Pacey rubbed the bags under his eyes as he drearily made his way down the hall to their bedroom. He scratched his head tiredly, kicking off his shoes as quietly as he could so as not to wake Joey. He'd spent another long night at Thunder Down Under. Max's idea of bringing women into the establishment was paying off, their cliental had almost doubled. Add that to the flu incapacitating half of the strippers, Thunder Down Under was horribly understaffed. Leaving those remaining to carry the weight.

He opened the door to the room quietly and sighed, the bed never looked more inviting. He pulled his shirt over his head and unzipped his jeans, but forgot to remove them. He climbed into bed, grateful for the warmth, and settled into the covers, hoping not to disturb Joey.

Joey's eyes slowly opened and she glanced at the clock on the bedside table with yawn. "Did you just get in now?" He mumbled something that she assumed to mean yes. She frowned sitting up a bit. "It's really late."

He turned his head so his face was no longer buried in the pillow, "I know."

She sighed. "How long is this going to last?"

"I donno," his mouth opened wide in a yawn. "We lost Dave to the flu today too. Max hired two new guys," he yawned again, "but they're still untrained. Not that they're enough to replace the rest of the guys." He sighed, "They want me back by noon."

"That's insane."

He yawned yet again, "I know. I figure I can squeeze in four or so hours of sleep and then spend the rest of the morning with you before I go back."

"You don't have to do that, just sleep until you have to go back."

"But I miss you." He murmured. "And real, non-greasy food."

She smiled. "I miss you too, but you need sleep."

"Sleep's overrated." He mumbled into the pillow.

"You're tired."

"Hmmhmm," he agreed.

"Sleep." She leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek, running her hand along the stubble of his cheek.

"Hmmm," he smiled tiredly, his eyes drifting closed. "Wake me at nine? I'll make breakfast."

"Not going to happen."

"Ten?"

"Later."

"Love you." He mumbled, shifting closer to her on the bed.

"I love you too." She sighed, watching as he fell quickly into an exhausted slumber. He'd been running on empty for days now.

Joey sat back in her seat a hand resting on her belly as she chewed on a carrot. "It feels like I have a watermelon buried between my legs, I always have to go to the bathroom, my ankles are swelling and I never get to see my fiance anymore."

Caitlyn Brown chuckled at the younger women's exasperation. "And the watermelon between your legs is responsible for Pacey's absence?"

She shrugged. "It's like all he does is work all the time and if he's not working he's sleeping."

"Why's he working so much?" She asked.

"They've been understaffed."

"So, it wont last forever then." She paused thoughtfully. "Is that all that's bothering you?"

She nodded. "I've gotten beyond the beautiful women, really."

"The beautiful women?" She asked, her eyebrow arched in confusion. "The patrons?"

"And the other women strippers," she said with a nod.

"There are women strippers now." Caitlyn nodded in understanding. "And that bothers you."

"It used to bother me," Joey corrected.

"And it doesn't now?" She asked disbelievingly. "Why not?"

"I'm secure in my relationship."

"So it doesn't bother you he's a stripper? It just bother's you that he's never home."

She nodded. "Right."

"Joey..." She didn't say anything more. In her time as Joey's psychologist, she'd learned that gentle pressure was the way to get her to elaborate on her feelings.

"It just doesn't bother me...as much...anymore...it doesn't."

"Than what is bothering you?"

"Well, maybe it does bother me," Joey conceded. "Just a little bit."

"What part? The long hours? The women? Or the fact that he takes his clothes off for a living?" She asked gently.

"Oh, who am I kidding? All of it bothers me. It's all terrible," Joey cried burying her head in her hands.

"Joey," she stood up and moved around the chair to sit beside the woman who'd become a friend. "It's okay to miss him. And it's okay to be jealous of the women who get to see him more often than you do. And it's most certainly okay to wish he'd do something more productive with his life."

She sniffled and raised her head wiping at her cheeks. "I don't know what to do."

"Have you tried talking to him about it?"

She shook her head. "No."

"That's the first step, Joey." Caitlyn smiled softly, rubbing her arm reassuringly, "Are there any other options for him? Why'd he choose stripping for an occupation?"

She sniffled. "He used to write, but he stopped."

"Write, like for a newspaper?"

"He wrote a book."

"Any good?" she asked conversationally.

She smiled faintly. "Yes."

"Why'd he stop?"

She shrugged. "He said he lost his talent."

