She didn't even need to say the words but he waited for them anyway. She stared at him for a moment, eyes sharp as he stared back at him, and she sighed.

"I'm not pregnant."

Pacey wasn't sure what to say. He shrugged. "So I guess congratulations isn't in order."

She raised her eyebrows and laughed softly, turning the pencil in her hand in a slow, monotonous movement. "I don't know," she said. "I suppose a congratulations wouldn't hurt that much."

His voice was quiet, his face turned down as he stared at the table. "Congratulations, Joey."

She swallowed, not sure what she had been hoping for. "Hey, I think parenthood might have come a touch too quick. The Potter family isn't ready for another reckless teenaged mother."

Pacey smiled a little, looking back up at her; her eyes were bright, and he wondered if she had been crying, if she had hidden it from him. "So it leaves you free to go paint the town red with a figure still intact."

"And without the auxiliary maternity dress. I'm so honoured, really."

Pacey stared at her for a moment, his face serious. "I am glad, Joey."

She thought she might choke. "So am I," she said softly.

He shook his head, looking down at the blank notebook in front of him. "But unless you want to use the ugly anticipation of "teen motherhood" as the basis for our project, we remain still with...nada. Nothing. Zip."

Joey sighed, bringing up a hand and rubbing her forehead. "My lack of inspiration comes at the most inopportune time."

Pacey grinned. "And we don't have film-boy here for a helping hand."

Joey returned the smile. "I suppose there have to be pluses to every situation."

Pacey laughed out loud, his face open in exclamation. "You mean Miss compulsive obsessive does spend some solitary minutes without wishing for the prodigal sun to sit down by her side?"

Joey snorted. "Listen and learn, Pacey. If Dawson were here this project would turn into a "new dramatic piece" disguising a blatantly dun-disguisable old, melodramatic piece."

Pacey raised an eyebrow. "Oh it's so comforting to know you place his talents at such high esteem."

Joey shrugged, doodling something unrecognisable on the sheet of paper at her fingertips. "Hey, he created the pedestal, I just sit on it." she looked up, confused. "Or was that the other way around?"

Pacey smiled, laughed softly. "You were hot for him, Jo," he said finally.

Joey took a deep breath and sighed. "True," she admitted. "But this is not a case of the "are-or-were-or-are", Pacey. Note to self, past imperfect was very much present." Again, she looked confused. "Am I even grammatically correct tonight?"

"Certainly not politically correct."

Joey grinned. "Like I said, some pluses. So yes, this small-town girl did harbour...some particular, primarily not sexually based feelings for a certain Dawson Leery. But..." she winced. "That time is very much over."

Pacey grinned. "Yeah, and Tom seemed a suitable replacement." She was annoyingly silent and he gathered more ammunition. "And Steve, and Robert, and Felix..."

"Pacey..." She warned.

"Felix?" he continued, ignoring her. "What the hell kind of name is Felix?"

She glared at him. "I didn't find out his name ‘til the next day," she muttered, and for once he seemed surprised. She smiled smugly. "What, I'm the new role model for virginal perfection?" She saw his look and shrugged. "I felt the need for a ride in the not-so-angelic fast lane." She paused, her eyes suddenly serious as she looked at him. "Let me have that, Pacey."

He looked down, shaking his head. "It's not up to me, is it Jo?"

She smiled. "No, it's not. And the last two conversations we've had are remarkably and far too friendly for my taste. Do you think we could resume our past repartee?"

He nodded, his face blank except for his eyes, which were shining with amusement. "Yeah, the barbed comments are so more our style."

Joey shrugged. "Well, the girl-hates-boy, girl-knows-boy, girl-loves-boy scenario is so overdone. I don't see us developing anything remotely heading in that area for a long time."

Pacey raised an eyebrow. "Don't underestimate the power of fate Joey It could happen."

Joey snorted. "Yeah, the image of you and me in a decidedly-gruesome shared moment has suddenly become appealing."

Pacey grinned. "Personally the image of you and me in spandex seems much better."

