Joey Potter stood on the tips of her toes on top of a rusted metal pail. The sudden roll of thunder startled her and she slid from the pail, sending it clattering along the cement walk as she fell. She scraped her knee on the ground, "Oh..."

She quickly rolled to a seated position on the wet ground as the rain pounded down on her. She fumbled for the tiny keyring flashlight she was using to examine the phone jacks on the side of the house. She retrieved it and aimed the beam of light to her knee. The rain was turning the blood a dark pink as it soaked into the already wet material of her jeans. "Damn it."

So far everything had been going perfect. The weather was cooperating, covering any excess noise, keeping the occupant of the house completely unaware of her presence. She'd arranged to have her car strategically placed just a few blocks away from his lengthy driveway and perfectly incapacitated to back up her story.

But now she was bleeding, Joey stood up, testing the pain. There was a limp, but she should be okay. Maybe that would stir some sympathy? She hobbled back to the bucket and turned it upsided down again, climbing back on top of it.

Putting the flashlight in her mouth, she aimed the light for the array of colored wires. Blue, yellow, red, orange and green. She narrowed her eyes and pulled the yellow and orange from their sockets. With a snap she closed the metal cover and got down.

She glanced down at her outifit wishing it was less consipicous. If the Witter family house hadn't existed on the outskirts of Capeside she was sure someone would have easily caught sight of her in her yellow raincoat.

Mission accomplished, she walked as stealthily as she could around the house to the front porch. The only light shown through the gaps in the curtains in what she knew was the Witter living room.

She paused, remembering the last time she'd seen the inside of the Witter house. Pacey's eighteeth birthday. What a horrible night that was...but it had turned out reasonably okay. Too bad the same couldn't be said for their relationship.

But that was years ago. She was twenty-eight and perfectly okay with her single status. She worked at the community college, teaching art to pay the bills while she spent her free time focused on her own art work. The desire to make a name for herself faded over the years, leaving her with what drove her to art in the first place, the love of expressing herself. That love had preceded her moderate success, making her a well known local artist on the cape.

Pacey on the other hand...she'd followed his career with a sort of morbid curiosity. Watching him in Barefoot in the Park all those years ago, she'd kinda known he was made for the entertainment industry. She couldn't help but laugh when she heard he was joining the cast of General Hospital, but that didn't stop her from tuning in whenever she got the chance. His first movie, Longman, had sucked, but she'd seen in twelve times. The second, third, and fourth were each successfully better, and she owned them all.

He wasn't a Mel Gibson or Brad Pitt, but that kind of success seemed to be written in the stars for Pacey Witter. His next movie, Radar, was scheduled for release in four months and had the critics raving. No one ever expected Pacey Witter to return to Capeside, but he had. For his father's funeral.

Everyone in town knew he was there...but were all suprised when he hadn't show up. Joey had heard many whispers about "What a shame that famous Witter boy hadn't shown up for his own father's funeral." Joey kept her mouth shut when it came to that, she'd known what a horrible father John Witter had been and didn't blame Pacey for skipping the funeral. All the Witter children had, but they didn't draw as much attention from the Capeside townfolk as Pacey. No one did. Pacey Witter was Capeside's only claim to fame in the world, and everything he did, good or bad, was instantly public knowledge.

It irked the Capesideians that though he'd been in town since Sunday, he hadn't once emerged from his childhood home. Not that she blamed him, his mother had up and left a year ago taking nothing with her, and no one had heard from Mary Witter since. John had spent the rest of his life drinking himself to death. Doug, Gretchen, Carrie, Sylvia and Pacey were by then all long gone. Only Pacey had bothered to return. Since he hadn't gone to the funeral though, everyone was mystified as to why he'd even bothered come back. Including Joey.

She knocked on the door with deterimation. This wasn't going to be a social call though, she was a woman on a mission. She narrowed her eyes, a huge part of her life was somewhere inside that house...and if she had to go through the illustrious Pacey Witter to get to it, so be it.

The door opened wide, light spilling onto the porch. "What is it?" Pacey squinted into the dark, a bottle of Bourbon in his hand.

"I, uh..." as carefully as she'd planned, she hadn't given much thought to actually facing him. "Me...my, um, my car..."

"Do I know you?" His voice slurred just slightly. His rumpled appearance, hair uncombed, his jaw covered with dark stubble, both attracted and discusted her. He was drunk.

"Joey, Joey Potter. We went to school together." She said sarcastically, "You might remember me, we had that little fling Junior and Senior year."

"Awwww, Joey." He smiled. "Don't get your feathers all ruffled."

"Are you gonna let me in or are you going to let me freeze in the rain?"

"It's summer still." Pacey pointed out as though that explained something.

Joey arched an eyebrow.

"Come in." He sighed, the last thing Pacey wanted was an emotional reunion with an ex-girlfriend. Even if she was the ex-girlfriend. The one that got compared to every woman that followed. He regarded Joey through lowered lashes as he stepped past to let her in, it was no wonder they all fell short, she was still as gorgeous as ever. Even rain soaked and limping.

"You're limping."

"Astute, Pace." She sighed, well, at least if he was drunk it'd be easier to lie to him. Sober, he might easily see right through her.

"What happened?"

"I fell in your driveway. It was too dark and I tripped on one of the rocks." The lie slid easily past her lips.

"What were you doing in my driveway?" He took another drink from his bottle and watched a shiver rake through her lithe body.

"My car broke down on Oak street, this was the closest house I knew of. Do you mind if I use the phone to call Bessie for a ride?" She asked, sticking to her plan.

"Sure." He followed behind her as she walked through the living room. "I didn't know you were still in town."

"You were too busy living your life to think of old friends."

Pacey decided that he didn't like the ease with which she'd spoken. There wasn't even a hint of accusation in them. Like she didn't even care.

"Maybe."

She lifted the receiver of his phone, already knowing it would be dead. She hit the cradle a few times for emphesis. "I think your phone is out."

He shrugged, "Guess you're stuck here then." He should be ashamed to be pleased with the idea.

"I guess."

"Come on," he took her hand, and pulled her towards the kitchen, startled at the jolt of electricty that passed through his body at the contact. "Let's get you bandaged up. Then maybe into some warm clothes."

She was instantly warmed at his concern. Even drunk he managed to take her comfort into consideration.

"Take off your pants."

Then again, maybe not. "Take what?" She stared at him, her brown eyes wide.

There had never been anything more entertaining to Pacey Witter than shocking Joey Potter. "Take. Off. Your. Pants."

"Wh-why?" She took a step back.

"I need to look at your knee and your jeans are too tight to roll up. Besides," he gave her a steamy look, "You have to take them off some time."

"Here, I'll leave, go find you a change of clothes, and a first aid kit. When I come back, I expect you pants-less." He turned and left, taking another drink of bourbon as he left, not giving her a chance to reply.

Damn him, Joey thought. He had to go and make perfect sense.