Disclaimer: I don't own Dawson's Creek. I wish I did, but the sad truth is...
I don't. I don't think the producers of the show would really screw their group up as
much as I plan on doing. Nor do I won Pacey's letter to Dawson. I took that from Pacey's
summer diary.
Author's note: This starts up after the season 3 finale. I must apologise to anyone
who thinks what I'm doing to their little 'clique' is cruel. It probably is, but the
point I'm trying to get across is that in real-life, people aren't that forgiving.
Out of all the fights and break-ups with friends that I've had in the past year (five),
I've only made up with one of those friends. Maybe I'm just stubborn, but the harsh
reality is that not everyone would be happy to just forgive and forget about what
someone did if that thing was estrange themselves from you for the past two summers.
I just thought I'd clear up my reasons for what happens to them throughout my story.
Feedback: I love feedback! Please tell me what you think of my
writing abilities. But I must say... as Nikki said - "Constructive critism only,
please." Well... that and suggestions for what you believe should happen. Email me
at [email protected]
Prologue
She looked up from her sketch pad to take a squint at her subject, before returning
to her half completed picture, carefully shading the back of her subject's head.
Her subject moved, throwing his pen at the floor and cursing under his breath. She
placed her sketch pad down on the bed and sighed. She was in the middle of nowhere -
why was it so hard to complete one picture?! This seemed like the perfect
enviroment. It was silent, there was only one other person there, and that 'one
other person' didn't seem to mind the fact that she was totally absorbed in her
art. That 'other person' was totally absorbed in something else - cursing at the
piece of brown paper in front of him.
She walked up behind him. "Pacey, what's wrong?"
Pacey grabbed the piece of paper before she could see what was on it. "Nothing, Joey,"
he replied, lying through his teeth. "Go back to your artwork."
"That's kinda hard, Pace," she said with a smile. "I was trying to draw you, but you
moved from your statue-like pose."
"I wasn't posing!" he said, pretending to be offended.
"Well you were being pretty damn still!" she replied with a smile.
A small smile spread across his face too.
"What were you writing?" she asked curiously.
"Nothing," he replied, looking away. It was too hard to lie to her when he looked
her in the eyes.
She kissed him lightly on the lips, then pulled away, not losing his gaze. She
knew that if she did, she would also lose all hope of finding out what was on
that piece of paper.
She didn't have to ask. He could see in her eyes whatever was on her mind.
"It's a letter to Dawson," he said as he pulled it out of his pocket.
Joey took it from his hands and sat down beside him. She uncrumpled the paper
and began to read it out loud.
"Dawson,
Joey says you told her to come with me. I don't know if "thank you" is appropriate
at this time, but... Well, I guess it's not. I know it's not. I'm happy as hell
right now that Joey is with me but I'd be lying if I said it wasn't ripping me
up inside knowing what I did to my best friend. I still consider you my best friend.
Even if you never speak to me again, you'll still be the best friend that I've
ever had. You were there for me when no one in my family ever was, and you were
my friend when no one else would be.
I'm sorry that what happened between Joey and me hurt you as much as it did."
Joey put the letter down and stopped reading for a moment. Pacey thought that he
saw a tear in Joey's eye. She smiled as the tear ran down her cheek. He leaned
over to her and brushed it away.
"It's beautiful, Pacey," she said softly.
She then picked up the letter and kept reading.
"Do you think you can forgive me? It's probably not the best time to ask you that.
I don't know what's going to happen between Joey and me right now. I never planned
for any of what's happened to happen, so it's a little hard for me to predict even
the next forty-eight hours. Plus I seem to have forgotten my seafaring map at the
last port so, I'm not even sure when I'll see land again, but that's another story..."
Dawson slowly removed the piece of paper from where he held it in front of his face.
His hand fumbled for something on his bedside table - a lighter. He flicked it a
couple of times before it actually stayed alight. He held it under the paper,
and it slowly burnt a hole in the words 'Joey is with me.'
He let the paper drop from his hands. Only a small segment of the letter was left.
It read 'I still consider you the best friend that I ever had.'
He reached over to his bedside table again, only this time he picked up a bottle
of liquor and two darts.
He took a swig of the cheap scotch and pulled the safety tip off the dart. He aimed
it at the painting Aunt Gwen had given him. Despite his distorted senses from
all the alcohol, he still managed to hit Joey right between the eyes.
He didn't smile of congratulate himself for his perfect shot. Instead, he just
did the same with the other dart.
He hit himself in the heart. And he felt it - he did. He had felt it when he'd
first found out about Joey and Pacey, he had felt it when she left, and he felt it
now.
He took one last swig of the scotch before dropping the bottle and passing out for
the evening.
