Dawson opened the door on the first knock and ran his eyes over her, coolly masking any surprise by her visit. "What are you doing here?"

She frowned, her hands fiddling with the belt of Pacey's jacket. "Can I come in?"

He moved aside granting her access and she stepped in assuredly, her eyes surveying his new apartment tastefully decorated in a modern black and white. She could recognize his influence in her own decorating at the gallery and it nearly disturbed her.

She hadn't removed her coat yet and instead gazed around the apartment. He knew that look in her eye, a predator surveying unfamiliar territory. She'd wait until she knew there was no threat before she'd remove her coat.

Her eyes fell on the bottle of red wine on the kitchen counter overlooking the living room. A single wine flute, stood half empty by its side. She raised an eyebrow. "Expecting company? Or have we stooped to drinking alone?"

He ignored her comment knowing she already knew the answer. "Can I take your coat?"

He came up behind her removing it from her shoulders as she arched her back, letting the black material slide down her arms. He inhaled deeply catching a faint whiff of her floral perfume mixed with something else, something stronger; strands of her long, silky hair a sigh against the back of his hand as she tilted her head back. "Thanks."

The warmth of her breath caressed his lips and he could almost taste her on his mouth.

That was Joey, all soft, sweet, and seductive even when she didn't want to be.

Even when she didn't mean it.

He stepped back hanging up her jacket on the coat rack by his door, needing to be away from her and her intoxicating presence. He busied himself at the counter serving himself another glass of wine, keeping his back to her. "Do you want anything?"

She ran her hand along the smooth surface of the mahogany end table and walked over to the large windows that gazed out over the city, its brilliant lights shining brightly in the night. She shook her head watching his reflection in the window. "No."

"Okay, then." He turned around to face her leaning back against the counter. He raked his eyes over her form hungrily, it'd been a while since he'd seen her and the time apart had done her well. Her slinky black dress clung to her body in all the right places, flattering her lithe form.

She'd been out or was going out.

Perhaps, she was wearing it just for him.

He raised the glass to his lips taking a healthy drink. His eyes never left her as he waited for her to speak.

"I hear you're getting married."

He raised an eyebrow regarding her casually. "Jealous?"

"Actually, I'm worried that some girl's about to make the same mistake I almost did," she said turning to him.

He set his glass down walking over to her, and her gaze instinctively lowered. He cupped her chin in his hand gently forcing her to meet his eyes. "Mistake?" he questioned innocently. "As I recall you and I were pretty good together, Joey."

"And was that before or after you let me taste my own blood?" she retorted sharply meeting his gaze evenly.

He dropped his hand, laughing in mild amusement. "I deserved that."

"No. You deserve worse."

"Touché." He walked back over to his glass. "I don't take it you'll believe me if I told you I've changed."

"I've heard it enough times to know it means nothing coming from you," she said stepping away from the window.

"Well, I have." He turned back to her handing her a glass of wine. "They say the love of a good woman can change any man." He smiled dryly.

She winced faintly at the slight dig, accepting the flute from him. "She must be a miracle worker," she commented jadedly as she took a diminutive sip.

"She's a doctor, actually. That close enough for you?"

She sat down on the couch making herself comfortable and leaned forward setting her glass down on the coffee table. "Psychiatrist?" She crossed her legs; her slit opened further revealing more of her creamy thighs, the ones he was never allowed to cross, covered in tan stockings.

"Funny," he said placing his glass beside hers. He extended his hand. "Come on. I don't think you've had the honor of a full tour of the place. You've never been here before."

She begrudgingly took his hand making no comment as he led her into each room, each more ornately decorated than the last, speaking of power and affluence.

None looked lived in.

His bedroom was last.

While he had probably hired a professional interior designer for the rest of the house, he had done this room himself. From, the rich curtains that shielded the large windows, keeping the rest of the world out or keeping him away from the rest of the world; to the simple dark sheets that covered the bed, soft carpeting sunk under her feet. She glanced at the large closet, shut to her prying eyes expecting for him to any minute now, stalk over to it and begin to throw his Calvin Klein's and Giorgio Armani's at her.

