It started off so well
They said we made a perfect pair
I clothed myself in your glory and your love
How I loved you
How I cried...


Each night I cry I still believe the lie
I love you till I die
Save me save me save me
Don't let me face my life alone
Save me save me ooh...
I'm naked and I'm far from home

The feeling of utter and complete self-loathing hadn't diminished. Late night talks and Ben and Jerry's ice cream couldn't fix everything. The waves of distaste and hatred for one's own self did not just float away like other emotions. They stayed for a long time and left scars.

Pacey thought hard about what a person's soul might look like. Did love, anger, hatred, sadness and other feelings get burned into the skin like some kind of tattoo? Were they permanent marks that would never be erased? Did some almighty being take this second skin off of a person and hang it out to dry to be examined?

If something like that did happen, Pacey thought his soul would look so black and broken, that whatever creature judged him after his final breath of life would take such enormous pity on him. That being would gently lift what was left of him and place it in a giant heap of other lost souls. Some pile of black and gray to be mourned. Maybe all the people's souls floating around would pass his own and cry.

A smile, though grim, passed across his face at that. He knew he was being ridiculous. He barely believed in an afterlife, let alone something so pure and innocent and caring. No human was like that and he couldn't imagine something of another world being as compassionate either.

Why are you thinking about this stuff? he asked himself. He had to admit that his thoughts had been unusually dark lately. Whenever someone gave him a sideward glance, he immediately felt insecure and angry. Of all the arrogant things to feel. Who would waste their time thinking about him?

Pacey slapped his forehead. "Stop it," he growled. Leaning on his forearm, he turned the digital clock in Doug's living room to face him. The red 1:28 glared back at him. "I need sleep," he whispered.

The blanket he had loosely thrown over himself fell to the floor easily. He stood up and stretched before heading into the kitchen. There had to be some sort of herbal tea in some cabinet in this place. Pacey never bothered to try and remember where anything was. There was always that voice in the back of his head that told him he wouldn't be staying much longer.

"What are you looking for?" Doug asked in a sleepy voice. He was standing at the doorway to the kitchen. Judging by his face, Pacey could tell he had been sleeping soundly and was annoyed at having been woken up.

"You mean right now?"

"Of course."

"Tea."

"Second cabinet on your right, top left corner." Pacey found a box of Chamomile in that exact spot. "The pot is underneath, no, to your right." Pacey pulled it out. "I'm hoping you know where the oven and the sink are."

"I think I can find them."

"Good, g'night."

"Night." Doug's light went off a few seconds after he had left the room. Pacey fixed himself a cup of tea. He drank it and fell asleep at the kitchen table.

The years of care and loyalty
Were nothing but a sham it seems
The years belie we lived a lie
I love you till I die

The next morning Pacey could barely move. His neck was stiff, his back hurt, and he was still absolutely exhausted. He moaned and tried to stretch.

"Oh, ow."

"Ah, Sleeping Beauty awakes. I tried to move you, but you're pretty heavy."

"I can't even move me," Pacey groaned.

"Suck it up," Doug grunted, trying not to laugh. "You can go in late if you want, but do not stay home. You have a big test today. I did not waste my whole weekend quizzing you for nothing."

"Ever heard of make-ups?"

"Always harder. Come on, get up." Doug grabbed Pacey by the upper arms and pulled him out of his chair. "Go take a nice, hot shower and you'll be good to go."

"Please, Doug, let me stay home," he pleaded. "I really feel awful."

"What hurts? Your head?"

"No."

"Your stomach?"

"No."

"Then what?"

"I'm just sort of achy all over."

Doug smiled and nodded. "Achy, good word. Just vague enough to apply to almost anything."

"And I feel, well, off. You know?"

"Achy and off. Two excellent words."

"I'm serious."

"You're late. Get moving."

"Oh, fine," Pacey grumbled. Fifteen minutes later he had showered, dressed and was ready to leave.

"Doug, I'm ready." There was no answer. "Doug?" A white piece of paper was sitting on the kitchen table. In Doug's neat cursive it read, "A walk will do you good."

"Son of a bitch."

Save me save me save me
I can't face this life alone
Save me save me save me...
I'm naked and I'm far from home

"I don't know," Dawson said honestly. "He's been acting so distant."

"So go talk to him," Joey suggested. "I've noticed it, too. He doesn't look at anybody or talk to anybody." She shook her head. "And he's so skinny."

"I'm going to go over there," Dawson decided. "See you later."

"Good luck."

Classes seemed to melt into one another and before Pacey knew it, lunch was in full swing. Who shall I sit with? he thought. Not Andie, not Jack, not Jen, not Dawson, not Joey. Well, that pretty much takes care of everyone.

Rolling his eyes, Pacey settled into an empty table. A few minutes later, Dawson put his tray down.

"Hey, Pace. Mind if I sit here?" he asked.

