Disclaimer: I don't own the song Tomorrow, it's from the musical Annie. And I don't own the song Children's Lullabye, it's by Vertical Horizen.
Dedication: To Maureen, who helped me come up with a lullaby. :) Thanks so much dear! And Dannie for waiting patiently, luv ya Dan! And Heather, tell Charley that this fic isn't dedicated to her.
Author's Note: Part 1 of 1. You may need tissues for this one...
"Come on, Pacey." The young blond boy yelled after his friend as he rode his new bike along the dirt road.
"Slow down Dawson," His short brunette playmate called back from twenty feet behind the enthusiastic eight year old. "Not everyone has a ten speed. " Dawson Leery slowed reluctantly, swiped his brow with one hand and grinned. He loved summer, the only thing he had to do was be home in time for dinner, he spent the days running through town with his best friend, Pacey. The summer was filled with pickup baseball games, swimming, bike riding, reading comics, watching movies, having barbecues, camping in the backyard... and best of all, no school.
"Did you remember to bring Mt. Dew?" Pacey asked, lifting his head so he could see Dawson from under the too large brim of his baseball cap.
"Yep," he gestured to the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles backpack he was wearing. In addition to the two cans of soda were two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, chocolate vanilla swirl pudding and two granola bars.
Dawson turned his bike onto a dirt trail at the side of the road. The tall trees shaded them from the summer heat, the dust caught a few stray beams of light filtering through the leaves, adding a mystical air. Not that the short chubby boy paid attention to such things. The trail opened into a small clearing where he and Pacey dropped their bikes and continued on foot.
The trail grew steeper rapidly and the two boys slid down the trail, ignoring the dirt that collected on their clothes, occasionally throwing dust at one another. As they got closer to their destination Pacey put his hand out to stop Dawson from walking further. "Shhhhh, listen. Do you hear that?"
He shot Pacey a quizzical look, but stopped walking. "Bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow..." He just barely made out the voice of a little girl singing at the top of her lungs. "There'll be sun."
"Whaa...?" He trailed off looking at his friend. Pacey put a hand to his lips and gestured for Dawson to follow. Pacey turned to the left and entered the wooded part of the forest and agilely climbed over fallen trunks and rocks. He went as far as the edge of the woods, where he ducked beneath a fallen stump. He turned back to see Dawson stumble over a bush and fall down next to him.
"Geez, Dawson. I thought you had more coordination than that." He hissed.
"Just thinking about tomorrow, clears away the cobwebs and the sorrow, Till there's none."
Pacey helped Dawson to his feet and they both peered out into the clearing beside the beach. What had been their beach. The trail they had been on led straight to the secluded beach, to one side, a huge pile of boulders, to the other, overgrown rose bushes reaching all the way to the waters edge and to the back, the small forest. The beach was sandy and small, but large enough for the two boys to share happily. They hadn't thought anyone else had known about it.
Apparently they had been wrong. Dawson watched the little brown haired nymph dance along the waters edge, playing tag with the waves as she sung. "When I'm stuck with a day that's gray and lonely, I just stick out my chin and grin and say...." She looked about their age, her brown hair had been pulled back into a braid, but had since fallen loose. "The sun will come out tomorrow, so you gotta hang on till tomorrow, come what may..." The hem of her sun dress had grown damp around the edges and stuck to her skin as played.
Her laughter sung out across the tiny beach as she dropped to her knees by the waters edge and picked up a tiny crab. "The sun will come out tomorrow, so you gotta hang on till tomorrow, come what may...". She sang to it, giggling as it scurried out of her hand.
Her song drifted over the two boys who sat crouched nearby, entranced by the little girl they would both grow to know and love.
"Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love ya tomorrow, you're always a day away..."
Little girl was down by the waterside
The sun so hot and the roses so red where she lie
As little boys sit and watch as she twirls all around
Sunny smiles not a rain cloud could bring that girl down
But now...
Dawson sighed as he closed the folder with a heavy hand. He removed his wire-rimmed glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He sat back in his leather chair and looked around his office. It was large and had a classical feeling to it, wood paneling, a hard oak desk, with landscaped paintings hung on the walls. A Persian rug lay across the floor, where two antique chairs sat across from him facing his desk. To the left were two more of the chairs, a renovated coffee table and comfortable full sized couch on which he slept way to many of nights. Pacey constantly teased him about being a big shot producer working in such an old fashioned office.
His gaze drifted to the huge framed picture hanging over his couch. It never failed to draw his attention. The brush strokes were soft and decisive, some were short and wide, others long and thin. The shading and colors brought to life the scene beside the banks of the creek he had grown up next to, and the people he had grown with. There was an identical picture of the scene blown up and hung on Pacey's office wall.