"I've heard you moved in with Pacey." He watched her calmly, smiling faintly as her demeanor faltered slightly, glad that he was able to get a reaction out of her.

But when she met his eyes, anything he thought he saw was gone. Maybe he'd imagined it. "Who told you?"

"You have your sources. I have mine."

She felt his eyes on her searching for any discord under her composed façade. He wanted to get to her. She wouldn't let him. She nodded her head in assent. "Fine."

"I loved you, you know," he said breaking the silence that had grown between them.

"No." She shook her head raising her eyes to his, brown eyes piercing. "I loved you. You just felt this sick need to take advantage of that."

He flinched, eyes wounded. "You're f/ucking him, right?" His words were cold, said with just the right amount of repugnance.

"I don't think that's any of your business," she responded shortly moving to leave. His arm shot out in front of her, stopping at the door, blocking her path. She stepped back swallowing thickly. "What-What are you doing?" She could have cursed herself for the apparent waiver in her voice and the unfeeling smile it elicited from him.

"You know that assistant of yours, Lucy, is quite a talker. I think she likes my apartment more than you do."

She pursed her lips together tightly, fighting a chill and went to move forward. "Let me out of here, Dawson."

He continued as he if hadn't heard her. "Told me all about her pretty boss and her new boyfriend, about how she hears them in her office sometimes." He moved against her side, trapping her between him and the door. He lowered his lips to her ear, whispering his next words. "Seems you have thin walls, Jo."

She bit down on her lip to stop it from trembling, her blood running cold as his lips grazed her skin. "F/uck you, Dawson."

He grabbed her shoulders forcibly pinning her to the door, sliding a leg between hers. "You promise, Jo?"

Her eyes widened fearfully but she did her best to keep her voice strong. "Dawson, let me go."

The corner of his mouth curved up into a wry smile. "Good one, Jo. Almost believed you weren't scared there." He ran his finger lightly along the curve of her neck and she shuddered. His smile widened. "But I know you and you're afraid, terrified of what I'm going to do next." He raised her arms, pinning them above her head at the wrist so she wouldn't be able to move.

"I'll scream," she said simply.

"No one will hear you," he said not batting a lash. "This is the penthouse. Besides we both know what you came here for." He leered at her appreciatively. "Did you wear that just for me?"

She stood silent refusing to give him any satisfaction and instead struggled against him. "Dammit Dawson. Just let me go."

He leaned forward; crushed her beneath him, ignored her words. Shut his eyes as he nuzzled her neck. Inhaled the faint scent of her perfume overpowered by the smell of her fear. His tongue darted out to the taste the honeyed skin. "You smell good, Jo," he breathed. "Taste sweet." He raised his eyes to her mouth, brushed the pad of his thumb under her lower lip, watched as it trembled ever so slightly. "Feel so soft," he murmured.

Tears singed her lashes, her brown eyes wide with fear. "Pl-Please, Dawson. Let me go." She was unable to keep the panic and pleading out of her voice. He grinned again, rubbed his thumb softly against her cheekbone.

This was the way he liked her. The way she was supposed to be. He loved her most when she was like this. The Joey that had first entered the apartment was too strong, too cold, too much of a stranger.

"I've always wanted to be inside you, Joey." His words were whispered, soft, belied by the hard look in his eyes. "But, I couldn't. Remember Jo?" His voice dropped hurt. "You wanted to wait until I married you. Wanted to wait to make it official before you took the next step. With me, your soul mate."

His hand drifted down her side, sliding between her legs, stroking her inner thighs with the gentlest of touches. Her soft sobs only intensifying his ache for her. "But you didn't make Pacey wait, did you? He didn't have to promise to love you forever before you spread yours legs for him, did he?" His tone grew accusing. "Did he?"

She shook her head, hot tears burning their way down her cheeks.

"Answer me, dammit!" He demanded.

"N-No," she choked out, shaking her head fearfully anything to get him to stop.