"Do you believe that?"

She shook her head. "No."

"Is there a reason you don't believe that? Or do you just want there to be?"

"He still does write. I've found things on our computer," She admitted.

"What does he write about?" Caitlyn was genuinely curious, Pacey hadn't really seemed like the type to be a writer..

"Everything. Poems, short stories, non-fiction, some are just reflections on life, like essays," she paused, "There's even something about me."

"I think, Joey, that if you believe he has enough talent to make a living from it, you should talk to him." She shrugged, "Maybe he just needs someone to believe in him."

She sighed. "I don't know if I should do that..."

"Do you really think he should be a stripper all his life?" Caitlyn asked.

"I guess not..."

She rubbed the brunette's arm gently, "Don't let it get to the point where it's all you think about anymore, okay? Otherwise, when you finally decide to talk to him, it's all just going to boil over."

She nodded. "I'll remember that."

"On to other matters." She smiled, changing the subject. "How do you feel about Dawson now, Joey?"

"I--I haven't really thought about him recently."

She nods, "Good. As much as I hate to say it, I think this is going to be our last session Joey. At least as a paying customer. I'd like us to remain friends though."

"So I'm cured?" Joey teased.

"Sadly, it is so." She smiled, "Not that there was anything wrong with you. You just needed some help dealing." She winked, "And I think I've helped all that I can."

She smiled. "Thanks."

"It's been my pleasure. And I'm expecting an invitation to your wedding."

"You can count on it."

"I still think you should talk to him." She added, rising and offering the pregnant woman a hand.

"I will."

"Give me a call when baby Witter here decides to make an appearance, okay?"

She smiled. "Will do." Joey pulled Caitlyn into a hug. "Thanks for everything."

"You're welcome dear." She walked her to the door, "If you ever want to do lunch..."

"I'll call you," Joey finished for her.

She smiled, and impulsively hugged her again. "Good luck, Joey."

"Thank you."

Caitlyn closed the door behind Joey, her smile fading as she went back to her desk. She arranged her items on the desk in preparation for her next client, all the while wishing the best for Joey and her fiance.

Pacey blindly dropped his keys on the small table by the door as he entered their dark apartment late that night. He let out a deep sigh at finally being home. He moved toward the kitchen, his stomach rumbling in hunger, but before he got to far his stomach turned over nauseatingly and he decided he'd be better off skipping dinner.

He moved quietly to the bathroom and washed his face, grimacing at the redness in his eyes. He wrinkled his nose as he felt a sneeze coming on. It was quickly followed by two more and he groaned to himself as he wiped his nose.

Switching off the light, he dragged himself to the bedroom.

Joey yawned and opened her eyes, letting them adjust to the darkness. "What time is it?"

"Four," he mumbled quietly, his voice scratchy. He stumbled by the bed, getting caught in his pant legs as he tried to remove them.

"In the morning?" She yawned again.

"Yeah," he regained his footing and pulled his shirt over his head, letting it drop to the floor. He sneezed again and groaned as he rubbed the aching muscles of his shoulder.

"You're sick?" she asked concerned.

"No," he shook his head tiredly and lifted the blankets of the bed to slide in beside her. "Not sick. Can't be."

She placed her palm on his forehead and frowned. "You feel a little warm."

"'M not sick," he told her. "You're just cold."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not cold."

"Okay, but I am." He held out an arm to her under the covers and moved closer to her side of the bed.

"Pacey, honey, I can't sleep with you if you're sick."

"I'm not." He said petulantly.

"I think you are."

"I'm not...I can't be." He sniffled. "Because they need me, so I can't be getting sick. I won't let myself."

Joey grimaced. "I don't think you have much choice in the matter."

"Sure, I do." He replied, trying unsuccessfully to get comfortable. "It's all will power. And I'm willing myself not to be sick."

"That's not going to work."

"Yeah, it will." He yawned, "Worked so far hasn't it?"

She sighed. "Maybe you should take the day off."

"I can't..." he mumbled, closing his eyes tiredly. "They need me."

"But you don't want to get worse do you?"

"I wont, 'cause I am not sick."

"I don't care if you think you're sick or not, you're not going to go in."

"Am too."

She narrowed her eyes. "You are not."

"I am..." He grimaced and threw the covers off himself and made a bee line for the bathroom. He knelt over the toilet as his stomach heaved and emptied itself of the little bit of food he had eaten that day at work. He sat on the cold linoleum floor of the bathroom for a few moments, trying to will the pounding in his head away.