Oh, god, it's attack of the killer jerk, Pacey thought. No, Dawson, you may not sit here. I don't like you and I don't want to look at your face.

"Sure, pull up a chair."

And be sure to stick one of the legs up your ass. Maybe the whole chair if you can fit it.

"Thanks."

No, thank you. Thanks for ruining what could have been a completely enjoyable lunch.

"How are things?"

They suck. How about you? Has Joey come crawling back again yet? Did she ask if she could just suck your dick this time? Like she hasn't in her mind already.

"Boring. You?"

"Same."

Yeah, right. I bet you and Joey had a great night making fun of me behind my back. Both of you secretly feel guilty and you know it. Guess what, bud, I don't need your pity or hers. Please just leave me alone.

"How was Movie Night?"

Yeah, try and answer that one, Hot Shot. Hit me with your best shot.

"Fine. Joey and I mostly talked. It was nice to get back into that groove. I've really missed that."

Oh, I bet that's what you missed. Are you certain it wasn't lying in bed next to that exquisite figure, with a great view of those perfect breasts? Are you sure you didn't just loving smelling her and holding her hand during the sad parts or the scary parts?

"That's nice. Be sure to alert the local news. We've all been holding our breath over here."

Yeah, it hasn't worked. I'm still here, miserable.

"I'm about to. God, Pace, I've missed her so much."

You said that already. Shouldn't a great director know that it's annoying to repeat lines over and over again?

"I gathered that. I think she missed you, too."

Her panties have been in a twist ever since you rejected that gorgeous bod. Don't think she hasn't spent her nights dreaming about the day when you would deflower her in the most romantic of settings. Don't be so naive. Don't be so Dawson.

"Pacey, are you okay? You seem a little upset lately."

No, I am not okay. I can't sleep. I can't eat. I can't think. I can't cry. I can't stop hating you. I can't stop hating myself. Please, please, please help me.

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine. Just really tired. Doug's couch is not very comfortable."

Damn straight it's not. Your floor was more comfortable. Invite me over, Dawson, please. Help me. I'm dying here. I feel so sick. I'm not me anymore.

"That sucks."

Very helpful. I wouldn't have known.

"I know."

"Is your sister ever going to move out?"

Ha, and give up the free food, free bed, and free rent zone? No way. She is never leaving. And I bet they're overjoyed. They don't want me there. My Dad does not love me. My Mom doesn't either. Not like you even care.

"Honestly, I have no clue. From what Doug says she's driving them nuts, but they're happy she's home instead of on the street."

"Wow, too bad. I wish I had more to offer you than my bedroom floor. But Joey's started using that again anyway."

Bull. Complete and utter bull. She's up there with you on the bed, you liar. Don't lie to me, not now. Oh, god, not now.

The lunch bell rang.

"Oh, man, look, I didn't even get to eat," Dawson whined. "Why is lunch so short?"

"Just another way to torture the prisoners."

"Bastards," Dawson mumbled. "Oh, well. See you later, Pace."

Not if I can possibly avoid that. Don't get me wrong kid, you're all right, but you're not much help to a dying man.

"See ya."

Pacey stood, sufficiently flustered, and headed in the direction of the bathroom. He sat in one of the stalls for a while, thinking. He was disturbed beyond belief. He'd never had such malicious or angry thoughts towards Dawson.

He got up and immediately felt dizzy. His hand found the toilet paper dispenser and he clutched it for dear life. Suddenly his head was throbbing, he felt hot, and his stomach was churning.

"Oh, god," he moaned, bending over slightly, clutching his stomach. "Don't throw up, don't throw up."

Shadows appeared under the stall door. "Who's in there? Are you all right?"

"No," Pacey moaned. A spasm through his stomach made him shiver. He coughed and gagged.

"Open the door."

"Can't do that," he mumbled. He gagged again and let a mouthful of bile spill into the toilet. They kept coming. Then the dry heaves started. He barely heard Principal Green leave.

"Who's in there?" he heard an out-of-breath voice ask. The nurse.

"I don't know, I can't tell."

Pacey tried to say his own name but couldn't. He couldn't stop coughing.

"We have to open the door," she said reasonably. "Isn't there some way?"

"I'll try." Pacey could hear his principal fumbling with the lock. "I can't get it."

Pacey stopped coughing. He turned around and, with slick hands, opened the door.

"Pacey," Principal Green recognized him immediately, "are you okay?"

"No," Pacey replied weakly. His face was a whitish gray and he was still hunched over. "I don't feel good."

"Come to my office, Pacey, you can lie down and I'll call your parents," the nurse said soothingly. She put her hand on his lower back and gently guided him out of the bathroom. The hall was empty as was the nurse's office.

"I can take it from here, Mr. Green."

"Thank you." He turned to face Pacey. "I'll let your teacher know where you are. What class do you have?"

