As if you have room to talk,” Doug spouted back.
~*~*~*~*~
Pacey entered the door of Leery’s Fresh Fish at precisely 10 o’clock, dressed in his denim western style shirt and the gray pants of his chef uniform. He scanned the familiar interior for his friend’s blonde head, and smiled despite himself when he spotted it. He sauntered over giving him a friendly eyebrow raise when he caught his attention.
“Hey, D, how’s it going?”
“Hey, Pacey. Good. You?”
“Eh, I’m getting by. How are things on the movie set? Audrey driving you crazy yet?”
Dawson gave a small laugh, “No, but close. I’ve filmed almost the entire thing except the kissing. She wants me to get Patrick’s parents’ permission,” he said grinning. “Says she doesn’t need any more scandal.” Pacey just laughed at that. “Personally, I think she just likes to make things difficult.”
“That would be Audrey,” Pacey replied. “So, you’re almost done?”
“Yep, just a few scenes left.”
“That one shot, with the crane?” he gestured with his hands, “I can’t wait to see that on film, it’s gonna look great. That was a kick ass idea.”
“Thanks. And it does look great thanks to you. I can’t believe you talked that guy into doing it, let alone for free. You really could sell ice to Eskimos,” Dawson said, and Pacey just shrugged. “But I guess that’s pretty much what you’ve been doing for that last year isn’t it.” Dawson couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth. The very thought of money brought his mind back to that place. How could Pacey have been so reckless?
Across the table, Pacey went cold. “What?”
“Well, you called people up and convinced them to buy something they not only didn’t need, but also proved to be completely insubstantial as well.”
“Dawson, I already told you, I was just as taken in by those guys as anybody else. It wasn’t intentional.”
“Because you were so completely focused on being the big shot. You just had to sell your soul so you could rake in the cash.”
“God, are we really going down this road again? Damn it, Dawson, I thought we were past this!”
“I just want to know when you are going to give up the pretense and just be yourself.”
“And who exactly would that be, Dawson? Because, I don’t think you know. I don’t think you ever knew! To you I was just that guy down the creek you hung around with. I helped keep the bullies off you and I made you look better, because I was the screw up and you were the golden boy and whenever you felt bad about your life you could always hold it up to that measure.” He stood and spread out his arms. “Well, I’m glad to have been of service, but I’m done with this.” He tossed his napkin onto the table, “Have a nice life, I’m outta here.” He moved from the table as if to leave but stopped before he’d gone more than a step.
He was still looking away, across the restaurant when he began to speak, his voice soft and low. “Look, Dawson, I still remember that kid I was friends with in school. The guy who’d drag me to see the same movie three times, who reminded me that I wasn’t alone when my family would forget I existed. The same guy who would attack me whenever what I thought didn’t agree with his ideal. He was my best friend, faults and all. He was my brother. I know why I want him as my friend.” He let out a breath; half hopeless laugh, “God, despite everything that has happened since we started high school, and . . . there have been some pretty nasty things said between the two of us; I wanted, hell, I don’t know what I wanted, but whatever it was, I don’t want it any more. It’s obvious to me now that it was never that way for you. You have no idea why you were or why you’d even want to be my friend.” He walked away then, leaving Dawson behind looking stunned.
~*~*~*~*~
Pacey all but stormed in to the employee lounge of Bonne Belle, glowering straight ahead, and not acknowledging a single greeting from his fellow employees. They grumbled as he passed them, but he didn’t care. He yanked off his shirt without bothering to unbutton it, jerked open the door to his locker, and unceremoniously threw the wadded article inside. He was trying unsuccessfully to take his chef jacket off its hanger when he finally decided he needed to end his temper tantrum and took a slow deep cleansing breath.
Damn.
He finally, slowly and with now steady fingers, pulled his chef jacket out and slipped his arms into the sleeves with a sigh. He was still angry, but as he began to relax, he realized he was more disappointed than anything else. He was hurt actually, more than he wanted to think or admit. He had really hoped they could pull this off. That they could put the past behind them, and build a new friendship based on the good of the old but not holding on to the ghosts of the past. Sure, they’d probably never be best friends again, but friends? Hell. Maybe they’d never even been friends at all.
But they had. He was sure of that. They had been friends. They’d fought, teased and competed, but they’d also supported and encouraged. So why couldn’t Dawson remember that? Why did he only choose to remember the bad? Pacey shook his head once to himself before pulling down his cap, securing it on his head and checking himself in the mirror.
None of it mattered now, it was over, and he had to work.