Slowly he stood up and flushed the toilet. He used the mouth wash to rinse the taste from his mouth and he slowly plodded back to the bedroom.

"Joey?" He asked, a pitiful look on his face. “I’m sick.”

She sighed and climbed out of bed. "Lay down. I'll sleep in the other room."

"No, stay with me, please?" He moved to his side of the bed.

She frowned. "Okay...You're still not thinking of going in now, are you?"

"Maybe I'll be better in the morning."

"Pacey," she said warningly.

"I wont go in," he relented with a pout. Lifting the blankets, he climbed back into the bed with a shiver.

She smiled faintly and climbed into the other side. "You better hope I don't get sick."

"You wont," he sighed, "Our luck couldn't be that bad."

"It's not the end of the world."

He was quiet for a few moments, "Jo."

She turned her head. "What?"

"I'm cold."

She sighed and pushed the covers off. "I'll go get you an extra blanket."

"I'd rather just have you." He mumbled, watching her move around the room through tired eyes.

She smiled grabbing a blanket from the closet and covered him with it. "Just concentrate on getting better."

"Jo..." he watched her climb back in beside him, "Are you sure this is what you want?"

"What?"

"Taking care of me for the rest of your life?"

She smiled. "I don't think the flu is a life long illness."

"I know, but being stuck with me will be."

"I'm not stuck with you. I want to be with you because I love you."

"Even when I'm sick? You do know I act like a baby when I'm sick, right?"

"And how is that different from how you normally act?" Joey teased.

He stuck his tongue out at her.

She grinned. "Love you."

"I don't believe you," he pouted.

"And why don't you believe me?"

"I donno." He replied, wrapping an arm around her, he pulled her to meet him in the center of the bed.

"Well, I do. I'm head over heels in love with you. You're the only man I want to spend the rest of my life with and the only man I want to have children with." She smiled. "And all that other stuff."

"I hope you know what you're getting yourself into."

"I do."

"Good," he curled himself against her body and shivered again. "Then I love you too."

Pacey walked into the living room late the next morning to find Joey on the computer, the keyboard resting on her belly as she used the mouse to navigate the computer. "How can you use it like that?" He asked, his voice raw.

She smiled faintly and shrugged. "I just can."

He moved forward and dropped an airy kiss on her head. "We have any soup?"

"We should." She tilted her head to gaze at him. "Want me to make you some?"

"No, I'll do it." He shook his head. "You rest."

"You should rest," Joey said placing the keyboard back on the desk before standing up. "I'll make the soup."

"Jo," He gave her a look, "You're eight months pregnant. I have a little cold, I can make the soup."

"But I'm perfectly capable of making it, you're sick. You shouldn't have to make your own soup."

"Honey, you're being silly. I can handle a can opener and a stove."

"Yeah, well, news flesh, so can I."

He chuckled, "Can you believe we're arguing over who gets to make soup?" He took her hand, "Come on, we'll do it together.

She rolled her eyes and pulled away, walking back over to the computer. "Fine. Go make your soup then."

He turned to the kitchen with a sigh, which turned into a hacking cough. "God, I hate being sick," he grumbled to himself, turning the stove on.

"I could've made the soup but noooo, he has to go and be stubborn," Joey muttered looking down at her stomach as she listened to him in the kitchen. "Pfft, men. I changed my mind, don't come out anything like your father."

"Jo, you want any?" He called from the kitchen, ignoring the scratchiness in his throat. Using the can opener, he cut open the lid and promptly sliced open his finger with it. "Oww." He turned the cold water on and stuck his hand beneath it, watching the pink water swirl down the drain.

Joey groaned and stood up. "What did you do now?" she asked as she walked over to the kitchen.

"Nothing." He replied, turning off the water. He ripped off a sheet of paper towel and wrapped it around his index finger.

"Oh yeah, that sure sounded like nothing," she said as she stepped into the kitchen.

"Just cut myself, that's all." He admitted, moving back to the can of Campbell's soup. After fishing out the lid, he dumped the contents into the pot and added a little water.

She smiled faintly. "I thought you could handle a can opener and the stove."

"Technically, it was the can itself that got me."

"Uh-huh..."

"I didn't profess knowledge of handling soup cans." He pulled out a wooden spoon from the drawer and used it to stir the soup.

"Aww my poor baby."