"No," he said quietly, both hating her and loving her at the same time. "He didn't." He removed his hand from between her legs, moving it up to stroke her cheek again, wiping away her tears. "Because you're a w/hore, Jo, aren't you?" he asked sympathetically, stroking her jaw. "You're his w/hore."

She opened her mouth, trying to speak and breathe through tears. "D-D-Dawson stop it. P-P-Please, I'm sorr-"

"Shh," he whispered tenderly. He tucked a strand of brown hair behind her ear. "Don't talk." His eyes fell on her parted lips, quivering weakly as she cried. "You have such a pretty mouth, Jo."

His hand traced the outline of her mouth, passed over the smooth skin of her lips, wetting it with her tears. "Can I kiss you, Jo? Can I stick my tongue in your mouth? Can I taste you?"

She nodded timidly afraid of what would happen if she dared tell him no.

"Good." He smiled sweeping his thumb over her lips before lowering his mouth to hers. He ran his tongue over her bottom lip before dipping it inside her mouth, tasting her warmth. She fought the urge to gag. He broke the kiss after a moment, resting his forehead against hers as he breathed in deeply. He raked his hand through her hair reveling in its silkiness.

"Dawson," she pleaded weakly.

"You were doing so good too, Jo." It was just like her to tease him like this, to make him happy and sad all at the same time. He grabbed her chin in his hand, narrowing his eyes and forcing her to look at him. "But I said, don't talk."

Her mouth fell shut and she sobbed quietly from somewhere deep inside her. Her chest shook with every unstable breath, her nipples barely scraping his chest, burning into his skin. He smiled pleased, his hand drifting to her side again inching her dress up her thighs.

She was soft, so soft, smelled so good, tasted so sweet. She was making him dizzy and hard, unbearably hard. He groaned and moved against her letting her feel his obvious arousal against her leg. "See what you do to me, Joey?" Her weeping increased and he gasped as she struggled against him brushing against his aching c/ock. Throbbing painfully now. Only escalating his need to be inside her.

"I've wanted to be buried inside you. Feel you surround me. So hot. So tight. So willing." His breathing was ragged, his voice coming out broken even to his own ears. "I guess two out of three isn't so bad."

She let out a loud cry at his insinuation and shook her head fiercely, struggling against his hold with new strength as her tears continued to fall. "Please, Dawson. Please don't."

He smirked leveling his eyes on her and reaffirming his grip on her wrists. "Why not?"

"Because I'm pregnant!"

His face fell and he pulled away from her disgusted. "Get the hell out of here, Joey."

She ran crying, heels clicking against the parquet floors of the hallway, the door slammed shut behind her. He stared at the place she'd just been. He ran his hands through his hair in frustration, grabbed a lamp off the nightstand, threw it against the door angrily, blood pounding. He stormed over to the bathroom, slamming the door loudly behind him. Her words still rang in his ears taunting him.

Pregnant.

She was pregnant.

He knelt over the toilet and threw up.

She ran into the apartment slamming the door behind her before heading straight to the bathroom. She inhaled a sharp breath attempting to compose herself somewhat, her hands shaking as she removed the coat she was wearing. The drive home passed in a blur. She couldn't stop the tears that fell unwittingly or her whole body from trembling. She had to pull the car over twice when she felt nauseous, emptying the contents of her stomach on the street.

She wiped at her cheeks viciously, rubbing them free of warm tears that burned their way down her face. She walked over to the shower, turning the hot water on and removing her shoes. She wanted to wash his touch off her skin, wanted to burn away the memory of what it felt like when he touched her…kissed her. She raised the lid of the toilet vomiting at the thought of what it felt like to have his mouth on hers. Tears continued to fall unheedingly and she wiped at them, pulling off her stockings and pushing them away.

Pacey sat up from where he'd reclined on the couch when he heard her enter the the apartment and hurry to the bathroom. He only caught sight of her back as she closed the door behind her. He rose tiredly and headed down the hall, knocking lightly on the bathroom door.