Dawson's father had taken it the summer before college. They'd been having a barbecue for the Fourth of July, Dawson smiled at the memory. There had been so much laughter that night, their last shred of childhood. The six of them had ended up in the creek, splashing one another and hysterically laughing while the adults looked on smiling. The picture had been taken as they emerged from the water in a line, clothes plastered to their skin, murky water streaming down their grinning faces. It had been an evening to remember.
They'd gone off to college a month and a half later. He still didn't know how they'd lost contact, but they had, within a year. The weekly phone calls to his friends became monthly, then yearly. Letters stopped coming and stopped going. An e-mail came once in a while, with little more than, 'How are you? I'm fine. Miss you. Bye.' By the time they were scheduled to graduate from their respective colleges, Dawson hadn't heard from anyone in a over a year. That's when the package had come.
There was no return address or name with it. He'd opened the large package slowly, reverently. The picture and it's frame had been wrapped carefully and it took him a few moments to unwrap it completely. The first thing he saw was her signature on the lower corner, "Jo". His eyes had begun to sting as he ripped the remaining paper away from the painting. He'd let out a watery chuckle at the moment in time she had chosen to bring to life. He had smiled on the outside, but his eyes, like his insides, had dulled in sorrow upon seeing the relic of a better time.
Mike, his roommate, had returned to their dorm to see him still sitting on the couch, holding the picture frame in front of him. Mike might have said something to him, maybe not, Dawson couldn't remember. He'd just sat there for hours ensnared by the faces he hadn't seen in years and the memories they brought with them.
Overcome with regret, he couldn't move from his seat, nor could he tear his eyes from the happy people in the painting. One in particular. The girl who stood between him and Pacey, her long, wet, brown hair plastered to the side of her face, her large brown eyes dancing in merriment, and her smile wide and happy. The intricate detail of the painting amazed him. She had gotten every last detail of the photo, every image, every emotion. He had always known Joey had talent, he just hadn't known it was this extensive. But he should have.
He let his eyes slide from face to face, Andie... Jen... Jack... Pacey... Joey... and himself, his throat tightened. He couldn't rid himself of the ache in the pit of his stomach as he thought of what he'd been missing over the last few years. Or rather, who he'd been missing. He would be graduating in two weeks, heading off into the world to start his career as a first class studio director, without a friend by his side. Sometime during the last four years he'd lost contact with six of the people who meant the most to him.
He hadn't heard the phone ring, and he hadn't heard his roommate calling for him from the other room. Mike had finally just come into the room and threw the portable phone onto the couch next to Dawson. "Man, what is up with you?" He asked before disapearing back into his room. Dawson looked after his roommate, not really taking in what he was saying. He lifted the phone to his ear.
"He-hello?" He choked out.
"Dawson?" The voice basked carefully.
"This is he," he answered mechanically.
The voice swallowed audibly from the other end of the line, "Dawson, it's Pacey."
"Pace?" His voice a mere whisper.
"The one and only." Dawson smiled to himself. "Long time no speak, man."
"I know, I was sitting here thinking the exact same thing." Dawson replied, smiling at the sound of Pacey's voice as he looked at his face in the painting..
"Listen, D," Pacey began, Dawson could sense the hesitancy in his voice, "I don't want to sound like I don't want to talk to you, cause I do, but I... I need to find Joey. You don't have her number do you?"
"Joey's? Uh, no. I don't."
"Crap." He muttered over the line.
"Why?" Dawson asked, fearing the worst.
"She," he paused, "She sent me something. This poster of us, the six of us. And it reminded me how much I miss her, and you, and everyone. And, well, the package didn't have a return address on it, and I called Bessie and she doesn't know where she's at. So I called Mitch and he gave me your number and now you don't know..." he trailed off.
Dawson was shocked that even Bessie hadn't known where she was. "Ha- have you tried calling Brunhurst?" he asked, referring to her college in Tennessee.
Pacey chuckled over the phone. "I did."
"And?"
"And they didn't know anything, apparently there hasn't been a Josephine Potter attending there for two years." Pacey admitted, Dawson could hear him frown through the line.
"What did Bessie have to say?"
"She doesn't know where she is, she hasn't heard from her in over a year. She never told Bessie she was dropping out either." Pacey relayed the information solemnly.
"Have you talked to any of the others?" Dawson asked, hoping that one of them might know where she's been.
"I keep in touch with Jack on occasion, but I doubt he'd know where she's at. I haven't talked to Andie or Jen in months."
"Never mind, I'm sure one of them would have said something if they knew Joey was dropping out of school, or moving away." They fell into an awkward silence. So much more than time and space separated them now.
The ringing of his telephone brought an adult Dawson out of his reverie. "Hello?" he asked.
"Hey Dawson." Pacey's voice greeted him.
"Hey Pace." Dawson said, allowing a sad smile to drift across his face, still caught in the memories of yesteryear.