"Are you being sarcastic?" He asked, "Because if you are, I have--" he was interrupted by a sneeze attack. "I have nothing." He sighed tiredly, turning away from the stove.

"Go lie down. I'll finish up the soup."

"I hate being sick," he grumbled.

"I hate you being sick too. You should be in bed."

"I'm fine." He pouted.

"Bed. Now."

"I'll go as far as the couch," he relented walking into the living room and flopping down over the arm, his blanket wrapped tightly around him.

"You're far too stubborn."

He groaned, resting his hand over his stomach. "I seem to remember a certain someone who refused to let anyone else open a jar of pickles for her and spent an hour trying to get it open."

"I'm just tenacious." She smiled sweetly as she brought the soup over to him.

"Right, and I'm just obstinate." He replied, taking the soup from her and sitting up. "Thanks."

Joey sighed as she sat down. "You know if this kid ends up anything like us, he'll never listen."

He chuckled, "He'll listen. Won't you?" he said to her stomach. "Just not when you're right."

"But you forget an important thing..." She gazed down at her belly. "I'm always right."

He smiled, "Yeah, and one of these days, I'm gonna learn to actually listen." He lifted the spoon to his mouth and gently blew on the steaming liquid before swallowing it.

"Yeah, hopefully you won't kill yourself first."

"What's that supposed to mean?" He asked.

"If I hadn't made you stay home you would've went to work today. I don't need you killing yourself on me. Your son might like to meet his father."

"Last I checked, stripping isn't exactly a dangerous occupation."

"Well, with the hours you've been working..."

"Jo? What is it?" He asked.

She sighed. "Nothing."

"Hon, it's not like you to beat around the bush." He told her, watching her carefully as he ate his soup.

"It's really not important, stupid actually."

"Nothing that's bothering you is stupid, Potter."

"Well, this is."

He arched an eyebrow at her, "Now I'm really curious."

"Like I said, it's stupid." She stood up. "Want more soup?"

"No...I'll be lucky to keep this down." He leaned forward and put the bowl on the coffee table. "Joey, please just talk to me. This is why we had problems before." He added softly.

"I think you should quit stripping," she rushed out.

"Quit stripping? Why?"

"See, told you. Stupid." She headed back to the kitchen.

He rose and followed behind her. "Joey, why do you want me to stop stripping? If it's because of the women..."

She frowned. "It's nothing. It's the hormones."

"Joey." He started coughing again for a few moments, then cleared his throat. "Please talk to me."

She shrugged. "I guess I just don't feel comfortable with you stripping anymore." She winced.

His brow furrowed, "Why?"

"I don't even know why I brought this up."

"Because, it's obviously bothering you."

"I'm just being selfish that's all."

"It may be the medicine I'm drugged up on, but I'm not following you here, Jo."

"I don't like sharing you with other women." She sighed. "I don't even have a right to ask you this."

He shook his head, "But...you knew that's what I do."

"I know...That's why I shouldn't even ask."

He watched her, still confused by the suddenness of their conversation. "You should be able to ask me anything, Jo."

"But this is different."

"Yeah, maybe." He shrugged, "but I'd like to think you and I can talk about anything." She frowned. "Jo, I can't stop stripping. We need the money."

"But can't you do something else?"

"Like what?" He asked, "I'm trained for nothing."

"That's not true, Pacey. You're an incredible writer."

He shook his head, "Don't, Joey."

"What?"

"I don't want to hear about this talent you think I have. It doesn't exist."

"That's not true."

He shook his head, "It is."

"It is not. I've found what you written on the computer."

His brow furrowed, "You read it."

"Yes."

"That doesn't mean it's any good."

"But it is."

He shook his head and refused to look at her. "It isn't, Joey. I don't have talent. In anything. Stripping is all I know."

"That's not true..." She shifted uncomfortably.

"Joey, If you think I should leave my job because of writing...I just can't."

"Fine."

"So...are we done discussing this?" He asked.

"Yes...I guess."

He moved closer to her and enveloped her in a hug, "Joey, I'd do anything for you. But, this doesn't make sense to me."

"I told you it was stupid but..." She bit her lip.

"But what?"

"If I'm going to be this uncomfortable with it maybe we shouldn't..."

He took a step away, "Are you saying I have to quit my job or we..."

She chewed her lower lip nervously. "If I ask you to quit, you're going to resent me and if you stay, then I'm not comfortable with it and maybe it'd just be best."