She bit her lip, startled by the sound of the knock and quickly dried her cheeks with the back of her hand. "What-What is it?"

"Nothing," he said through the door. "I just wanted to make sure you're okay. I know you hate it when I ask...but you came through here in a rush and I can't help but worry about you."

She nodded her head softly forgetting he couldn't see her. "I-It's okay. I'm just tired. I'm going to take a shower and go to bed." The lie fell from her lips easily enough.

"Okay. Come say goodnight first?"

"I will."

"Okay," he walked away from the door reluctantly. She sounded fine, but he was unable to shake the uneasy feeling that overcame him the minute she stepped in the door. He opened his bedroom door slowly and began to strip out of his dress clothes, hanging them carefully back in his closet.

Her hands went to the zipper on her side; she slowly slid it down letting the dress fall at her feet. She stepped out of it and quickly pulled off her underwear before stepping into the hot spray of the shower. She winced slightly at the heat but reached for the bar soap and meticulously beginning to scrub her body clean. She stepped out of the shower a half hour later. Her sensitive skin left red and raw. She reached for a towel on the rack, wrapping the fluffy cotton around her body, not even noticing her tears anymore.

Pacey lay back on his bed, the lamp on his bedside table was lit, casting a faint yellow glow over the room. It was still warm out, so he wore his boxers and slept with only a thin sheet for a blanket. He was drifting in and out of sleep as he waited for Joey to come in and say goodnight.

"Heya," Joey said softly sticking her head inside the room. Wet strands of hair clung to her forehead, her body lost in an overly large nightshirt.

"Hey beautiful." He replied, opening his eyes.

She smiled faintly, her eyes still a little red. "Goodnight."

"You going to come inside?"

She shook her head. "No. I don't think so."

He drew his eyebrows together, "You sure, you're okay?" He asked, slipping out of his bed.

Her stomach knotted worriedly and she nodded. "Yeah. I'm...fine."

He frowned slightly and opened his door the rest of the way. "If you say so, you're acting funny." He rested his hand on her shoulder.

She jumped back, surprised by his touch. "I'm just...tired."

"Jo?" he asked.

"What?"

He touched her again and she flinched. "That."

"I told you already. I'm just tired." Her lower lip trembled slightly and she bit down on it.

"Joey," he frowned helplessy.

"I'm going to bed now. Night." She turned around and headed to her room.

He followed behind her, "What's wrong, Potter?" He caught her by the elbow and pulled her to a stop.

She whimpered quietly yanking her arm away. "There's nothing wrong."

"Then why do you act like my very touch is burning you? Joey?"

Her gaze dropped to the floor. "Maybe--Maybe I just don't want to be touched."

"What took you so long coming home?" He asked quietly, changing tactics.

"Nothing."

"Joey, you're worrying me."

She brought her hand to her neck rubbing it wearily. "I'm just tired," she repeated insistently.

He frowned, "Fine, you're tired," he relented. "That doesn't explain why you wont look in my eyes, or why all of a sudden you're scared of my touch."

The tears began to fall and she was powerless to stop them. She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. "I-I don't want to talk about it."

He felt a wave of guilt at her tears, "Okay, okay, Jo." he shook his head. "We don't have to talk about." He raised his fingers to wipe away her tears, but let them hover over her cheek, his eyes pained at not being able to touch her. "Just...let me help...somehow."

Her tears gained momentum with each gasp for breath, her eyes trained to the floor. "I-I was so scared he was going to hurt the baby. So, I-I didn't try to fight him."

He blanched, "He who, Joey?" he asked tentativly touching her face again. "What'd he do?"

"He wouldn't let me go," she said softly lost in her own trance. "I kept on begging him." She shook her head. "But he wouldn't. He kept on touching me, kept on telling me how soft I was, how good I felt...tasted sweet." Her face crumpled up in revulsion and her shoulders racked with sobs.

"Oh God, Jo." He wrapped his arms around her, trying to shelter her from what she'd experianced. He forced back the wave of fury that threatened to consume him at the thought of someone harming her.