"Listen, dinner's been pushed ahead half an hour. It turns out Julia made a mistake at the theater and they're short handed, they're going to need me and Tori before the show." Pacey Witter was now a proud owner of a modest theater in Los Angelus. His old English professor in collage had sold it to him for a paltry sum, calling Pacey his protege. As soon as he had graduated he'd moved west and taken an active role in the small business, bringing the theater out of the red. He and Dawson had stayed in close touch since that fateful phone call five years earlier, reverting back to their best-friendship. Together they had tracked down the rest of their friends keeping them in close touch... all except for one.
"Okay," Dawson agreed, looking a the clock behind his desk, that only gave him half an hour to ready himself. Which wouldn't take long considering all he had to do was leave.
"Okay?" Pacey basked, "What about your date, don't you think you should find out if the time switch is okay with her?"
Dawson sighed heavily, he knew where this was going. "I don't have a date, Pacey."
"God, Dawson." Pacey moaned in frustration, "It's been two months, two months since your last date! Don't you think it's about time to jump back on the bandwagon?"
"No, I don't. Do you remember how that evening ended?" Dawson asked, his voice tight.
"Ummm, was I with Stephani or Danni?"
"You were with Carri." Dawson answered shortly.
"Oh, was she the one with the short red hair and the great-"
"No, that was Tiffani." Dawson reminded his friend, "Carri was the blond with the white miniskirt and red blouse."
"Ehhh, you're right, that was one double date we do not want to relive." Pacey agreed, the evening's events finally returning to him. Dawson nodded on his end of the line. "But come on, D. Don't let one bad date bring you down, you gotta get out there and meet new people, experience life."
"I don't want to, Pacey."
"What's wrong with that new secretary in your building, the Asian woman, with the long black hair? You could still-"
"No, Pacey." Dawson said, his tone severe.
"I bet I could get Tori to bring a friend with her," Pacey offered.
"No, stop it, Pacey! I don't want a date!"
"Why the hell not, Dawson!? What are you waiting for?!" Pacey cried over the line, frustrated with his friends stubbornness.
"I'm waiting for the same fucking thing you are!" Dawson shot back, leaving Pacey speechless. He rubbed the bridge of his nose after his outburst. He continued, his voice no longer laced with anger. His words came out broken and lifeless, "I'm waiting for the same person you are. I don't date for the same reason you date hundreds of women and leave them within the week... I'm- I'm waiting for her."
"Fine," Pacey said after a moments silence. He wouldn't argue, couldn't argue, Dawson's words rang true.
"I'll meet you at the restaurant in twenty." Dawson said quietly and laid the phone back in it's cradle. Unconsciously his eyes drifted back to the painting, to the dark haired, brown eyed girl in the center. "Where are you, Jo?" he whispered to himself, lost in the painting, as worry for the little girl of yesterday overcame him.
What's behind those big brown eyes
Do you dream at night
Without your lullaby
"The sun will come out tomorrow, so you gotta hang on till tomorrow. Come what may..." Dawson's eyes were closed, his head back against the theater seat as he listened to the song. If he tried long enough, and imagined hard enough, he could almost believe the little girl singing on stage was Joey. The way she was just before he and Pacey had stumbled onto the beach, dancing and laughing in a world all her own.
"Tomorrow, tomorrow, I'll love ya tomorrow. You're always a day away..." Dawson sang along with the words, thinking back on the day she had first introduced he and Pacey to Annie.
It was raining, it had been pouring for days. They'd only known her for a few weeks, but Joey fit in with Pacey and Dawson easily, becoming their favorite playmate. Pacey had spent the night, his fifth in a row, at Dawson's house, and they'd exhausted all the games and movies available to them. Mrs. Leery was at the end of her rope and beginning to twitch whenever one of the boys announced they were bored. She immediately dove for the phone when Dawson suggested that Joey should come over.
Joey had brought over Annie, it being her favorite movie at the time. She sang along with all the songs and soon had both boys joining her to become a loud trio. And a trio is what they stayed for ten years.
"Tomorrow, tomorrow, I'll love ya tomorrow. You're always a day away." Only she wasn't a day away, she was years away. It was his own fault, he wouldn't deny that. He had striven to become a director, to reach the fame of Steven Spielburg, never takings his eyes away from his dream. Only to find when he looked around for someone to share in his success, he had lost sight of his friends. His best friend.
He shook his head imperceptibly, trying to shake loose the self-depricating thoughts. They were lodged too deep in his mind to fall away. It had all been for nothing too, he'd never become that world famous director he'd dreamed of, he was far from it. A producer of a broadcasting company, nothing famed about it. He sighed turning back to the show, singing along with the words once more.
Little boy sits alone as he sings in the dark
Wondering if his own dreams had pulled them apart
He sings a song of tomorrow he can never see
Mostly sings of a lost little girl's memory
And now...