"And you could just let go...that easily?"

"No, but maybe it's just better in the long run."

Pacey stepped back from her. "Who's long run? Yours or ours?"

"Ours..."

"What's better for me in the long run is you."

"Well, I don't know what to tell you."

"I think you said enough," he muttered turning away. Wrapping the blanket tighter around himself, he headed to the guest room.

Her eyes watered. "Pacey don't be mad."

He turned around, his eyes unyielding. "What do you expect me to be, Joey?! You just told me I had to choose between you and the only thing I know how to do. That you'd leave me if I don't. What did you really expect?!"

"I'm sorry," she sniffled wiping at her cheeks. "Just forget I said anything."

"No. I can't." He shook his head, "If you feel that way...then I can't ignore it."

She bit her lip. "I don't want to fight."

"Then what do you want?!" He cried, "I don't understand, Joey!"

She winced slightly drying her cheeks hurriedly. "I take it back. I didn't mean it."

"God, Joey." He made a disgusted face, "I'm not Dawson. Don't back down from me." Her eyes widened in surprise and she took an unsteady step back. "You have a spine, Potter, use it. Nothing you can say is gonna change how I feel about you." He paused, pursing his lips. "It looks like our relationship may change anyway."

"I just don't want to fight," she said quietly.

"And I don't want you to hide what you're feeling."

"I--okay..."

"Okay?"

She nodded. "I won't hide what I'm feeling." He gave her a look imploring her to go on. "So just forget what I said before." He frowned with a heavy sigh and walked away from her. Her face fell. "Please don't be mad."

"How can I not be?" He said as he walked away, "You're closing yourself off to me."

"I'm not closing myself off."

"Bull shit."

"Pacey, I told you how I feel already."

"But you wont tell me why."

She pouted faintly. "It just bothers me."

"You know, I told Shane about this. And he assured me that it was all in my head, so I let it go." Pacey spoke, still clearly angry. "Why did you agree to marry me if you felt this way? If you still feel this way and can't even bring yourself to talk about it!?"

"Well, that was before I went days without seeing you!" Joey responded agitated and she braced a hand on her lower back.

"This is temporary, you know that!"

She glared and threw her hands up in exasperation. "Fine. If this what you truly want to do with your life then do it."

"This isn't want I want to do with my life! But this is what I have, okay? This is what I know how to do!"

"That's not true." She placed both of her hands on her back. "But if you're not even willing to try then maybe I shouldn't be with you!" Her eyes widened surprised that she was even able to say the words.

"What else am I supposed to try, Joey? I. Can't. Write."

"Well, tell that to The Boston Globe because you have an interview on Friday." She bit her lip. "And it's really just a formality because they just want to meet you, if they're planning to employ you but I guess you're going to have to tell them that it'll just interfere with the lucrative career of removing your clothes for a living!"

"W-what?" That had thrown Pacey for a loop. "What on earth are you talking about? I don't have an interview on Friday. I've never even talked to anyone at the Boston Globe."

She bit her lip nervously. "Well, I did. Jack kind of helped me submit some of your writing and they liked it."

He narrowed his eyes at her, "What did you send?"

She winced slightly. "I don't remember."

"And they liked it?" His face was contorted in shock...and hurt.

She nodded slowly. "Yes."

"I don't...explain this to me. What exactly did you do. What'd they say?"

She shrugged awkwardly. "Well, I read somewhere that they were looking for a human interest columnist, so I just kind of applied for you and they called and now they want to meet you."

He took a deep breath. "Why didn't you ask me?"

"I just figured you wouldn't believe me if I said you had talent," she said plainly.

"I wouldn't have." He replied honestly.

"You don't have to do this. You can always turn it down."

He let out a deep sigh, "I don't know. I need to think about this..."

"Still mad?"

"I-I don't know." He replied, his eyes convoluted as he mulled over what she had done, and what it meant.

She frowned. "I'm sorry."

"I need to think, Joey," he repeated, backing away as he felt a headache tear through his skull. He turned after a few feet and walked into the bedroom.

Pacey closed the bedroom door behind him hours later. He made his way into the livingroom, he didn't hear her moving around anywhere. "Jo? You still here?" He scanned the room and found her laying on the couch, an arm resting protectivly over her stomach.

He moved around the couch and sat on the edge of the coffee table facing her. Her eyes were red from crying, and he could make out the tear stains on her cheeks. Instantly he felt a wave of shame for being the one who put them there.