"I was scared," she cried. "I didn't even try to fight him because I was so scared of what'd he do to me." Disappointment in herself laced her words. "He-He told me I have a pretty mouth and he asked me if he could kiss me and I said yes. I didn't-I didn't want him to hurt me or the baby."

"Did he?" He asked her softly, fear lacing his voice.

She inhaled a shaky breath. "He-He said I was a whore and-and that he-he always wanted to be inside of me." She bit down on her lower lip, tears streaming down her face. "He-He was going to r-rape me."

'He always wanted...' he ran over her words again in his mind. "Who, Joey?" He asked. Rubbing her back gently.

"He-He let me go when I told him I was pregnant," she breathed shakily wrapping her arms tightly around him, her tears soaking into his chest.

"I'm so sorry, honey." He returned her embrace, feeling his own tears come to his eyes. "Baby, I'm sorry."

"I-I thought I could talk to him. Show him I changed that I wasn't scared of him anymore," she managed to get out through her tears. "He-He knows all about us, Pacey. L-Lucy told him."

"Dawson," he mumbled and pulled away from her. His face was expessionless. He released her and walked down the hall determinedly, his fists clenched at his sides.

She sniffled loudly drying her cheeks as she stared after him. "What are you doing?"

"What's his address?" He called from the kitchen. He rifled through various drawers, looking for the address book.

"Don't Pacey," she said quietly walking into the room.

"I'm going to find him whether you help me or not." He slammed a drawer and opened another.

"You can't Pacey." Her voice rose nervously. "It's not worth it."

"He hurt you." He shook his head. "He hurt you for the last time. I should have taken care of this back in Capeside." He grumbled. He found the address book and began flipping through it violently.

She shook her head determinedly. "He's a lawyer, Pacey. If you go over to his place and do anything stupid he'll just use it against you and you'll end up being the bad guy."

"What makes you think he'll be able to do anything once I'm done?" He questioned, scanning the names.

Her eyes widened before softening. "Pacey please," she said gently. "I don't need you going to jail on me."

"You'll survive without me. But he--he can't get away with doing this to you." He slammed the book closed after finding Dawson's name not in it. "Joey, he hurt you. He could have hurt our baby." His voice broke. "I'm sorry, he can't get away with this. He hurt you." He repeated brokenly.

"I'm okay though, right? I'm standing here in front of you." She moved closer to him sliding her arms around his waist. "And I need you here with me, not in jail." She leaned her head against his back and shut her eyes, breathing in deeply. "I love you too much to let you do anything that stupid."

"Joey..." he whispered pained.

"What?"

He turned around in her arms and hugged her tightly. "I want to do something...say something to make it better."

"You are," she said softly. "Just by holding me like this you are."

"And that's enough?" He asked.

She nodded. "Yeah it is."

"I'm sorry, Potter."

"For what?" she asked quietly.

"For not...being there...to protect you." He frowned into her damp hair.

"It's okay."

"It's not." He shook his head. "And neither is this. Aren't I supposed to be the one doing the comforting?" She smiled weakly. "You know I love you too, right?" He told her, tucking her hair behind her ear. "You're my best friend, and so much more. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Yeah?"

He nodded, "Yeah. I can't stand the idea of him touching you and kissing you and hurting you." He bit his lip at the images those thoughts evoked. "I could kill him."

"It's my fault. I shouldn't have gone. I should've known better."

"No," he shook his head. "No one should ever experiance that and no one deserves it, especially not you."

She sniffled silently. "It's late. Let's go to bed."

He nodded, "Yeah, okay." He took her hand and they walked silently to her bedroom, turning off the lights as they went.

She stood silent lost in her own thoughts as she climbed into her bed.

He tucked her into the blankets of her bed. Kissing her lightly on the forehead, he turned off the light beside the bed.

"Thanks."

"G'night," he said, his voice low.

"Stay with me. For a little while. At least until I fall asleep." Her voice was soft.

