He was waiting for her at her front porch. Jen could see him through her bedroom window, and was surprised at how pleased she felt that someone cared enough to come and see her, to walk her to school. Wisely enough, he was avoiding actually knocking on the door; Grams would give him a death stare rivaling that of a seven-headed Hydra, thought Jen cynically.

He was waiting so patiently, just sitting there on her steps, staring idly at Dawson's house and barely moving. And Jen dressed quickly, barely caring what she was throwing on, so as not to keep him waiting. She ran down the stairs, skipping every other one, and grabbed a piece of toast from her plate in the kitchen, shouting "Bye, Grams," and waving off Grams' startled protests. She ran to the front door, and stopped. And then opened it calmly, and walked out slowly.
 
 "Hey, Pacey. What're you doing here so early?"

He smiled to see her, and his eyes lit up. Jen stared, fascinated. She'd never seen anyone's eyes do that so clearly before. Were they green or blue? Or just some sea-colored in-between shade that she'd never seen before on a person? She realized he was answering her, and shook herself mentally so as to not seem like a total idiot and be unable to answer.
 
"....crashed at Dawson's," he was saying. "He needed to talk even more than I thought. By the time he'd finished, it was about 2 a.m. Going home at that point would have been equivalent to becoming a kamikaze pilot, so I stayed. And I thought you'd want to know what he said." He smiled again, crookedly, and a wave of warmth began somewhere around Jen's toes, tickling and teasing, rising slowly higher.

She shook herself again, physically this time, and bit off the corner of her toast. "You thought right. What happened to have Dawson running crazily around looking for her after that earthshaking kiss?"

"Joey went nuts on him," he answered simply. "She pulled back and asked him why he was doing this now instead of a week ago, and then announced she was going to go to France and he might never hear from her again, and took off out the window. He went after her, of course, but he didn't find her. He's going crazy. If she goes to France, she'll be leaving tomorrow." He extended his arm to her again; Jen accepted it gladly. It seemed to be their accepted code already; after one night of heavy-duty bonding, she already felt so strangely herself around him, in a way she'd never felt before; she supposed that this was what having a real guy friend felt like. And at the back of her mind, in a nagging crescendo; Why am I not less happy? My gramps is dead. How can I be happy?

She chewed and swallowed quickly, trying to seem graceful, and felt slightly gratified that Dawson's attempts hadn't gone as smoothly as satin after all. But not as gratified as she might have expected. "Wow. Did he, uh, say anything about me?" As an afterthought, she waved her slice of toast at him slightly awkwardly. "Want some?"

He broke off the opposite corner to the one she'd bitten, and put it in his mouth thoughtfully without breaking their interlinked arms. "Thanks. Yes, actually. He said that he hoped that you wouldn't be hurt, and that you could be friends. And - wait for it - he said he was sure you'd understand that none of this was his fault." He gave a short laugh. "I actually got pretty pissed off at him for that one on your behalf. I mean, I know he's not the world's most sensitive guy, or the most observant, but that's a pretty shabby thing to say about someone you've recently broken up with, and more recently rejected." He glanced at her. "No offense."

"None taken," she replied, and meant it. Almost surprisingly. She was enjoying talking to someone with whom she didn't have to worry about impressing anyone or avoiding offense. Apart from the sensation of unreality; I can't be enjoying myself. He's barely gone. Glancing up at Dawson's window as they passed his house, she saw him standing there, dressed for school and open-mouthed at the sight of she and Pacey arm-in-arm and talking animatedly. In a sudden flash of clarity, she thought: He actually looks pretty dorky. She just barely resisted the urge to wave.

Pacey hadn't noticed Dawson, partly because he was facing slightly inwards to her and Dawson was behind him. "Did you sleep well?" he asked, grinning that grin again. Jen was bemused.

"What? Why are you asking that?"

"I just thought you might have had trouble, you know? Dawson, your gramps....." He trailed off, watching Jen's knowing face, and relented. "Okay, I confess. I was watching your window from Dawson's room, and your light didn't go off till really late. I was just going to ask politely."

