The snow's coming down
I'm watching it fall
Lots of people around
Baby, please come home...

Snow was lightly dusting the grass in Capeside. Pacey watched it from the large picture window in the living room. He sat on the wide ledge where his mother would soon be setting up the tiny, glowing town.

"Looks like we're going to have a white Christmas," Pacey commented, turning to his father.

"That's the rumor," was Mr. Witter's reply. "What do you want, by the way?"

Pacey let his long legs dangle over the edge, the tips of his toes barely touching the floor. It made him feel like a little kid. "That was sneaky. The way you just slid it in there."

"If I don't ask you I won't know."

"You usually don't get me anything, that's all." His father frowned and got up from his easy chair.

He sat down on the ledge next to his son. His feet didn't reach the floor, like Pacey's. "I'm sorry about that."

"I know."

There didn't seem to be anything else to say. Mr. Witter placed his arm gently around Pacey's shoulders and laughed. "When did you get bigger than me? It's not fair."

Pacey grinned. "I think I've been bigger than you since I was a fetus."

Mr. Witter punched him playfully. "Seriously now. What do you want for Christmas?"

"There's really only one thing I want. But it's not something you can go out and buy at the store."

"Don't tell me I'll have to go on that online thing. You know I don't know how to use the computer."

"No, no, it's not anything like that." Pacey looked down at the floor. "I just want Mr. Bristol in jail. Forever," he whispered.

This was a conversation they'd had many times over the past few weeks, each time coming to the same conclusion. It was out of their hands. The last few times, however, Pacey didn't get upset. He didn't cry or scream or throw any sort of fit. He had gotten better.

"You know I can't do anything. And the trial won't be until at least February, Pace."

"But what if the world explodes?"

His father stared at him incredulously. Pacey had a goofy smile on his face. "What?!"

"The year 2000, Dad. Get with it. It may be the end of the world."

"Very funny." Pacey laughed at his father's nervous expression. "You're such a brat. The end of the world."

The phone rang. "Can you get that, Dad?"

"Yes, your highness."

"And a soda while you're at it!"

"In your dreams." He picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Hi, this is Dawson. Is Pacey there?"

"Hold on." Cradling the phone on his shoulder, he stuck his head through the kitchen door frame. "Pacey, it's Dawson."

It had been weeks since he'd spoken to Dawson. He had been ignoring him for as long as could. But like the good friend that he was, Dawson didn't give up. He called every other day, annoying Pacey to know end, but making him feel better all the same. It was nice to know that someone cared besides his family.

"Do you want to talk to him or not?"

"Yeah, I'll take it upstairs."

"Okay. Dawson, he'll pick it up in a second." He heard the click and promptly hung up. It was about time they talked to each other.

Pacey made himself comfortable on his bed and held the phone between his shoulder and his ear. "Hey, Dawson."

"Wow, I can't believe you actually said yes."

"I can hang up if you want."

"No, no! I'm sorry."

"I was kidding."

"Oh, right. So, uh, how are you? Do anything on vacation so far?"

"We've been out of school for two days. Of course not." Dawson laughed nervously on the other end. "Lighten up, D, I'm just joking."

"Okay."

"Let's start over. Hello, Dawson."

"Hello, Pacey. How are you?"

"I'm doing quite well, thank you. And yourself?"

"Not so good."

"Why?"

"I miss my best friend."

The simple sentence made Pacey choke up slightly. A lump formed in his throat and he felt a rush of regret for being so mean to Dawson.

"I'm really sorry, Dawson. It was a really rough time for me."

"I understand, Pacey. I just want to be friends again. I want us to hang out and goof around. You have no idea how important you are to me. Half the times I called you were just to make sure you were still alive."

A few tears escaped, but Pacey wiped them away quickly. "I miss you, too."

"Then why don't we get together? I can come over if you're not busy."

"Sure. That sounds great." Pacey realized how thick his voice sounded and hoped Dawson didn't notice.

"Pacey, are you crying?"