"Chemistry. Room 305."

"Okay, I'll find out what homework you need to do as well. Go home and get some rest." The nurse sounded like she was talking to his sister.

Pacey smiled. "Thanks."

"Hold on, Principal Green, we have a problem. Neither of Pacey's parents are home and his sister doesn't have a car."

"My Dad is at work and so is my brother. I'm living with him."

"I'll give Pacey a ride to his parents' house."

"You don't have to..."

"Get your things and let's go." He smiled. "I'm sure this is the last place you want to be right now."

The slate will soon be clean
I'll erase the memories
To start again with somebody new
Was it all wasted
All that love?...

I hang my head and I advertise
A soul for sale or rent
I have no heart I'm cold inside
I have no real intent

Save me save me save me
I can't face this life alone
Save me save me save me...
I'm naked and I'm far from home

"Where should I go?" Pacey asked his sister. She looked unusually pale and very tired. Kids must be keeping her up, he thought.

"Your room's empty," she replied. "Please don't throw up anywhere, I don't want to clean it up."

"You're too sweet." The truth was he felt fine. His throat hurt a little, but the headache and the dizziness were gone. It was replaced with exhaustion.

His bedroom seemed foreign. Everything was the same, but it had been so long since he'd seen it, let alone slept in it. He peeled off his clothes until he was in nothing but his boxers and collapsed into bed.

Sleep came instantly. His mother came home an hour later. She let Pacey sleep for three more. Dawson called twice. Finally, she concluded that he should eat something and try to do some homework.

"Pacey," she whispered from his doorway. Nothing, he didn't even stir. "Pacey, honey, wake up." She was closer this time. She daintily stepped over his jeans and his T-shirt.

Sitting on the side of his bed, near his stomach and his tangled sheets, she shook him gently. "Pacey, wake up." His eyes fluttered open this time and he sighed. She realized how long it had been since she'd looked into those beautiful blue eyes. Smiling, she said, "Hi, sweetie. How are you feeling?"

"Gross," he replied, rubbing his eyes. "How 'bout you?"

She giggled. "I'm fine. Does your stomach still hurt? I was going to make you some soup."

"What kind?"

"Double Noodle, your favorite."

Pacey smiled. She never came to his baseball games or went to see his work at school, but she knew his favorite soup. "Okay."

"I'll be right back then." She left quietly.

Pacey stared up at the ceiling. He straightened the sheets on his bed. They weren't covering much. He wasn't really hungry, but he didn't want to make her feel bad. She always tried to help a little by making soup when he was sick. She thought it was some miracle remedy. He didn't want to disappoint her.

She returned with a big bowl of soup on a tray. Pacey noted how carefully she walked in order to not spill it. She settled it over his lap and he tried to sit up.

"Whoops," she said, laughing, and lifted it up so he could move. "There you go."

"Thanks, Mom."

"You let me know if you need anything else, sweetheart." He smiled and raised a spoonful of soup to his mouth to make her happy. "Has Doug been feeding you?" she asked suddenly, with concern in her voice. "You look so thin."

"I've been working out a little," he lied.

"Oh, why? What happened to those baby cheeks I loved? And," she noted, with a frown, "I can see your ribs. Maybe you should take a break from that."

"I will," he said, his cheeks reddening. "Actually, I was sort of happy to see the cheeks go. I am sixteen, not six."

"But they were so cute," she mumbled, getting up. "I'm going to go make dinner." She left.

Suddenly, the soup didn't taste very good. He felt like he'd already eaten too much. Ugh, he thought. It figures, I start to feel better about my body and Mom thinks I'm too skinny.

He knew not eating at all wasn't healthy, but he didn't really care. It had worked and he wasn't about to throw it all away because his mother had an opinion.

"Only one way to do this," he muttered.

I hang my head and I advertise
A soul for sale or rent
I have no heart I'm cold inside
I have no real intent

He was hoping his mother hadn't heard, but she had. She came running up the stairs, that ridiculous house-dress slowing her down.

"Oh, Pacey," she cried, picking up the tray and setting it on his cluttered desk. "You shouldn't have eaten."

Clutching his stomach for effect, he lied back on his bed and moaned. "Ow, that sucked."

"Pacey!" she said sharply. "Don't say that."

"But it did."

"Use a different word."

He rolled his eyes and tried not to smile. He felt much better without food in his stomach. Much, much better.

"Maybe I should have some more. See if I can keep it down."

"No! No, Pacey, wait a little while longer before you do that." She made a face and took his garbage can out of the room. "Next time, try to make it to the bathroom!" she called.

"Sorry!" he called back. "Whatever." He grabbed his remote off the night table. She reentered and he put on the unhappy, 'I think I might cry' face.

"Poor baby," she cooed, rubbing his forehead. "Just watch some TV and relax. Do you want me to put on a video?"