Joey winced. "Please. Unless you want me to regurgitate last week's meals on this table, right now, I suggest you drop that infinitely disgusting image before..." She paused, as if studying something that hung in the air between them. "Ew, Pacey," she moaned. "I so didn't need that image in my head!"

Pacey laughed. "Insert sarcasm here. Believe me, Jo, I share your view on the subject. But..." He shrugged. "Stranger things have been known to happen. I mean...for all we know it could be written that the two of us walk out of your room tonight holding hands."

"Yeah, right after the chapter in which I repeatedly beat my head against the table ‘til there're no coherent thoughts left. Okay, that's when I can see it happening."

Pacey gave her a mock-glare. "Take a break, table-girl. We need to spend a few "coherent" moments on this project of ours."

Joey grinned. "So the table comes later."

**************

Joey sighed and closed the book on the table, pushing it aside. She watched Pacey look up at her with a look of equal frustration. "Do you want to take a break?"

"Hello, I'm Pacey, have we met?"

"Ha-ha. Was that a yes?"

Pacey shrugged. "Hey, your sarcasm's on overkill. I was just expressing my surprise."

"What, that I've had a character change and have now, stupidly, let you into my home?"

"No, that you've had a character change and realised the word "break" is actually in your vocabulary." She shot him a glare. "Read this, Pacey. "F". A small letter, relatively insignificant maybe, if it weren't actually a *significant* part of our grades this semester. And yes, Joey Potter has decided to take five minutes off, but it's hardly an amusing scenario."

Pacey gritted his teeth. "You know, the urge to spit something at you is becoming even more appealing."

She was silent for a moment. "Pacey, that urge has been with me for a long time. But since spitting isn't a sport I regularly partake in, I decided to give it a miss. You, on the other hand, are a different case altogether."

Pacey gave her a mock glare. "You have no idea."

Joey rolled her eyes. "Drink, Pacey?"

"Yeah, thanks."

Joey smiled, standing to her feet and raising her arm above her head in a yawn. She looked down at him again, absentmindedly, and saw him staring at her midriff. Embarrassed, she let her arms fall, tugging at her shirt. She saw his eyes dart up to meet hers.

"Yep," she said softly, finally. "Absolutely and positively nothing growing in there."

Pacey looked down hurriedly, his own face red. "Sorry," he mumbled.

Joey turned away, her face flushing as heat rose to her cheeks. "Beer? Water? Juice?"

"Water, thanks."

She nodded to no one in particular, and walked quickly towards the door, stepping through and closing it behind her.

****************************

Pacey rubbed his eyes tiredly, stepping to his feet and stretching tired muscles. He stifled a yawn, leaning against the table and glancing around the room. She wasn't even here so he didn't pretend that his surprise wasn't there. The room had changed. Not that he could really remember what it might have been before. He could count on one hand the number of times he had been up here, but once, once it had been different to this.

There were no soft pastel colours, but a deep blue, with sparse walls. Organised chaos he supposed; and he had always called her a neurotic control freak- her room was anything but. There were clothes slung over the chair in the corner of the room, books on the floor, papers covering the table by her bed.

Pacey shook his head in wonderment. God, she had changed so much. He had seen her with other boys, had seen the relationships and the repercussions, but it was only just beginning to fall into place, how much everything was different. He felt a small tightness in his stomach, as if he were somehow being left behind. He wondered why he hadn't even stopped to examine it until now.

Quietly he moved to the table by her bed, glancing at the books, the papers that lay on top of it, moving with small steps, pushing his guilt aside. He knew he was stepping too far, pushing boundaries he didn't even understand. But something needed to be explained, resolved. He wanted to understand why, how, what, had changed. He realised then he didn't know her at all.

His eyes caught the one pile of collected papers, sheets held with a single clip, and he closed his eyes briefly before he picked them up, pulling them close to his face, breathing deeply.

""Dancing After Midnight," a stage play" he said softly, the only words on the page, apart from Joey's name below. Pacey turned and looked quickly towards the door. He could hear her moving around downstairs and quickly he flicked through the copy to a page near the end.

back to Part One