"Hey, baby." He murmured touching her stomach lightly. "I'm sorry for making your mommy cry. We just had some stuff to work through." He sighed, "You'll learn that Mommy and Daddy don't communicate very well sometimes. We don't mean most of what we say. I promise, we're not going to seperate...I think." He traced an aimless pattern over her stomach. "I can't wait for you to grace us with your presence, I think your mom's even more anxcious. You're making life pretty hard on her, keeping her up all night with the kicking. I'm not much help either, I'm not exactly being the best fiance.

"How about we strike up a deal? We'll both make a concerted effort to be nice to Mommy, huh? I'll stop being an assh--a jerk," He corrected, "And you stop kicking her ribs, okay?"

Joey smiled faintly and slowly opened her eyes. "I think you had it right the first time."

He turned his head, "Yeah, I did. But I'm not going to use that word in front of him. Did I wake you?"

"It's okay."

He withdrew his hand, "I, uh, gave Max my two week notice."

Her face softened and she smiled weakly. "Okay."

"I'm sorry, Joey." He frowned, "I just, I haven't been thinking here. We're going to be a family soon and I can't keep stripping the rest of my life...you're right."

"So, you're not mad?"

"No, I am." He smiled faintly, "But you were thinking of all three of us when you did what you did. Where as I was just being selfish and stupid amoung various other colorful adverbs."

"It's okay."

"You just scared me, Potter." He told her, taking her left hand, "The only regret I had in asking you to marry me was that I felt like you were holding something back from me. And today...was the evidence that you were."

The corner of her mouth turned up sadly. "I'm sorry."

His mouth twisted into a frown, "Yeah, well." He sighed, "I just want you to be open with me, Potter."

"I just didn't feel right asking you to do that."

"Maybe that's my fault for making it seem like working at Thunder Down Under was more important than you are, than our family is." She sighed quietly and managed a faint smile. "I'm sorry, Jo. You're supposed to be able to come to me about anything."

"It's okay," she said reassuringly.

"The more you repeat that, the more I don't believe it's true."

"Well, it is true."

He looked down, "Okay."

She placed a hand against her belly. "He'll be here soon."

"Yeah," Pacey lifted his head with a small smile. "Have we chosen a name yet?"

She smiled. "No."

"I think Gabriel Ryan is a great name."

The corner of her mouth turned up slightly and she gazed down at her belly. "Yeah."

"Just so long as I can call him Gabe."

"Gabe's fine."

He lifted her hand and kissed the back of it. "I'm sorry."

She smiled weakly. "It's okay. It is."

"I don't feel like it is."

"It is. I'm just a little distracted."

"You wanna talk about it?"

She shook her head. "I was just thinking."

"About what?" He asked softly.

She lowered her gaze. "Dawson..."

"Dawson." He swallowed, "Okay..."

"It's just what you said before..." She narrowed her eyes pensively. "It just made me think about some things."

"I-" his mouth fell open, "What I said before...Joey. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"But it's true."

"What part?" He asked with a sigh, fearing whatever revelation she was about to make.

She frowned. "It was all my fault."

"Joey, no...it wasn't. Please, don't think that."

"It was."

"No, Joey. Dawson is responsible for Dawson. What he did was his own fault. Please, believe me." He frowned sadly, watching the pain in her eyes.

"I could have done something."

"Honey, you didn't know." He squeezed her hand.

"I knew the way he was," she said simply.

"Jo," he caressed her hair, "I thought you worked through all this?"

She stared up at the ceiling lost in her own thoughts. "I--I had a roommate in college. Her name was Samantha, and she was really smart and pretty...Dawson got her pregnant." She frowned. "Dawson and I were dating at the time. I remember being so mad at him, I broke up with him when I found out."

Pacey's eyebrows drew together. "Dawson has a kid?"

"Samantha wanted to keep the baby b-but Dawson made her get rid of it. I remember coming home and finding her. She felt so guilty and depressed over what happened, s-she took some pills." She bit down on her lip as she began to cry. "Then Dawson came to me that same night and said he did it for me. He loved me too much and he didn't want to have children with anyone but me. And I just sat there looking at him in horror, because I really couldn't believe he'd sit there so unaffected."

"Oh God, Joey." He knelt on the floor and took her into his arms, "I had no idea."

"I asked him, how he could say those things. How could he not care?" She inhaled a shaky breath. "And he said why should he? She was just a slut trying to come between us and the baby probably wasn't even his.