Jen laughed. "I fell asleep with it on, and I woke up at around 3 a.m. and turned it off. You mustn't have gotten much sleep at all."

"You got...." Ironically, he was cut off by a yawn. "You got that right. Every time I tried to go to sleep, Dawson would say something like, 'Did I have bad breath or something?'. I started watching your room from his window out of boredom."

"And just what did you expect to see?" said Jen, smirking, sure she had the upper hand. He flushed slightly. "Pacey Witter, you pervert. Anyway, I had the shades drawn. You wouldn't have been able to see anything."

"I watched your silhouette," he said, smirking through his flush.

A flood of heat swept through Jen, tingling her fingertips and twitching her toes inside the new sneakers she'd worn for the first time today. "Pacey. Stop it."

He smiled again, but placatingly and honestly this time. "I'm sorry. I was only teasing." There was a brief, but comfortable silence.

"How're you doing... about your gramps?" He smiled self-deprecatingly. "That didn't make any sense."

Jen started. "I'd almost forgotten," she confessed, and felt terrible. "After we talked last night, I just went right to sleep without thinking at all, and I've pretty much only just woken up this morning. I don't know if it's better that I feel cheerful now, or if it's unhealthy, but I guess I'll think about it later."

"Good that you're doing well so far anyway." He stole another piece from Jen's half-eaten toast, and swallowed it whole. "Hey, we're nearly there. What do you say we go and find out Joey's thoughts on this whole thing?"

Jen stole a glance at him as they entered the grounds of Capeside High. "Sure. As long as she doesn't rip my throat out or anything."

"Don't worry. She'll be too busy tearing out my throat for asking."

"Yeah, and then she'll turn her attention to me!" They laughed. Pacey made a right turn down the corridor once they were inside the building, and she looked at him, confused.

"Joey's locker. The P's are way down here."

Jen giggled. "I always wondered why I never saw Joey at her locker."

"Oh, yeah. She doesn't want anyone to see the body." Jen was still laughing when they drew up to Joey, head buried inside her locker and books flying out either side of her head. Pacey caught her math book one-handed, and carefully placed it on the floor. "Hey, Jo. What brings on the attack on such an innocent piece of school property?"

"I can't find my Econ book," came the testy but bodiless reply, as Joey stuck her shoulders inside even deeper. Jen heard a clang, and winced. Finally, Joey's head emerged, wearing an extremely irritated expression and a slightly disheveled bun. She gawked shamelessly at Jen and Pacey, and opened her mouth for a few seconds before shutting it again, and finally speaking. "Since when are you two such good friends?"

"Since you and Dawson became very, very close friends," shot back Pacey without missing a beat. Jen looked on, amused; she'd rarely seen Pacey and Joey in full sparring mode, but it was always fun to watch. Joey's expression was classic; Jen doubted that she'd realized she and Dawson had had an audience. But, in true Joey fashion, she recovered herself within seconds and launched a counter-attack.

"Needed some visual stimulation to yank your chain again, Pacey?"

"If you think you and Dawson in one of your torrid liplocks qualifies as visual stimulation, Joey, you've got a long way to go before I can introduce you to the Playboy Channel."

Joey scowled. "Pervert."

"Prude."

Jen cut in before Joey could toss in a 'Bite me'. "Anyway, Joey, we came to find out what happened. We were at the Icehouse when Dawson came in looking for you." She cringed, as Joey sent the narrow-eyed Joey Stare her way; luckily, Pacey jumped in.

"It was my idea, Joey. Thrash me. Or try and fail, like you've been doing for approximately ten years now."

A grin was reluctantly dragged out. "You're gonna pay, Witter."

"Whatever. So, are you telling us or not?"

The grin disappeared. "Not."

Jen tried one last time. "Are you going to France, Joey?"

"Yes. You're getting Dawson all to yourself again, Jen," said Joey nastily, shoving her recovered Econ book roughly into her bag. In desperation, Jen caught her arm and looked Joey in the face.

