My Today, Your Yesterday
Disclaimer: I don't own them; I don't know anyone one that does. Oh, some executive producer at some TV station does, but I don't know them! ^_^
Synopsis: Doug Witter is scared of what he is. He's been running away from it for years but when he is cleaning Pacey's restaurant he finds something that consoles him and makes him strong.
*
"Filth," Doug muttered as he stepped into Pacey's kitchen, which was piled with saucers, pans, plates and glasses.
Sure, Pacey had become increasingly busy with the re-opening of the Ice House but that was no reason to leave everything lying around. He half suspected, as he began running hot water in one of the three large sinks, that Pacey had left the kitchen deliberately in this state for him to come and clean it. It was hard to prove, as Pacey was generally a slob with or without Doug around.
It was nearing closing time and Doug had come around for a bite after work with a few fellow cops, all of which had gone home at least an hour ago. Doug wasn't even sure why he stayed, but he decided it was because he had no one to talk to at home so he might as well have no one to talk to at his little brothers busy restaurant.
One of the young waiters came banging into the kitchen to deposit more plates and seemed startled when he saw Doug put on a fresh pair of rubber gloves.
"Sheriff Witter? Er… the boss is in his office," he said slowly, eyeing the gloves with certain distrust.
"Thanks Corey but I wasn't looking for him," he smiled and looked at his hands. "I was just going to lend a hand cleaning up."
At that moment Pacey came through the door, "Mr. Witter. Sheriff Witter," Corey said and scooted out, going to collect more plates from the late diners.
"Douggie! How's my very happy big brother?" Doug threw him a greasy. "Today's weather was very gay."
"If I had my gun here, I'd shoot you," Doug said deadpan, feeling the heat rise in his face. It had been strange this feeling, he had usually associated it with anger but he couldn't relate to that anymore. He felt compromised by the statement, embarrassed and unveiled. But he couldn't let any of that show. He wasn't ready for anyone to know this, least of all himself.
"I know," he said then looked at his brother hands. "I wasn't aware this was a crime scene," he said good-humouredly chuckling at the gloves.
"Ha-ha, very funny. You know for a minute there I thought I was doing you a favour," he teased flicking some soapsuds at his little brother, trying to distract him from repeating earlier conversation.
"Yeah, huge favour bro. But now that you've got the gloves on and the incredible experience that I'm sure you want to prove, you've got to clean my shirt and the floor as well," Pacey said straight-faced. "We can't have this place looking like a pigsty," he paused and leaned into to Doug and whispered, "We wouldn't want the cops finding out."
Doug couldn't help but laugh at the humour that was his little brother. But he was still conflicted by his own feelings of anger for Pacey for always trying to out him. 'Not that I have to be "outed" from anything', he made himself think.
He shook his head and turned back to the dishes with pasta entrails and dumped them in the mammoth dishwasher but proceeded to wash the wine glasses even though Pacey told him not to worry.
The noise level outside the kitchen was dying down as Doug could hear. The dishes were done and he stacked them in their shelving space and began to sweep the floors. It was Friday night and Pacey had his regulars to chat to, using his gift of the gab to entice them back.
The door swung open and Corey re-entered. "Like some help Sheriff?"
"No thank-you Corey," he said. "Do you need a lift home?"
"It's Capeside Sheriff," he said with a sly smile. "Hardly crime central."
Doug laughed. "I guess that makes my job slightly redundant."
Corey looked uncomfortable. "Er…"
"Don't worry about it kiddo," he said. "Go on, get out of here."
"I'm on for another half an hour. Mr. Witter will kill me."
"I'll take over," Doug said. "It's Friday night, go grab a movie, stay up late," he said then added. "But not too late and don't wander the streets."
"Goodnight Sheriff, and thanks," Corey said going to the storeroom to grab his jacket. "Can you lock up the storeroom?"
"Sure thing."
"The key's are in Mr. Witter's office. Second draw on the left hand-side."
Doug smiled and left through the back to empty the rubbish into the huge dumpster. Replacing the bins back in the kitchen he proceeded to go down to Pacey's office. He was glad that Pacey had finally done something worthwhile, something that ran with his idea of giving back to the community.
The office, not to Doug's surprise, was a total disaster. There was a mountain of papers on the desk and menus lying all over the place. He guessed that Pace would be a little while longer and decided to give him a nice clean office to come back to. After all, it would make running the place a lot easier.
He made his way to the desk and started to stack and file away the sprawled menus, the business cards, the contract deals, the advertisements, the license for dealing alcohol all in their respective places. He found a few empty folders and labelled each one for him, putting them in the otherwise empty drawers.