"I'm just so sorry."

"Don't be. It's in the past, okay?"

"Okay," was all Pacey could choke out.

"I'll be over in a few."

"Bye." He heard Dawson hang up and he gently placed the phone back on the receiver.

The church bells in town
Are ringing us home
What a happy sound
Baby, please come home...

They're singing Deck The Halls
But it's not like Christmas at all
'Cause I remember when you were here
It always brought me endless cheer...

Pretty lights on the tree
I'm watching them shine
You should be here with me
Baby, please come home!

Pacey waited patiently in the living room, listening to the Christmas CD his mother had put on. It was remastered from 1963, but Pacey didn't care. Christmas music was always so cheerful.

The particular song, Pacey's favorite, seemed quite ironic. He was about to be reunited with his very best friend and Christmas (Baby Please Come Home) was on. It made him laugh.

His father came in carrying heavy boxes from the basement. "Please don't get up," he mumbled in a strained voice.

"Here, let me help." Pacey took one end of the box and the load was lightened considerably. "What's in here? Christmas rocks?"

"Feels like it. No, it's ornaments and decorations. And that damned light-up town."

They put it down near the bare tree. "Are there any more?"

"Doug and I managed to get everything into this box last year, so no. Thank god."

"Nice to know everyone's in the Christmas spirit." The doorbell rang. "I'll get it!" he cried and ran towards the door.

"Nice to know you're not immature anymore."

"Hey, Dawson!" Dawson looked completely dumbfounded. Pacey pulled him inside and gave him a bear hug. "I'm sorry I've been such an ass," he explained when he let go.

"No problem." Dawson eyed him strangely. "Did they put you on Prozac or something?"

"Nope, I'm high on life, my friend. Come on in, sit down."

They're singing Deck The Halls
But it's not like Christmas at all
'Cause I remember when you were here
It always brought me endless cheer...

"Great song," Dawson commented.

"Yeah, I love it."

"My favorite's White Christmas."

"That's 'cause you're old-fashioned."

"Pacey, you're listening to, I assume, something that was recorded in the 1970s. That's not exactly contemporary."

"It's the '60s, but that's not important. Okay, you're classic then. Everyone loves White Christmas."

"So? It's a great song."

"I agree, but couldn't you pick something like Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer?"

"That's pretty popular, too."

"How about Percy The Puny Pointsetta?"

"That's a song?!"

"You haven't heard it?! I had a record when I was a kid with that song. It's so funny. It's about this pointsetta that nobody buys."

"Maybe they should have called it Pacey The Puny Pointsetta."

"Maybe..."

Dawson threw a pillow at Pacey. Pacey threw one back. Then they started hitting each other with them. After a few minutes of uncontrollable laughter, their faces were beet red, their hair a mess and both happier than they'd been in a long time.

"Okay, I give up," Pacey said breathlessly. He slumped onto the couch, Dawson right next to him.

"I knew you would." They just sat silently, calming their breathing for a few minutes. "I can't believe you owned a record."

"Not everybody's Mommy was a TV anchor. We couldn't afford cassettes."

"That's such crap," Dawson said, laughing. "What now?"

"I don't know." Mrs. Witter decided to walk in and immediately took notice to Dawson.

"Dawson, long time no see! How are you?"

"Fine, Mrs. Witter. And yourself?"

"Wonderful, just getting ready for Christmas. Pacey's sisters are flying in for the holiday." She bent down in front of the box Pacey and his father had brought upstairs. "You two want to help me put these up?"

Pacey laughed. "Isn't this cliched? Two reunited friends trimming the tree and decorating the house."

Mrs. Witter snatched an ornament out of Pacey's hand. "Don't you dare touch that tree. We're doing that on Christmas Eve."

"Sorry, Mother. I wasn't aware," he said sarcastically. "Then what do you want us to do?"

"The hard stuff. Lights outside, for one thing. I want them on the porch rails this time. Don't just throw them on the bushes."

"That was Doug's idea."