"Are you sure?" He asked, stepping closer to the bed. "After--I didn't think you'd want...you wouldn't let me touch you earlier."

"I know. I'm sorry, but I'd really like it if you stayed."

"Of course I will." He opened the covers on the other side of her bed. "I just wasn't sure you'd..."

"I do."

He pulled the blanket over his bare chest and lay back. He sought out her hand between them, and intertwined their fingers together. Taking and giving comfort from the contact.

She moved closer to him, resting her head against his chest and shut her eyes, breathing in deeply. "Thanks for staying with me."

He wrapped one arm around her tightly, desperate to feel her safe in his arms. His other hand held hers. He couldn't think of a reply, so he just held her closer. "I'm scared, Jo." He whispered in the dark.

"Hmm...of what?" she asked sleepily.

"I think I might be in love with you." He whispered slowly.

Her eyes grew wide and she froze unsure of what to say or in what order to say it. "Oh."

He felt her tense beside him. "I don't want to scare you, Jo." He continued quietly. "It doesn't have change anything between us. I just want you to know."

"I-I'm not scared," she managed to get out. She smiled faintly, her eyes watering. "I just..I never thought I'd hear you say that."

He frowned slightly, "I'm glad one of us isn't. Because you terrify me, Potter. And feeling this way..." He stared up at the dark ceiling. "I didn't know how much until I wanted nothing more than to murder him for touching you. I would have done it, Jo. I would have killed for you." He confessed, his voice choked.

She blinked back tears and tilted her head up to look at him. "It's okay..."

He closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to look at her. "How?" He asked, his voice raw.

"It just is," she said softly running her fingers idly over his chest.

He took a deep breath, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"Why not? I have way to much to be sorry for."

"Like what?" she asked quietly tracing an indiscernible pattern with her fingertips.

"Like getting you pregnant. Like letting him hurt you. Like loving you." His brow furrowed, "Like forcing you to have the baby and live with me. Like sleeping with you the first time way back in Capeside. You want more reasons?"

She shook her head. "You don't have to be sorry for any of those things."

He smiled half-heartedly, "You're not very good at this reassurance thing."

"I'm sorry." She smiled and gazed up at him. "Although none of those things are your fault."

"You're wrong."

"Pacey, I'm not wrong." She brushed her fingers over his cheek. "I don't regret anything except the Dawson factor, but not even I could help that."

He blinked, trying to figure out how this incrediably amazing woman had come to be laying in his arms. He kissed her cheek, whispering a soft "I love you" against her skin.

She smiled slightly. "Ryan is starting to grow on me."

"Funny, I was beginning to like Gabe."

She giggled placing an impetuous kiss on his chest. "I had a feeling you were going to say that."

"As long as he doesn't go by Gabriel, I'm happy. Gabe has a nice...sound to it."

"So does Ryan."

"So now you want Ryan?" he questioned, a teasing tone to his voice.

"There something wrong with Ryan?" she asked playfully.

"No..." he shook his head. "You're just confusing, that's all." He smiled, "Nothing I'm not used to though."

She smiled and nuzzled his chest. "Did I ever tell you that I like the way you smell?"

He chuckled, "No. Not in the last...ever."

She grinned. "Well, I do."

He tilted his head. "That's nice to hear," he chuckled. "I tell you I love you, and you tell me I smell nice."

"Did you want to hear 'I love you' back?" She bit back a smile.

He shook his head a little. "No. I didn't really expect it. I said it because I needed to, not because I needed to hear it back." He smiled again, "But I was hoping for a little more than 'I like the way you smell'."

"I like your smile?" she offered glibly.

He laughed again, "Better. But not quite what I was looking for."

"Hmm..." she began climbing on top of him and lowered her mouth to his. "I like to kiss you," she murmured.

"You like that?" He asked after the broke apart, their lips barely touching.

She nodded her head gently, her hair framing her face. "Yeah."

He ran his fingers through her hair. "That's good, cause I kinda like it too."

She smiled lopsidedly running her fingertips over his shoulder and raised her eyes to his. "I like to touch you."