"I don't want him back any more, Joey. I've tried, I've failed, and I've realized I don't really want to be treated the way he's treated me any more. Yes, I still care for him - you of all people should understand that - but I couldn't live with it when I know that... he loves you." She put all of her sincerity behind her voice; Joey faltered, and gave in.

"Thanks, Jen. I don't believe it, but.... thank you for saying so."

Jen shifted uncomfortably. "So when do you leave, Joey?"

"Tomorrow."

Pacey whistled. "Wow. That's kinda abrupt."

"Suits me. I have no interest in seeing Dawson again before I leave."

"Need anyone to drive you to the airport?" Pacey tossed a few of Joey's abandoned books back into her locker.

"That'd be great. Thanks." Another reluctant smile was forthcoming.

Pacey grinned wickedly, staring over Joey's shoulder. "Time to run, Jo. Here he comes."

"Later." And Joey was gone.

Dawson came barreling up, frustrated once again. "Where did Joey go?"

"I'm staying out of this one, man. Right now she doesn't want to talk to you." Pacey headed for his English class. "See you later, Jen?"

"Sure." Jen smiled.

Dawson had other plans for conversation. "Since when are you two bosom buddies?"

She rolled her eyes. "Dawson, we've been through this with Joey already. Last night Pacey was feeling bad and I was lonely, so we went for coffee and talked. Besides, with you and Joey's budding romance, we're both going to need a friend."

Dawson was floored. "How did you know about that?"

Jen couldn't resist another roll of the eyes. Was he always this clueless? "Dawson, next time you draw the shades, remember that light casts shadows. And that you have a next-door-neighbor."

"Oh." Jen couldn't help snickering at his embarrassment. If she only had a camera.

"Anyway, I'm heading out. See you some other time, Dawson."

"Okay."

Jen realized she was smiling broadly, and couldn't quite figure out why.

"I'll be at your house in half an hour." His voice was so soothing, Jen noted without thinking. She smiled into the phone, picturing him doing the same on the other end, and settled herself more comfortably against the propped-up pillow of her bed, twining the cord between her fingers absently.

"Okay. See you then. I gotta do my homework." She yawned.

"And get some sleep, by the sound of it." She could hear the amusement in his voice, and laughed.

"It's just the homework. Homework always makes me sleepy."

"I know the feeling. I gotta go now. See you later."

"See you." Jen clicked the phone, and lay back, stretching lazily. Homework could wait. She closed her eyes and yawned again, luxuriously.

She was startled out of her thoughts by an unfamiliar rattle against her window, and sat up sharply, opening her eyes. The noise came again, and Jen instinctively clenched her pillow to her chest with both hands, curling into a protective huddle on her bed and staring blindly at the reflection of her lighted room in the window.

And then a blonde head appeared at the bottom of the window, and a long arm pushed it open wide, and a tall body climbed into the room from Joey's ladder.

"Dawson."

"Jen," he said flatly, in kind.

"What are you doing here?" A pit of cold fire was born in her stomach, roaring silently as it turned over.

"I came to take you up on your offer." His eyes were unreadable.

"You what?" The fire began creeping slowly up her throat.

"The night of the pageant. I came to tell you that I accept your offer." He was moving deliberately towards her, and she was shrinking back into the covers instinctively. He didn't seem to her like Dawson, this stranger with the distant eyes who crept into her room to make her empty offers in an empty voice.

And the fire spilled over into her mouth. "I do not believe you," she said flatly, low and cold.

"I'm serious," he said, stopping, standing directly in the middle of her room. Jen felt violated. Emotionally raped; invaded without her permission. He was alien, and she wanted him out.

"That's not what I meant. I know what you want. Joey's going, and so you're thinking you can have it all, aren't you? You think you can have your cake and eat it, and I'll run back to you with open arms to comfort you that you've lost your true love. Think again, Dawson."