As his dreams go rushing by
He begins to hear
A lonely lullaby
Joey Potter stood staring blankly at the doors of the newly remodeled theater, Witter Auditorium. What had once been Hallay Theater was now newly redecorated and complete with a new name. Witter. It was too coincidental to believe. 'I haven't thought about that name in years,' she lied to herself. Hardly a day went by when she didn't think of her childhood playmates turned protectors and then lovers.
The song drifting to her through the propped open doors, allowing the hot air collecting within to escape. 'Annie,' she thought, 'how appropriate.'
"Pacey, where are you taking me?!" She demanded, stamping her foot down, refusing to move another inch until he told her their destination. It was late May during their Junior year, the air was warm and humid, causing Joey's dress to cling to her skin.
"You know, you sure make it difficult for a guy to surprise you." He answered and continued walking down the street, leaving her in the middle of the sidewalk.
"Pacey!" She cried in frustration throwing her hands in the air, before quickening her step to catch up with him. "You'll have to excuse me," sarcasm dripped from every word, "Of course, blindfolding me for an hour long car ride shouldn't give me reason to worry. After all, it's not like it's our first date or anything, now, is it?" she hissed in nervous frustration.
"Jo," Pacey stopped walking, and turned her to face him, placing his hands firmly on her shoulders. "Quit fretting and let me be romantic. I promise, you wont be disappointed." He said gently, caressing her arms.
She bit the corner of her lip, "I don't fret." He grinned and they continued walking along the sidewalk. "Besides, how am I supposed to believe that you can be romantic? The most romantic thing I've ever seen you do is make your Mom a birthday card."
"Glad you have such a high opinion of me, Ice Queen." He chuckled. "Rather than have me regail you with all my romantic endeavors and save us from the awkwardness turning this conversation in that direction would bring. I suggest, that if you really want to know, ask Andie."
Joey laughed, "She's already told Jen and I plenty... Dumbo." She grin wickedly, using Andie's pet name for Pacey. Something she'd made them swear not to ever tell him. Pacey looked stricken for a moment and then joined in with her laughter.
Their laughter died down and she quietly slipped her hand into his as they walked through downtown Providence. A few minutes later, Pacey stopped walking and handed her a ticket. She looked at him confused, then down at her ticket. "Annie," she read out loud. He pointed to the theater at the end of the block, "We're going to Annie?!" Excitement lit up her eyes and she threw herself into Pacey's arms, "Pacey, you remembered."
"Of course I remembered. How could I ever forget the day we first met? Or your passion for Annie? You made Dawson and I watch it at least twenty times that summer." He grinned warmly at her as she pulled away slightly. The street light was dancing in his eyes, enhancing the affection that shone brightly in their blue depths, how could she have ever passed him up? Unable to hold back the outpouring of emotion she felt, she pulled his head down to hers and kissed him with all the love she felt.
Well now
We used to sing
And we used to cry
Through everything
In our child's lullaby
"When I'm stuck with a day that's gray and lonely, I just stick out my chin and grin and say..." The high pitched voice sung from the depths of the building as Joey Potter listened from outside. She was tempted to go in and listen through the doors to the show. She'd done it before. She hung her head, the memories of the past conflicted with the person she was now.
It was stupid, leaving college like that, not telling anyone where she had gone. She doubted they thought much about her now. Bessie probably took her for dead. Dawson and Pacey... they would never forget her. Just like she had never forgotten them. They were a part of her, ingrained in her soul. All her life, she had loved only two men.
She wondered if they ever thought of her. What their lives were like. Pacey would be twenty-seven now, Dawson twenty-six. They probably had families now. Dawson would have two boys, one named Elliot of course, with his shaggy blond hair. Pacey would have a little girl, to be the apple of his eye. She'd come complete with his wide smile and chubby cheeks. Joey smiled to herself, picturing their families... the women they married remained faceless. She could really only picture either of them married to one woman...
'Whoever they're with, they better be treating them right,' she thought, forcing her regrets out of her mind. She instantly felt guilty, she had no rights to them. She gave those up when she'd cut off all contact. 'Their wives would never do what I did.'
She looked up once more to the sign above the theater, Witter Auditorium. She was going to her apartment from the Julaine Gallery, where she worked. As a janitor. She shook her head, how had she ended up like this? None of this was what she wanted when she was younger... She wanted to be happily married at 26, with a child or two and a healthy career. Returning to Capeside every Christmas and visiting with Bessie and all her friends.
She hadn't been back to Capeside in seven years, not since spring break of her sophomore year. Closing her eyes against the flashing lights of his name, she could block out the inner city sounds. Almost hear the gurgling of the creek, smell the unique scent of Capeside in the spring; crisp, clean wind, wild flowers and cut grass, all mingled with the salty air.
Bessie would have killed her if she'd known she'd left college. They never would have found her body if she had told Bessie why. She'd been stupid and naive. Drawn into a scam, and from there... a downward spiral.