"I couldn't even think after that. I just jumped on him and I smacked him. I called him a bastard. I said all these--all these hateful things. How I could never love him and how I didn't want to be with him. That's when he hit me, hard. I almost blacked out when I hit the wall and he asked me how I could be so stupid. Couldn't I see how much he loved me? He just did it for me. Why did I have to be so ungrateful?" She laughed bitterly.

"Why'd you go back to him, Joey?" Pacey asked softly, trying to squelch the fury he felt for Dawson.

"And I just stared up at him. He'd never hit me before and then I think he realized what he did because he started crying and apologizing." She smiled wryly. "He didn't mean it and it was Dawson, and I didn't know how to say no. I believed him."

"Joey, I'm sorry. I'll never be like that, if anything I said or did would even make you think that I'm like Dawson...I'm sorry."

She couldn't help but cry. "I wish I had told him no."

"Me too, honey. I wish you never had to go through any of this." He rubbed her back. "I'm so sorry. I wish I could make it better."

She wrapped her arms tightly around him and buried her face against his neck. "I love you, Pacey and I'm sorry if I don't tell you everything."

He could feel her hot tears against his skin and it made him ache, "I love you too. So much." He caressed her hair, "I don't need to know everything, Joey. Just the things that matter. The things that hurt you."

She kissed his cheek. "I love you, okay? Just know that."

"I do," He nodded solumnly. A smile curved the corner of his mouth, "This would be where I kiss you senseless. But the last thing we need is both of us sick."

She smiled. "You're right."

He face went serious again, "Jo, nothing's ever gonna make your life with Dawson okay, is it?" He asked sadly.

"It was never 'okay'." She smiled sincerely. "But my life didn't start and end with Dawson. It's not going to and I'm not going to let it. It's something that happened and maybe it'll always bother a small part of me, but it's not going to define me."

He smiled in response. "Potter, If it's possible I think I love you even more." He kissed her forehead.

"Well, I'm a very loveable woman." She smiled.

"You are," he nodded, "I'm just so amazed at your strength, after everything you've been through. After everything I've put you through." He smiled, "If you love me half as much as I do you, I'm gonna die a very happy man."

She smiled. "I love you and sometimes it's hard to believe that you love me too."

"I do," he smiled. "And thank you for being the smart one in this relationship."

"I'm not that smart."

"Yeah, you are. Next time we have a fight, remind me that you're always right, okay?"

"Okay." She gazed down at her stomach. "Gabe here is our witness. I'm always right."

He smiled, "You still tired? I think I'm gonna knock myself out with some cold medicine. I need to be healthy for my interview Friday, right?"

The corner of her mouth turned up. "Right."

"So, you wanna take a nap with me?" He asked with a sweet smile.

"Of course."

He stood up and held out both hands to help her sit up, "This kid's getting big, isn't he?"

"I'm getting big," Joey groaned as she stood up. "I look like a whale."

"You look beautiful."

"You have to say that."

"But I don't have to believe it, and I do." He continued to hold her hand as they walked down the hallway.

She laughed. "That really doesn't help your case much."

He shugged and kissed her temple, "Had to try." She smirked at him. "But, for the record, you look nothing like a whale. No fins, no tail...certainly no blow hole."

"Haha."

They moved into the bedroom, "When do you wanna get married?"

"I guess we can wait until after Gabe is here."

"How long?" He asked, walking to the nightstand and uncapping the bottle of NyQuil and taking a huge swallow.

She shrugged. "Maybe April."

"Spring wedding...sounds perfect." He smiled.

"We'll have a lot of planning to do."

He shrugged, "Can't we just foist that on Bessie or something?"

"Uh-uh." She shook her head.

He pulled back the blankets for her, "Hmm....so, let's say tentativly for April and if it seems like more work than we can handle with our new addition, than we can move it back."

"Right." She nodded climbing into bed. "Maybe I should schedule an appointment with Caitlyn. I mean, I'm agreeing to become Mrs. Pacey Witter."

He smiled and leaned down, kissing the tip of her nose. "You must be crazy, sweetie."

"Certifiable."

He moved to his side of the bed and climbed in, sliding close to her. His hand found the curve of her belly, "Remember our deal, Gabe." He murmured, causing Joey to smile. "'Night, Jo," he leaned up and kissed her neck.

"Good night," she sighed contentedly.