"Why not." Not a question, a statement. Why. Not. Jen felt the fire become liquid, with cold, chilling, deadly anger.

"You bastard."

He didn't respond; dully, he studied his shoes.

"You think I can't see through this? You're lying to yourself, to Joey. To me. You're trying to manipulate me because you know I'm stupid enough to still care. Well, I won't stand for it, Dawson. And I want you out. Now."

"What's the matter with you?" he said bitterly. "You wanted this badly enough not so very long ago. What's changed now? Got something going on with Pacey?"

Jen heard a crack, and saw Dawson's head snap back, but for several seconds she didn't connect it with her own aching right hand. "How. Dare. You. Pacey has been nothing but supportive and caring and friendly, Dawson. He is my friend. My good friend. Which is more than I can say for you right now."

"You hit me," he said hoarsely, one hand over the red splotch on his cheek.<

"Out. Now," she repeated, pointing to the window.

And he went, with a bitter glance back and a sharp bang of wood on wood as he slammed the window down.

Jen was collapsed into herself on the bed, her body heaving with dry sobs, her head pounding. Her heart racing. And the echoes of her conversation with Dawson surrounding her.

"Got something going on with Pacey?"

"How dare you?"

"I came to accept your offer."

"Out. Now."

And there was a knock at the door, and he entered. "Hey, Jen. Your grams let me in. Right after she..." She could feel his gaze on her, but she didn't turn around from her curled position facing the opposite wall. "Jen?" he asked finally. "Jen, what's wrong?"

She turned over, heavily, then sat up and stared at him. "Dawson came here," she said dully, still unable to shed a tear.

"What did he say?" he asked, settling onto the end of the bed. "Jen, what did he do to you?"

She sniffed, almost contemptuously, and swiped angrily at her pillow. "He didn't do anything. In fact, I hit him."

"Jen, what happened?" he said softly, sliding one arm around her supportively. Jen felt strengthened; felt the burden lift as he shared it with her.

"He came to take me up on my offer the night of the pageant."

"He what?"

"That was my reaction too. He loves Joey, but he was trying to have it all for himself while she was away. He wasn't being fair to anybody."

"So... What did you say?" he offered up cautiously.

"Called him a bastard." Jen smiled wryly. "And told him to get the hell out."

"Whoah," he said simply. "Intense."

"I know," she said shortly, and was hit with guilt for snapping at him. "I'm sorry, Pacey. It was just so much to handle. I mean, Dawson asked for me back. It was what I dreamed of not so long ago, and it was the thing I thought would make me the happiest girl in the world. And he came into my bedroom. Through my window, using Joey's ladder. To ask for me back. And a part of me wanted to throw myself into his arms and kiss him, and never let go of him again. But it's a part of me that's getting smaller all the time. The bigger part of me said, he's using you. He's lying to himself and to Joey and to you. He'll hurt you. He's not worth it. I couldn't do it. He was like a stranger to me. The man I was in love with, and he was a stranger."

Pacey listened patiently as she paused for breath.

"He's not the person I thought he was, Pacey. He's let me down again. Just when I thought that it couldn't get any worse than him not caring... it does. I'd rather love him from afar than realize that my love was misplaced. And today, I was thinking; maybe, just maybe, I'm starting to get over him. Maybe I can move on and find somebody new. He let me down again, and I don't know if I can take the disappointments any more. Dawson..." her voice trembled. "My gramps...."

"Jen?" he said quietly. It was the last straw.

"My gramps, Pacey... My gramps is dead. My gramps is dead. Pacey...."

"Shh," he was saying quietly, easing Jen's head onto his shoulder as she clutched at his shirt. She could hear him murmuring soothingly to her as he stroked her hair. "Cry, Jen. Let it all out. It's the only way. Let yourself cry, Jen....."

And the tears held back for her grandfather poured out in a bittersweet rush as he held her and soothed her with gentle hands and gentle words. Jen clenched her eyes shut fiercely, and sent one thought out into the forever night.

I love you, Gramps.