Taking the keys out of the second draw on the left-hand side, he replaced the receipts from customer and other business in collective bunches by months.
Reaching down to open the draw beneath, just to see what was in, he found that it was locked. Puzzled by this, his eyes instantly fell on Pacey's keys. He was looking for something small and bronze. His hand settled on just what he had been looking for. He leant down and placed the key in the hole then stopped.
He was a law enforcer and he was breaking conduct by prying into someone's business. But after all, it was just Pacey. No doubt it was just a stack of porn magazines. Doug sighed. The draw was locked. It was probably locked for good reason but secrets weren't really a Pacey thing. If something bad happened, sure, he wouldn't tell you straight away but you find out eventually. But Doug knew what it felt like to carry a secret, which was hoped to remain just that.
Decidedly, he turned the key and pulled the draw open. It didn't look like much. Papers on top, then he pushed them aside. Photos of Dawson, Joey, Jen, Jack, Andie. There were photos of his senior year and some less and more recent. There was another stack of paper underneath and he pulled them out.
Homework, tests, newspapers.
'Pacey had kept all of this?' Doug thought wildly sifting through. There was something that made him look twice. An old crumpled piece of paper with water spots dotting it here and there. The name at the top of the page wasn't Pacey Witter…
…but Jack McPhee.
He read the poem:
Today, by Jack McPhee
Today. Today was a day
The world got smaller, darker
I grew more afraid,
Not of what I am, but of what I could be.
I loosen my collar to take a breath.
My eyes fade.
And I see...Him.
The image of perfection.
His frame strong, his lips smooth.
And I keep thinking, 'what am I so afraid of?'
I wish I could escape this pain,
But these thoughts invade my head.
Bound to my memory, they're like shackles of guilt.
Oh, God, please set me free.
Free from this pain and this guilt
So that I may face
Tomorrow.
Doug stared at the paper and felt his own eyes blur at the words written. This was the poem. This was the poem that Jack was made to read out in class. The poem that "outed" him. He remembered Pacey coming home that day furious of what happened. He had gone back and yelled at the teacher, Mr. Peterson and must have kept the poem. Or maybe Jack didn't want it.
He read over it again and then quickly put the stuff back into Pacey's drawer in the correct order as to avoid suspicion. He took the keys and locked the storeroom. Suddenly his mind was full of thought.
'Why am I so scared?' he though. 'Jack was fifteen when he came out and look how happy he is.'
Doug sat down on one of the benches. His mind was swimming. He understood all that Jack was saying. He knows the feeling Jack felt. But one thing Jack hadn't mentioned was that feeling of being totally alone. The pain that Jack spoke of was the same, very real pain that Doug had been feeling for so long. It gave an instant lurch at being recognised. He felt like he was going to be sick.
But somehow that poem comforted him in a way nothing had ever in his life. There was understanding, reassuring, not just in the words but in the person who Jack is now.
Doug got off the counter as he heard Pacey walking his way.
"You cleaned up my desk man," he said with a smile. "Thanks."
"Anytime little bro," Doug said and play punched Pacey's arm.
"Why are you so happy? Does cleaning things out make you feel good?"
Doug smiled. "Yes," he said grabbing his jacket, "It feels better than you'll ever know Pace."
Doug made a mental note to thank Jack.
*
A/N: what did you think? Bad, good? I wrote this coz I noticed that there weren't many out there about Doug, and he's so cute!!! If you didn't notice, I am in love with Jack!!! lol!! Is it worth doing a chapter with Jack and Doug?? Anyways, thanks for reading!!
Rock on!
Phoenix Firefly
Disclaimer: I don't own them; I don't know anyone one that does. Oh, some executive producer at some TV station does, but I don't know them! ^_^
Synopsis: Doug Witter is scared of what he is. He's been running away from it for years but when he is cleaning Pacey's restaurant he finds something that consoles him and makes him strong.
*
"Filth," Doug muttered as he stepped into Pacey's kitchen, which was piled with saucers, pans, plates and glasses.
Sure, Pacey had become increasingly busy with the re-opening of the Ice House but that was no reason to leave everything lying around. He half suspected, as he began running hot water in one of the three large sinks, that Pacey had left the kitchen deliberately in this state for him to come and clean it. It was hard to prove, as Pacey was generally a slob with or without Doug around.
It was nearing closing time and Doug had come around for a bite after work with a few fellow cops, all of which had gone home at least an hour ago. Doug wasn't even sure why he stayed, but he decided it was because he had no one to talk to at home so he might as well have no one to talk to at his little brothers busy restaurant.
