A final stroke of Ghost White along the water line completed the work. With a sigh she climbed down from the ladder, holding her pallet in one hand, using the other to descend. Joey put her paints on the trampled ground next to the ladder then moved to the side walk to survey her finished mural.

Arms crossed, she critically analyzed her eight months of work. She'd started in March taking time to carefully clean the wall, washing every brick, preparing it for the two coats of white paint. She recruited Dawson, Andie, Jack, Jen and Pacey to help in the beginning. The company made the work easier and distracted her from her thoughts. It had taken them two weeks to paint the entire wall, top to bottom... the perfect canvas.

At that point she had left it alone until summer, unable to bring herself to break the unmarred perfection of the white canvas... to open his gift to her. By summer she'd found her focus, her subject. A reason to paint, a message to share. Something she believed in. What limited free time she had, was spent diligently planning the piece, making sketches, painting the background.

Her work was almost feverish, frantic, so desperate was her need to forget and lose herself in the work. By the time school started that September, she'd been ready to start the details. The textures and shadows, she'd worked diligently for the last to months to translate the emotions she was experiencing into images on the wall.

Joey scrutinized the sky, dark and heavy in the middle of a storm. Golden-red light shone brilliantly from a break in the clouds illuminating the scene below. A boat, caught in the eye of the storm, the waters surrounding it smooth as glass in comparison to the many whitecaps rising and crashing just yards away. It's smooth contours, bright colors and detailed craftsmanship were elegantly displayed in the golden light shining down from above. It was a boat she knew well, it's name emblazoned on the stern... "True Love".

To the left, standing alone on a rock jetty off the coast was a woman enshrouded in darkness. Her hair flying furiously in the storm, her clothes plastered to her body by the heavy rain. A single arm was outstretched to the water, helpless to reach the warmth and safety of the boat. To the right of the water, north of the boat, on what could be a peninsula or island, stood another equally sullen dark figure. This one distinctly masculine. The shoulders were slumped in defeat, the barely decipherable face was turned down, the dark grey paint used on the face suggested only eyes. She had added him just that day... her finishing touch. The one thing that made the mural whole.

The few passerbys who stopped to watch her work never noticed the two figures lost in the storm, unable to reach the calm. Most were drawn to the beauty of the boat, the calmness surrounding "True Love". To the viewer the storm was only a backdrop to the serenity of love. To Joey, it was the hopelessness, the anger and the frustration of love. It portrayed the harsh whirlwind and the inaccessibility of the serene calm. She was caught in the storm never to reach her true love.

She frowned, happy with her work, but not what it represented for her. Warm arms encircled her from behind and she felt a startling familiarity that caused her to shudder. She leaned back against his body and tilted her neck to the side, a silent invitation to kiss her neck. Instead, he whispered into her ear, "Hey, Joey." Instantly she stiffened, shocked at her own presumptuousness... her wishful thinking. The wave of guilt that flooded her senses caused a blush to climb her neck, she moved away so he wouldn't see.

"Hey Dawson." She said, collecting her things so they could leave. "So... um, what do you think?" She asked tentatively, gesturing to the wall, putting her dirty brushes into a tub.

"You know I love it, Jo. I love anything you do." She turned to face him, her blush gone, her eyes serious.

"No, really Dawson, what do you think?" she was curious as to just how much of her soul he would see in her work.

"I see... hurt." He answered, taking in the vision before him. The harsh lines of the storm, the warm heart surrounding the boat. "And love. The beauty of love." He continued with more assurance. "I see that love is at the heart of every storm. That where there is pain and heartache there's love at the heart of it." He returned his gaze to her face, to see what she thought of his interpretation.

She nodded to herself, her face betraying none of her thoughts to her boyfriend. It was a typical Dawson Leery answer, chock full of eternal optimism and focused on the bright side. The silver lining of every cloud. The calm of every storm.

Dawson inwardly cringed at the silence that followed his words. It obviously wasn't what she wanted to hear. "It is beautiful, Joey." He tried to make amends. "The boat is amazing, the angle, the dimensions, the color. The sunset shining through is gorgeous and the storm is incredibly realistic. I don't know how you do it."

"Anything else?" Joey asked him, forcing a teasing tone to reassure him that she wasn't mad.

"It's beautiful."