Pacey thought for a minute. Maybe I could watch all of my videos in alphabetical order. He smirked. And I won't go back to school until I do.

"Could you put on Animal House?" he asked sweetly.

"Pacey, that movie is filthy."

"It's funny." He pouted. "Laughter is the best medicine."

Mrs. Witter smiled at the simple remedy. "Oh, all right." She grabbed the tape off his shelf and put it in. "I'll be downstairs if you need me."

"Thanks."

By one o' clock, he had watched Animal House, The Blues Brothers, and his mother's copy of Casablanca, the only C movie he could find. It was either that or his brother's Cats tape.

"Just one more and then I'll go to bed," he said to himself. "Let's see." He scanned his video collection. "Dogma or Dr. Dolittle?"

"TV destroys your mind," his brother said from the door, grinning. "With what little you have left, I thought you might want to take care of it."

"Nah, not really." Pacey picked up Dogma. "Want to watch it with me?"

"I have to get home. I just came by to drop off your stuff." He held up a large duffel bag for Pacey to see and unceremoniously dropped it to the floor.

"Weren't you coming to pick me up?"

"Nope, you're home for good, kid. Mom and Dad have been bugging me for a while about it."

"Yeah, because they want Gina out of the house."

"Actually, because of what happened today. You played right into Mom's worst fear. She wouldn't be around to make you soup if you were sick," Doug said, laughing. "Besides, I think Jane might be moving in soon."

"Really? I thought you two weren't that serious." Doug's girlfriend was a sweet, quiet girl who was really awesome when Pacey started to talk to her. She didn't treat him like a kid brother, she treated him like an adult.

"Apparently we are. She's been bringing it up a lot lately."

"She never said anything to me."

"She didn't want to make you feel like you had to move out or something. She likes you."

Pacey smiled. "I like her, too. You guys are good together. And all this time I thought you'd be introducing me to some guy you've been hiding in your closet."

"Very funny." Doug looked around Pacey's room, feeling slightly nostalgic. "I can't say that I'm not going to miss having you around. It's been a lot of fun. You promise you're going to call me and come hang out if there's any problems?"

"Who else am I going to call?"

Doug moved closer to Pacey's bed and extended his hand. "Got to go. Catch you on the flip side." Pacey took his hand and pulled Doug close to him for a hug.

"Thanks for letting me stay with you."

"No problem." They pulled away from each other.

"Feel better."

"I'll try."

Doug started to leave. "Oh, wait. Mom told me to tell you that Dawson called. Five times. Would you just call him already?"

"It's one in the morning, I'm not calling anybody."

"Then call him tomorrow. He's driving Mom crazy."

Save me save me save me
I can't face this life alone
Save me save me save me...
I'm naked and I'm far from home

"He never picks up the phone," Dawson said, sighing. Joey frowned and sat up straighter on the bed.

"Maybe he really is sick."

"I guess. But that's never rendered him phone-impaired before."

"Do you think he heard us at the video store?" she asked. "He seemed a little weird then."

"He might have." Dawson nodded. "I have to apologize. He heard, he had to."

"Wow," Joey mumbled. "No wonder he doesn't like talking to us anymore. We are, like, the worst friends."

"I wouldn't go that far."

"Seriously, Dawson. Talking about him behind his back? Making light of a difficult situation? He needed help and we didn't give it to him." Joey looked into Dawson's eyes. "How would you feel if someone, especially a close friend, did that to you?"

"I think I'd be acting like Pacey."

Save me save me save me
I can't face this life alone
Save me save me save me...
I'm naked and I'm far from home

"Time for the M's," Pacey announced to himself when he woke up the next morning. "Let's see, oh, way too many M's. The Matrix, The Mighty Ducks 1, 2, and 3, Mrs. Doubtfire, or Monty Python and the Holy Grail?"

He still felt exhausted. He had only slept for a few hours.

"Hmm, okay." He pulled a tape off the shelf. "Your mother was a hamster and your father..."

"Good morning," his father said, startling him.

"Oh, hi, Dad." Pacey popped the movie in and climbed back into bed. "What's up?"

"Not going to school today?"

"No, I'm sick."

"You don't sound sick."

"Well, it's not really a sound-oriented thing."

"I don't think you should be getting smart with me on your first full day back," Mr. Witter warned.

"Why are you all over me? I'm sick. I'm staying home," Pacey said firmly. "Get over it."

In a second Mr. Witter was hovering over Pacey. "Don't ay back to me. I don't care what Doug let you do. This is my house and you will do what I say."

"What happened to us, Dad?" Pacey realized there were tears in his eyes. He bit his lip to keep them from leaking out. "A year ago you held me when I was crying. Now you hate me again. What did I do?"

Mr. Witter's expression didn't soften, but his eyes did. "Get some rest, Pacey."


END OF PART 4

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