The Student Gallery was showcasing her work. Her art was mostly based around Capeside, the places and people she knew. There were one or two abstract pieces, but mostly landscaping. Her art teacher had given her such glowing praise, and had recommended her work for the University gallery. Reluctantly she'd given over twelve of her paintings to be shown with the work of ten or so others.
At that moment she was desperately trying to work up the nerve to enter the building. The nervousness kept rising, no matter how hard she tried to force it down. She would have given anything to have Dawson by her side right then. They'd spent every waking moment of last spring break together, rekindling their romance for the two weeks they were home from college. Despite the fact they had agreed to keep it on the surface and break it off once they went back to school, the connection that had always existed between them had grown stronger and couldn't be denied. She needed him to be here for this.
Raising her head high, she forced a smile on her face. He'd be proud of her, that thought gave her the nerve to take the first step forward. She pushed open the doors to the gallery. It was funny how she hadn't thought about him for months until now. Until she needed him. She vowed to call him when she got home, it had been so long since she'd talked to him or Pacey... or any of her friends. With that promise made, she entered the main gallery, full to brimming with artsy types dressed in dark colors, unimpressed looks plastered on their faces as they appraised the work.
Immediatly, Joey headed for the refreshments and took a glass of champagne. Alone, she began to make the rounds. Taking time to really look at the other artwork she hadn't had a chance to experience yet. There were sculptures, oils, pastels, chalk, and ink drawings. All good, with the exception of a few pieces. Continuing around the room brought her to her own work.
For the first time, she attempted to view the paintings with fresh eyes, seeing them for the first time. The colors, the brush strokes, the emotions all came out at her again. The feelings and thoughts she experienced while she painted came back to her as she studied them. Then there, at the heart of her work, was Capeside. The warmth, familiarity, the desperation to leave... conflicting emotions detailed so carefully in her work. Memories long since lost in the past came flooding back upon each painting.
There was one is particular, that held her attention the longest. She analyzed every brush stroke she had made, every color she had used, every expression... It was titled "Innocence". Six dripping wet teenagers emerging in a line from a murky creek. Their hair plastered to their faces, clothing hanging limply from their bodies, and wild, happy smiles on their faces. A moment like no other, captured for eternity.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" A deep voice rose from behind her. "The emotion the painter uses, the muted colors bring the landscape to life. It's extraordinary." She turned in surprise, to find herself face to face with Samuel Bourdford. The man that would change the course of her life forever.
Little girl on the street with nobody around
Has her head in the air dirty feet on the ground
She shuts her eyes and wonders is this a mistake
Now she's gone from the warmth of her little boy days
And still...
That had ended in disaster. Samuel had promised her fortune, fame and her own gallery. All she had to do was pick up and leave, move across country with him to California... and she'd done it. Pacey had always told her she was too gullible. Now, she'd proven him right. She dropped out within days, packed up and moved. She never told anyone where she was going. Desperate to prove to the world that she was somebody, only later to find out she was only trying to prove to herself that she wasn't little Joey Potter of Capeside anymore. But that was too little too late. So she left college without a word to anyone, not even her roommate. She didn't want their disaproval.
She should have known there was a reason they were going to disapprove. Weeks later he abandoned her, leaving her clothing, paints and a few of her paintings in a sleazy apartment. No money, no job, no one to run to. She'd failed at life outside of Capeside. She'd failed at life.
She'd always dreamed about getting as far away from Capeside as possible, she'd been a success in that aspect. California was a continent away from Massachusetts. Her dream hadn't encluded being a failure though. It was her worst nightmare, she could handle being alone. It was the failure that brought her to her knees.
If she had wanted companionship, she could have easily gotten it. A phone call to Bessie and she would have wired money for a return flight to Boston. Dawson was a mere four cities away, he would have gladly come to her rescue had she asked. But she didn't. Pacey had also always told her that she was too stubborn for her own good.
It wasn't about her family or friends though. It was about proving to herself that she had what it took to make it. To rely on herself and not the people in her life. Only then, could she truly be happy. So vowed to make it on her own. Promising herself she'd return to them once she'd become someone.
With a new resolve she went out and interviewed all over the city, mostly in art galleries and studios. She'd only been offered one job. At the Julaine Gallery, as a janitor. It paid the rent, fed and clothed her though. Seven years, she'd lived in the one bedroom apartment that continued to smell like burnt popcorn no matter what she did to combat the stench. Seven years of her life gone in what seemed like a flash. Once, and only once did she make contact with Pacey or Dawson. It was about the time they were all to have graduated. They were graduating, she should have been.
She sent Dawson a painting she had done. Her favorite. And Pacey the picture she had based the painting on, blown up to poster size. She'd meant to give them the hope she'd lost somewhere along the line. Sometime in those seven years she stopped trying to be Joey Potter, girl with a bright future and became Josephine Potter, woman just trying to get by without screwing up.