He gave her a half smile in the dark, "And again, that's something I like as well."

"I like to taste you." She lowered her mouth, touching the tip of her tongue to the skin at his neck.

He sighed contentedly at her familiar touch stirring the desire in him. "Hmm, Jo. As much as I love being tasted, it's like, three in the morning and you've been..." His eyes clouded over.

"Shh," she breathed quietly placing a finger over his lips. "Most importantly, I love to love you."

His eyes widened, "You do?"

She nodded. "Yeah, I do."

He smiled, "You amaze me."

The corner of her mouth turned up slightly. "You're pretty amazing yourself."

"So, can I just hold you tonight?" he asked softly, nuzzling her cheek.

She smiled. "Yeah."

"Thank God," he sighed, "Cause I don't want to let you go." He held her tightly against his chest.

She smiled faintly. "Good because I don't want you to."

He hooked his arms around her back. "You tired?"

"A little."

"Hmmm, I'm exhausted."

"Sleep?"

"Will you be able to?" He asked tiredly.

"I can try."

"I'll stay awake with you," he told her.

"You don't have to."

"I want to," he smiled sleepily at her. "But try, cause I don't think I'm gonna last much longer, Princess."

"Okay," she said complacently laying her head down and closing her eyes.

He smoothed her hair gently. She loved him. He smiled to himself, he never thought he'd hear her say that to him again. It had been a long seventeen years since he'd last heard her say those words. He drifted off to sleep with that thought in his mind. His fury at Dawson forgotten for the night.

She worried her lower lip pensively; unable to shut her eyes or get her mind to stop going over the night's events. Every time she shut her eyes, she was forced to relive every excruciating minute of what happened at Dawson's. She blinked a few times fighting off tears. She smiled faintly at the sound of Pacey's even breathing and gradually shut her eyes letting it lull her to sleep.

Pacey rose early the next morning. After holding her for a while, nearly an hour, he slipped from the bed and headed for the kitchen, planning on making breakfast for her. He was cracking the eggs into a glass bowl when he heard her scream. Dropping the egg, shell and all into the bowl he jogged the short distance to her bedroom, hearing her cries all the way.

She shot up in bed and gasped for breath, rubbing at her bleary eyes and pushing back sweaty strands of hair that clung to her face as her room came into focus. She relaxed slightly glad that it had only been a nightmare.

"Joey?" He burst through the door, moving immediatly to her side. "Jo, are you okay?"

She nodded slowly, dazed. "Yeah…it was just a bad dream."

He wrapped his arms around her, brushing strands of her hair away from her face. "You sure?"

"Yeah," she said softly. "I'm sure."

He kissed her forehead lightly, "You want to talk about it?"

She shook her head. "Not really."

Nodding, he let it go. "I'm making breakfast. Any requests?"

She shook her head again. "I'm not really hungry."

"Okay."

She rubbed at her neck wearily. "What time is it?"

He checked his watch, "A little after eight. Not too early."

She scratched the back of her head tiredly. "I should probably start getting ready."

"Ready for what?" He asked, rubbing her back lightly.

"The gallery. I should go Lucy probably won't be in any condition to open today."

"And you are?"

She frowned. "I'm perfectly capable of running my gallery."

"I know you are. I just thought maybe you'd be better off staying at home today. Given all that happened yesterday."

"I don't think I'll be able to stay at home without going crazy."

He nodded, and let his hands fall to his lap. "I know you get tired of hearing this, but what can I do?"

"You don't have to do anything. I'll be fine."

He smiled softly at her, if a little doubtful. "Okay, then I'll just leave you to get ready and finish making my breakfast." He rose from beside her and headed for the door.

She smiled. "Okay you do that."

He nodded and left, his halfhearted smile fading to a frown as he re-entered the kitchen and tried to fish the egg shells from the eggs.