Joey looked up at the wall once again in the fading daylight, her eyes focusing on the couple, shrouded in darkness on opposite sides of the canvas. "You don't see anything else?" She inquired, her voice hesitant. If he didn't see them, she didn't want to draw his attention to the two people.

Dawson looked apprehensive, "No." She nodded satisfied, the couple was more for herself than for any artistic intent. They worked together silently, collecting Joey's supplies and within minutes they were on the road to the Potter B&B. She remained silent the whole ride, watching Capeside fly past her window. The town she had grown up in flying past before she had a chance to focus on one image. It was the perfect imitation of her inner turmoil, thoughts flying by one after the other, one gone and replaced by another before she could get a handle on it.

Dawson sighed, pulling into the driveway of Joey's house. He put the car in park, and reached out a hand to stop Joey as she made a move to exit the car. His arm on her sleeve stopped her. "Joey, are you okay?" concern was etched deeply into his features.

"Yeah," she answered quickly, too quickly, "I'm fine." She avoided looking into his eyes, knowing he wasn't prepared to see what was in them anymore than she was prepared to show him. "A little tired, maybe."

"You have all weekend to rest after tomorrow," He reminded her before continuing on hesitantly, "but that wasn't what I meant. You've been acting strangely all day. Ever since lunch, you haven't said a word to anyone."

"I'm fine, Dawson." She insisted.

"You'd tell me if something was bothering you, right?" Dawson frowned, there had been a time when he instinctively knew what she was thinking. And knew what to do to help her. He felt the loss of their friendship more acutely listening to himself ask a question that once upon a yesterday he'd know the the answer to right away.

"Of course I would." Joey lied through her teeth. She remained where she sat, the silence between them tangible, but not awkward. So much had changed since the spring. Things had been awkward after Pacey had kissed her. The shock and confusion she felt was knotted around the elation being with him brought her... not to mention the guilt. The whole thing left her confused, angry and scared... all of which caused her to push him away. He went... and never looked back.

By the time she had figured out what she wanted... him, he was miles away emotionally. They saw each other in school or occasionally with the group. No one knew what had happened between them, they never explained why the stopped hanging out together. The time they used to spent alone together was now non-existant. That's what hurt the most... that he could just turn off his feelings for her. He started hanging around with Andie again, and she followed in his footsteps rebuilding her friendship with Dawson, attempting to forget about him as easily as he had forgotten about her. Unfortunately, it hadn't been easy... in fact, impossible best described it. The day she found out he and Andie had started dating again was still etched clearly in her mind.

It was movie night, about a week into summer break. She'd gone to the store to buy snacks for everyone and opted for the front door as opposed to the window. That had been her mistake. She'd opened the door without knocking and went into the kitchen to put the sodas in the refrigerator, and walked right in on Pacey and Andie tenderly kissing in the doorway to the dining room. Her hands on his cheeks, his hand curved around the back of her head. The bag of groceries had slipped from her fingers, the loud thump alerting them to her her presence. "Sorry," she'd said, quickly picking the bag up again. She quickly put the drinks away and rushed upstairs, avoiding them both the entire time. She couldn't face either of them... they'd have seen the tears in her eyes. Instead of going to Dawson's room, she went to the bathroom to calm herself down. Splashing water on her face, she reminded herself there was nothing between her and Pacey. There was her.... and then there was him and Andie.

She'd returned to Dawson's room a few minutes later as though nothing had happened. She could feel Pacey's eyes on her throughout the evening as the seven of them watched the latest new releases from Screen Play. She ignored him. A little over a week later, she was back with Dawson. Her safety, her constant. She felt guilty for using him as a replacement for Pacey... that's what he was. If she'd had enough inner strength, she would have faced his rejection on her own instead of running to the closest pair of open arms. She couldn't figure out what kept Dawson by her side, she guessed he thought he loved her. Which made her reasons for being with him all the more terrible.

She sighed heavily, feeling trapped by her own emotions. If things weren't hard enough, there was her whole psydo-conversation with Pacey during English earlier that day. She'd accepted months ago that things were over with Pacey before they ever began. And now she's found out that... that it wasn't over. Or was it?

"Jo?" Dawson interrupted her inner debate.

She looked pensively at him. "How important is my happiness, Dawson?" She looked at him, genuinely curious as to what his answer would be. How he'd feel if by some miracle the world turned upside down and she got her heart's desire.