That's what was keeping her from her past. She couldn't go back until her future was brighter than the life she lived back on the cape. She wasn't going to go back to Dawson and Pacey and Alex and Bessie until she'd made something of herself. Maybe it was time to strive for success again. She missed them, her friends and family, but she wouldn't go back without something to show for it. She couldn't go back unless she'd proven to herself that she could survive on her own. She had to give meaning to her long years of absence. Then, and only then, would she allow her self the reward of seeing them once again. Loving them again.
She had to do it on her own, otherwise she'd never be happy with herself. "Thank you, Pacey." She whispered, looking back at the flashing lights of Witter Auditorium. Even when he wasn't in her life, he was still able to point her in the right direction. Just his name reminded her of everything she was missing, it gave her hope again. "I'll see you soon." She continued walking down the street to her apartment. Her step lighter with an added bounce, an added resolve.
"The sun'll come out tomorrow, so you gotta hang on till tomorrow... come what may..." She smiled, the childlike voice drifting through the night air after her. She could hang on until she made something of herself. Maybe not tomorrow, but someday soon, she'd go back to the ones she loved.
She believes that she'll get by
Alone without
Her little boy's lullaby
"Tomorrow tomorrow, I love you tomorrow... you're always a day away." Pacey rose from the seat suddenly, the bottom of it flipped up to hit the back with a dull thud. Without looking back at his companions, he shuffled to the back of the theater, shoulders weighed down, head hanging. The voice of a little girl rang in his ears. Not the voice of the little curly red head on stage belting out the words to reach the ears of those in the balcony. But the soft whimsical melody falling from the lips of a brunette, her hair tied in a loose braid, the hem of her golden dress dripping saltwater onto the moist sand as she danced and twirled.
Dawson looked up, his eyes following the dejected figure as he moved through the double doors. Terri or Tina or Tanya, whatever her name was shot him a worried look. "Let him go," he whispered turning his attention back to the musical being acted out in front of him. "This play holds too many memories for him." He muttered. The woman turned back to the actors with a shrug of her petite shoulders. Dawson let the show envelope him, the words and emotions spinning a web around his heart, bringing with it the memories from his childhood. He embraced them with a smile.
'That's the difference between Pacey and I,' he thought, as he slipped into the memories, 'I want to remember. He doesn't.'
Pacey shrugged off his evening jacket as he climbed the stairs to his office, unlocking the door he threw the jacket over the arm of the chair facing the desk. The room itself was small and cramped, located in the clock tower above the main entrance of the theater. There was a large window facing out into the street, two chairs, a computer and a desk. The walls were a dark cream, the floor made of hard wood. He switched on a light, bathing the room in a warm glow. It wasn't much, but it was his. The first thing his eyes sought out was Joey.
Her smiling face radiated out to him, her eyes crinkled in happiness as she smiled at the camera, one wet arm around him, the other across Dawson's shoulders. He slammed his eyes closed against the image before he could be overcome by the memories and emotions her face brought back.
He shook his head, why had he thought having Annie play in his theater was a good idea? In some deluded part of his brain, he'd thought maybe it would be cathargic. Maybe it would help in the healing process. He should have known he wasn't ever going to heal. A person just doesn't forget about Josephine Potter and a person just does not fall out of love with her.
God, how he hated loving her still. There wasn't a day that went by where her face didn't pop into his mind. When he didn't relive some part of their history. He'd been kidding himself for seven years, just like Dawson said, he was still waiting for her to come back into his life. Late at night, lying alone in bed... and even when he wasn't alone, he'd daydream about her. That all of a sudden, one day, he'd find her smiling on his doorstep with an amazing story to tell. Outrageous explanations for why she had walked out of their lives and never made contact. Sometimes it was amnesia and she couldn't remember who she was. Or she'd gone on a trip and her plane had crashed in the jungle or remote island. They always ended the same, he'd hug her and kiss her, and she'd tell him she still loved him.
During the day he locked away his dreams in the back of his mind, only to bring them out again the next night. He indulged in them freely in the sanctuary of the dark night, the shadows would keep his secret. He thought of it as his bittersweet punishment for ever letting her go. During the day he fooled himself into thinking he was over her. He dated, so he couldn't still love her. He had sex, so he couldn't still be waiting for her. He laughed and smiled and joked, so he couldn't possibly be walking around with only half of his heart, right?
He took a shaky breath as he sunk into his old worn chair. He was a fool. A fool to think the wounds Joey left him with would ever heal. There were no scars, only burning and aching and bleeding. 'Time doesn't heal all wounds,' he thought bitterly. He was a fool to think he'd be able to sit through Annie without her by his side.
~*^*~
"Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love ya tomorrow, you're always a day away." The little girl on stage didn't quite have red hair, but it was close. She looked a little older than Annie should have been, but he didn't mind. His attention was on the seventeen year old woman beside him, her eyes sparkling with pleasure. Her lips moving seductively as she sang along silently.