Joey sighed climbing out of bed and headed to her closet pulling out the first thing she saw. She frowned and tossed the clothes on the bed, running a hand through her hair frazzled. She walked over to her dresser and pulled out a pair of stockings tossing them on the bed also. She opened another drawer and pulled out a t-shirt she really didn't need and moved on to the next drawer pulling out a sweater. She slammed the drawer shut her eyes tearing and pulled it open again, frantically repeating the process angrily. She felt so stupid, so violated. She'd been an idiot.

Pacey sighed, and threw the burnt eggs into the trash can under the sink. It just wasn't his day for a hot breakfast. He ran a tired hand through his hair as he headed back down the hall towards his room. Now that he thought about it, he wasn't all that hungry. He paused as his eyes fell on her door, he moved toward it, wanting to check on her...he had a feeling he'd be doing that for a while to come. He still couldn't get over what he had done.

Pacey's anger at Dawson had faded--somewhat, mostly due to her. Now he was just worried at how she was handling it. He frowned, knowing she wasn't being as open with him as he wished. Hopefully though, that caution would fade.

He opened the door to find her standing over her dresser, still in her pajamas. Her hair was hanging limply around her face, and her shoulders were shaking.

Silently, he moved to her side and put a hand on her shoulder.

She jumped back startled, eyes wild and brought a hand to her chest as if to calm her rapidly beating heart. "Don't. Scare. Me. Like. That."

He jerked his hand away as though it'd been burnt. "I'm sorry." He apologized wide eyed, cursing himself for not making himself known before he touched her.

She let out a sharp breath and ran a hand through the back of her hair. She bit her lip, her eyes apologetic. "No, I'm sorry. I-I'm just a little jumpy."

"You have every right to be." He told her, "Just as you have every right to have been crying," he gestured to her moist cheeks.

She wiped at her cheeks with the back of her hand embarrassedly. "I didn't even notice."

He moved around her, cupping her cheeks lightly. "Cry if it helps, Jo."

Her face fell and she blinked back tears. "Why can't I be okay about this?"

"Because there's nothing okay about it." He paused, the pained look on her face causing a pang to shoot through his chest. "I wish I could help," he whispered.

"It's me," she said hoarsely shaking her head.

"What's you?" He asked, his brow knit in confusion.

"It's me. There's something wrong with me," she finished quietly.

"There's nothing wrong with you," he shook his head adamently. "What he did--you have ever reason to be upset."

"I-I should have done something, fought him or I-I don't know, just something."

He wrapped her tightly in a hug, "It's okay, Jo. You did fine. If you'd fought back, he might have hurt you...he might have done worse."

"And what if he had? What if he had hurt the baby? He could have."

"But he didn't." He insisted, smoothing out her hair.

"But he could have and it would've been all my fault."

"No, it wouldn't have. It would be his and only his."

She sniffled. "I-I hate this."

"I know, Baby, I know." He said sadly, rubbing his back.

"I-I don't know what to do now."

"I don't either, honey." He murmured, "I just want to make it better for you."

"I wish you could, I wish I could." Pacey frowned, feeling so helpless. "I should have never went to see him," she said despondently.

"I can't argue that." He told her, holding his unanswered questions undertongue. "But just because you went there, doesn't mean you were asking to be molested."

She frowned. "I think I just want to lay down."

"Do you want me to call Lucy for you?" He offered, his dark blue eyes troubled.

She nodded. "Yeah, can you do that for me?"

"Of course." He kissed her forehead lightly and released her from his arms.

She forced a weak smile. "Thanks."

"Not a problem, Potter. I love you, remember?" He smiled softly at her, knowing she needed to hear the words.

She smiled as she climbed back into bed. "I love you too."

He helped tuck her in, happy to just make sure she was comfortable. "Do you feel up to a visit with the doctor tomorrow, or should I call and reschedule?"

"No, I'll go."

"We'll go." He corrected, pulling down the blinds on the window to block out the light.

"Yeah." She smiled softly.

"If you need me, I'll be in the livingroom." He said from the doorway.

"Okay."

He closed the door behind him and leaned heavily against the wall. He ran a hand over his tired face and headed for the shower feeling absolutly helpless.