If there was a way...
I'd hold back this fear
But it's Christmas day

Please
Please!
Please
Please!
Please
Please!
Please
Please!

Baby, please come home...

Baby, please come home...

Pacey sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the Christmas tree. His sisters were home and his family had decorated the tree together. It looked fantastic.

Doug took a seat on the ottoman next to Pacey. "We did a good job this year, didn't we?"

"Yeah," Pacey whispered. Doug laughed at him. "What?"

"You're just like a little kid."

"What's wrong with acting like a kid on Christmas?"

"Nothing, forget it."

"Then stop smiling." Doug just grinned wider. "Jerk."

"You should talk," he said as he slid to the floor. "Dad told me you talked to Dawson today. What's the occasion?"

"There is no occasion. I should have done it a long time ago."

"I could have told you that."

"Why didn't you?"

Doug sighed. "You wouldn't have listened. And I didn't want to upset you."

"I'm not made of glass you know."

"Yeah, I know. But you were acting like a little kid, like you were a minute ago. Nobody could tell you anything or you'd flip out."

Pacey crossed his arms across his chest. "I did not."

"Sure you did. That day when the principal sent you home, you screamed at anyone who tried to come into your room. You scared the living daylights out of Mom and Dad. They thought you went nuts."

Normally this type of honesty would have made Pacey cry. But he had toughened up quite bit after seeing a therapist. "I think I did go nuts, Doug. I mean, I really think I was crazy."

"You were just stressed out, Pace."

"Then why was I seeing things? And hearing things? I know for a fact you were there when I imagined Mr. Bristol was on the phone. You can't blame something like that on stress."

"Why can't you? All that's happened, Pacey, you have to blame it on something simple like that. You didn't just snap. There were a lot of factors involved."

Pacey didn't reply. He didn't want to talk about it anymore, and that was written all over his face. Doug could tell and decided it would better to just drop it then try to push him. It was too soon.

Without saying anything, Pacey left the room. He wandered into the kitchen where his mother and sisters were all sitting around the table. He pulled out a chair and sat down.

"Hi, honey. You want anything to eat?" Pacey shook his head. What he wanted was for his whole family to stop treating him like a baby. It was always, Honey this or Sweetheart that. Even Doug was starting to act like he was a child.

His oldest sister, Melanie, went back to talking about her fiance and what a hunk he was. Teresa tried to divert the attention to herself by talking about her husband and five-year-old daughter. Elena just sat there, taking it all in, trying not to laugh. She looked over at Pacey and motioned with her head towards the dining room. He nodded and they both got up.

"So how you feeling, little brother?"

"I'm sick of everyone asking me how I'm feeling."

"Oh, sorry. I hope you feel like crap then."

"I didn't mean it like that," he protested.

"I know, I was only joking. You're such a jester yourself, I thought you'd get it when someone else was kidding around."

"Normally I would. But I seem to have lost my radar, momentarily at least."

"You'll get it back. You've just got to relax a little."

"It's very hard to relax when everyone acts like you're about to fall apart at any given second."

"Well, you gave everyone quite a reason to be nervous about that, Pace."

He looked down at his folded hands. "I know I did."

"The you have to understand where they're coming from. Christ, Pacey, you tried to kill yourself. And you almost succeeded."

"I don't want to talk about this."

"You've got to talk about it sometime. You can't just keep running away from all your problems."

"Elena, you have no idea what you're talking about. It's just too hard."

"What are you going to do then? Just hold it inside until you explode? Let me tell you a little secret. That never works out."

"Forget it, you don't understand at all."

"No one understands, Pacey. You're the only one that was there, that it happened to. I can only suggest you talk about it with someone you love, it will make it easier."

She stood up and pushed in her chair.

"Wait, I'm sorry."

"You're talking to the wrong person, Pacey. I think you know who I meant."

Like it? Hate it? Think I'm a sicko? Feedback at [email protected]

Part 8

Part 10

Back to Fanfic

Home