She caught him looking at her and smiled, leaning closer to whisper into his ear. "Thank you," She slipped her hand through his before turning back to the show. He squeezed her hand in welcome. He couldn't believe he was really there, the warmth of her hand seeping into his blood, the smell of her perfume intoxicating his senses.
That's when he knew he was in love. In that moment he realized that her mere presence brought him complete under utter fulfillment. It was love, when all it took were two words from her to make his heart soar.
~*^*~
He sighed again, trying not to hear the sound of the music drift into his office. He clasped his hands tightly, his knuckles turning white under the pressure. He leaned forward in his chair, his elbows resting on his knees, his forehead touching his thumbs. He didn't remember when he started to pray. It wasn't until after she'd disappeared, he knew that much.
Funny enough, it was Jen who suggested it. Late one night after he had spent an hour voicing his fears and worries to her over the phone.
"Pacey, I'm sorry." She'd said.
He groaned, "I just feel so helpless, Jen! I've tried everything to find her. Hell, Dawson even hired a private detective before it got too expensive."
"I know, Pace." She whispered, unable to come up with words to comfort him.
"I feel like I should be doing something! She's out there, who knows where, all alone, for who knows what reason, and I'm sitting here, safe and warm and the only thing I can do is worry about her."
"I know Pacey. You never were one to sit by and wait for things to happen."
"So what can I do that I haven't already done? This inactivity is driving me insane!"
She was silent for a moment, "You could pray for her." she said softly.
"What?" He questioned in disbelief.
"Pray. It's what my Grams would tell you do to. If you can't watch over her, ask someone who can to do it for you."
"You don't even believe in God, Jen. Neither do I. Neither does she, for that matter."
"I know, but who's to say for sure that He doesn't exist? What harm can it do? And on the off chance that He does exist, then you've got someone looking out for her."
"I think I'll pass." He said.
"Suit yourself, it was just an idea."
"Thanks anyway." He sighed, looking out the window. His eyes involuntarily searching the faces of people as they passed.
"Pacey, I know you don't want to hear this-"
His usually friendly voice became hard. "Then don't say it."
She ignored the warning tone, "But you need to move on, forget about her-"
"No."
"But Pacey-"
"No! You don't see Dawson giving up on her, do you?"
"I've told him the exact same thing, Pacey. She obviously doesn't want to be found. And she obviously isn't waiting around for you guys to come back into her life." Pacey sighed but let her continue. "I miss her too, Pace, just as much, well, maybe not quite as much as you and Dawson, but I still miss her. But you've got to understand that when she abandoned college, she abandoned us too. She left Tennessee and she left us."
"Good bye, Jen." He muttered.
"Just think about it Pacey. And try the prayer thing, if nothing else, it might make you feel better."
"I will, talk to you next week?"
"Yeah, bye Pace." He'd hung up the phone, a deep frown etched on his face. It was the last time he talked to Jen for over a year.
Sometime after that, he'd started praying. At first he felt like a fool talking to thin air, but as the months went by and his desperation grew, it got easier. Now, several years later, it was as natural as breathing.
"God, It's been awhile... a whole twenty-four hours," he smiled grimly. "Take care of her for me. Make sure she's eating right. Making the right choices, I need her to be healthy. Most of all, please makes sure she's happy. Please, if she's not a part of our lives, make sure it's because that's what makes her happy.
"She'll never admit it, but she needs someone by her side. She needs someone to talk to, to encourage her, to support her. To tell her she's doing the right thing, and that no matter what, her best is good enough. She needs someone to love her.
"Let her know that her family and friends miss her. That we want her back. Give her the courage, or strength, or money... whatever it is she needs so she can come back to us. I need her." His voice grew raspy. "We need her. I can't go on like this, waiting day by day for her to come home.
"It's killing me..." He was silent for a few minutes, his eyes squeezed tightly against the sting of tears.
"Just, please, God, send her home." He whispered brokenly, "send her home."
Little boy prays to God to answer his song
To hold her hand when everyone else's are gone
Time goes by and the wounds slowly turn into scars
So he makes his final wish on the midnight stars
And he screams...
Little girl wont you hear my cry
Wont you come back home
To your lovers lullaby
His eyes opened and drifted involuntarily to the photo hanging framed on the opposite wall, sending a ripple through his heart. There was a hollow cavity aching in his chest where she should have been. Frustrated with his own weakness he stood and walked to the window. Standing straight, his hands clasped tightly behind his back, he let his eyes drift out over the darkened city.
Intently, he stared into the shadows, hoping against all hope that she was hidden somewhere in their depths. It was another of his habits, to look for her wherever he was. He peered into every face he passed looking for her, he scanned every room he entered for her tall frame. He never once admitted that he was looking for her, if he had, there was no way he could continue pretending that his wounds had healed over.
He shook his head against the sting of tears. What was the point anymore? Pretending only got him through another day where she didn't come back to him.