"What?" Confusion spread across his face as he looked at the girl he'd known his entire life, and loved for a good portion of it.

Her brows drew together, she wasn't sure quite how to explain her request to him. "I mean," she turned in her seat to face him, "How important is it that I'm happy?"

"I still don't think I understand, Joey."

She inhaled a deep breath, trying to think of a way of different way. "What is happiness worth? What price is too high to pay?"

Dawson was perplexed by the question, and even more baffled by the urgent look on her face, the desperation. "I don't know what to tell you, Joey." She looked down, resigned, she didn't know what kind of answer she was hoping for, but that wasn't it. He continued, seeing her downtrodden look, anything to keep that look off her face. "I think," he paused, "that sacrificing someone else's happiness for your own is a price too high to pay. If achieving your happiness means you destroy someone else's... " He trailed off.

She took in his words, he was right of course. If hurting your friends brought you happiness, was it really happiness? She nodded, she couldn't hurt Dawson and Andie for a pipe dream with Pacey. She smiled grimly, "Thanks Dawson," she gave him a quick kiss on the lips and gathered her bin of supplies from the back seat. She disappeared into the house without looking back.

~*^*~

Trigonometry 2A, another of the dreaded classes forced down on seniors. Mr. Buchan took pleasure in teaching math... and even more pleasure in watching his students squirm as they tried to understand logarithms, consigns and tangents. They were getting their chapter three tests back today. Joey wasn't listening as he explained the test and what problems they'd had trouble with. She was too busy examining Pacey.

It was rare that she'd get an opportunity to just stare at him for an extended period of time. She relished the opportunity to just look at him, take in his presence. One large hand cupped the side of his face, his elbow leaning on the desk. The other played with his pencil, his nimble fingers twirling it, manipulating it around in his hand. He sat kiddy-corner from her, in front of Andie, who sat next to her. The position offered her a perfect profile of his face. His forehead was wrinkled and his eyebrows drawn together in concentration. What he was concentrating on, she didn't know, Mr. Buchan's ramblings weren't that interesting. His eyes, well the one she could see, was a deep royal blue, he was staring off at nothing, an indecipherable point in front of him. His lips were slightly parted, allowing a shallow breath to pass through. She could just make out the pulse beating in his sinuous neck. Her fingers itched to touch it, to feel his blood pounding through his veins. His white t-shirt was pulled taut across his back, allowing her to see the strong line of his spine, the width of his shoulders, and the narrowness of his waist.

A paper flew onto her desk, breaking her reverie. Her test. Her gaze went back to Pacey, who had just received his own. She caught site of a red B+ at the head of the paper. She felt a flush of pride at his accomplishment, knowing he had put forth real effort to earn the grade. She smiled reflexively as his own smile grew into a grin. It fell though when he turned in his seat and hugged the girl behind him... Andie... her friend... his girlfriend.

He showed her the test, and she squealed her typical Andie squeal, holding her arms out to him. He hesitated for a second, he probably didn't even notice that he had. Joey noticed though, she was in tuned to his every movement. She looked away finally when he buried his face in her hair. That was enough, self torture never got her anywhere. She turned over her own test, A-. It was good. But she didn't feel the wave of self-pride she usually did when she achieved a good grade. The overjoyed feeling that she was one step closer to getting out of Capeside was missing.

Against her own will, her eyes went back to Andie and Pacey, they had pulled apart, she was patiently showing him the problems he'd missed, and explained why he'd gotten them wrong. He was listening intently, following her words. His hand resting over hers. Joey tore her eyes away and looked down as jealously filled her every cell. Her imagination was so strong, she could feel his hand over hers, the delicate strength, the warmth of his hand covering hers.

Jealousy. She hated the word. She hated the emotion. Most of all she hated that she felt it for Andie, her friend. Dawson was right. If happiness meant taking away the happiness of friends... then it wasn't really happiness. She could never be truly happy with Pacey if every time she saw Andie or Dawson, she'd be reminded of what her happiness had cost.

Like it mattered..., she reminded herself. For it to even be a possibility, he'd have to feel the same. It was a thought she'd had continually repeated in her mind for the last 5 months. Only now, since the events of yesterday, it was different. Before, she had thought the yearning to reach "True Love" was hers alone. Now, she'd found that he too, was caught in the storm.

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