A movement in the shadows across the darkened street caught his eye and his heart jumped to his throat. His eye brows drew together as he followed the figure with his eyes. It was a woman, he could tell that much by the curve of her chest as she walked away. His breathing grew shallow as he watched the swing of her hips as she moved away. The woman had Joey's walk and he thought her hair was dark. His hand reached for her, meeting the cold glass, he lay his palm against it. He ached to call out to her. He squeezed his eyes shut against the compelling urge to chase after her.
"Joey!" He bolted from his office and trampled down the stairs, putting himself in serious danger of breaking his neck. Reaching the bottom floor he dug his feet into the carpeting of the lobby and raced out past the ticket office. His employees exchanged mystified looks as their usually cool and collected boss ran by them a frenzied look in his eyes.
He shoved open the door and took off after her. The woman was no where to be seen. His head flew from side to side as he scanned the street. Nothing. He took off running down the direction he had last seen her. "Joey!" His voice echoed strangely off the brick walls of the buildings around him. "Jo-ey!"
Then there she was, light from as street lamp enshrouding her as she turned a corner at an intersection two blocks ahead of him. He hadn't thought he could run any faster, but seconds later, he was behind her, placing a hand on her thin shoulder. She didn't turn to face him, but froze, her body grew stiff as board. "Joey?" He questioned, pulling his hand away.
Fear that this wasn't the right woman, shot through him like ice. His eyes drifted shut as he swallowed the lump in his throat. Why couldn't he just give up? She was never going to come back. He done this one too many times. The women he stopped in the street were never her. The pitied looks they gave him as he shakily apologized and explained that he thought they were someone else, only served to make the ache inside him grow worse. He feared that one day the disappointment would be too excruciating, that one day he'd have to stop loving her. How do you stop something that's as natural as breathing?
You stop breathing.
This was that one day. His lungs had already emptied themselves of air, his face contorted as he fought the tears collecting in his eyes. The words of apology he'd spoken hundreds of times, to hundreds of women in the last seven years were stuck in his throat. He could feel his heart shrivel to nothingness in his chest, there was nothing left of him. Every woman he approached took what little was left of his heart and walked away with it, this woman would take his last shred of hope, leaving him empty.
He heard the woman turn to face him and then a sharp intake of breath. He swallowed with difficulty before opening his eyes. Wide chocolate brown orbs met his, her warm red lips open in astonishment. He stood fused to the cement, he swayed as the balance of his world shifted. Her mahogany hair was shorter than he'd last seen it, pulled back away from her face. There were dark circles beneath her eyes, eyes that still gleamed vibrantly, as tears now gathered beneath her lashes.
"Pacey...?" she mouthed his name. She looked almost the same as he remembered her. It was minutes before he could get his vocal cords to function again.
"Joey." He uttered, his voice breaking.
Tears cascaded down her face as she shook her head from side to side, "Oh, Pacey..." She whispered her purse fell to the cold cement. Her arms wrapped around his middle squeezing the air from his lungs. She buried her face into his chest, her hot tears seeping into the cotton.
Dumbfounded he stood there, scared to touch her and find it was all a dream. After a few moments he tentatively touched her, intoxicated, he then held her with all the tenderness and strength he possessed intent on never letting her go again. He absorbed the feel of her as a man dying of thirst does water. The emotion rocked him to the core, causing his body to tremble in her arms.
She was back. It was all he could think. She was back. Back where she belonged, back with him. In his arms, in his life, in his heart. It felt like hours before he loosened his grip on her so he could see her face. She looked up at him, her half smile stretched on her face, causing his heart to constrict and his eyes to sting.
His heart ballooned at the thought of seeing her smile forever. He could live the rest of his life happy just watching her smile. She tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, causing his heart to skip a beat. It was a mannerism he'd had memorized since he was ten years old. "Pacey," Her voice struck a chord in him, there was nothing quite as unique as the sound of her voice, "God, I missed you."
"Me too." He couldn't help but pull her into his arms again, he need to feel her, reassure himself she was real. Her soft hair tickled his nose as he inhaled the aroma, he pulled away slightly, a hand cacaressinghe side of her face, the feel of her skin caused the butterflies in his stomach to flutter manically.
Her hand rose from his shoulders to mimic his, she slid her index finger along his jawbone, leaving a trail of white hot fire on his skin. She caressed his lower lip with her finger before replacing it with her lips. His barrage of thoughts flew chaotically as her lips met his, whirling around and around in his mind, before fading away into the passionate haze that overcame them.
Her whispered words penetrated his consciousness, "I still love you."
Pacey forced his heavy lidded his eyes open, his vision swam and he forced his eyes to focus. He stared through the window and back down to the street. He watched as the woman with Joey's walk melted into the darkness. His hand slowly slid down the window pane in sync with the single tear that drifted down his face.
Little girl down by the waterside
Good bye
The End
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