One of the young waiters came banging into the kitchen to deposit more plates and seemed startled when he saw Doug put on a fresh pair of rubber gloves.
"Sheriff Witter? Er… the boss is in his office," he said slowly, eyeing the gloves with certain distrust.
"Thanks Corey but I wasn't looking for him," he smiled and looked at his hands. "I was just going to lend a hand cleaning up."
At that moment Pacey came through the door, "Mr. Witter. Sheriff Witter," Corey said and scooted out, going to collect more plates from the late diners.
"Douggie! How's my very happy big brother?" Doug threw him a greasy. "Today's weather was very gay."
"If I had my gun here, I'd shoot you," Doug said deadpan, feeling the heat rise in his face. It had been strange this feeling, he had usually associated it with anger but he couldn't relate to that anymore. He felt compromised by the statement, embarrassed and unveiled. But he couldn't let any of that show. He wasn't ready for anyone to know this, least of all himself.
"I know," he said then looked at his brother hands. "I wasn't aware this was a crime scene," he said good-humouredly chuckling at the gloves.
"Ha-ha, very funny. You know for a minute there I thought I was doing you a favour," he teased flicking some soapsuds at his little brother, trying to distract him from repeating earlier conversation.
"Yeah, huge favour bro. But now that you've got the gloves on and the incredible experience that I'm sure you want to prove, you've got to clean my shirt and the floor as well," Pacey said straight-faced. "We can't have this place looking like a pigsty," he paused and leaned into to Doug and whispered, "We wouldn't want the cops finding out."
Doug couldn't help but laugh at the humour that was his little brother. But he was still conflicted by his own feelings of anger for Pacey for always trying to out him. 'Not that I have to be "outed" from anything', he made himself think.
He shook his head and turned back to the dishes with pasta entrails and dumped them in the mammoth dishwasher but proceeded to wash the wine glasses even though Pacey told him not to worry.
The noise level outside the kitchen was dying down as Doug could hear. The dishes were done and he stacked them in their shelving space and began to sweep the floors. It was Friday night and Pacey had his regulars to chat to, using his gift of the gab to entice them back.
The door swung open and Corey re-entered. "Like some help Sheriff?"
"No thank-you Corey," he said. "Do you need a lift home?"
"It's Capeside Sheriff," he said with a sly smile. "Hardly crime central."
Doug laughed. "I guess that makes my job slightly redundant."
Corey looked uncomfortable. "Er…"
"Don't worry about it kiddo," he said. "Go on, get out of here."
"I'm on for another half an hour. Mr. Witter will kill me."
"I'll take over," Doug said. "It's Friday night, go grab a movie, stay up late," he said then added. "But not too late and don't wander the streets."
"Goodnight Sheriff, and thanks," Corey said going to the storeroom to grab his jacket. "Can you lock up the storeroom?"
"Sure thing."
"The key's are in Mr. Witter's office. Second draw on the left hand-side."
Doug smiled and left through the back to empty the rubbish into the huge dumpster. Replacing the bins back in the kitchen he proceeded to go down to Pacey's office. He was glad that Pacey had finally done something worthwhile, something that ran with his idea of giving back to the community.
The office, not to Doug's surprise, was a total disaster. There was a mountain of papers on the desk and menus lying all over the place. He guessed that Pace would be a little while longer and decided to give him a nice clean office to come back to. After all, it would make running the place a lot easier.
He made his way to the desk and started to stack and file away the sprawled menus, the business cards, the contract deals, the advertisements, the license for dealing alcohol all in their respective places. He found a few empty folders and labelled each one for him, putting them in the otherwise empty drawers.
Taking the keys out of the second draw on the left-hand side, he replaced the receipts from customer and other business in collective bunches by months.
Reaching down to open the draw beneath, just to see what was in, he found that it was locked. Puzzled by this, his eyes instantly fell on Pacey's keys. He was looking for something small and bronze. His hand settled on just what he had been looking for. He leant down and placed the key in the hole then stopped.
He was a law enforcer and he was breaking conduct by prying into someone's business. But after all, it was just Pacey. No doubt it was just a stack of porn magazines. Doug sighed. The draw was locked. It was probably locked for good reason but secrets weren't really a Pacey thing. If something bad happened, sure, he wouldn't tell you straight away but you find out eventually. But Doug knew what it felt like to carry a secret, which was hoped to remain just that.
Decidedly, he turned the key and pulled the draw open. It didn't look like much. Papers on top, then he pushed them aside. Photos of Dawson, Joey, Jen, Jack, Andie. There were photos of his senior year and some less and more recent. There was another stack of paper underneath and he pulled them out.
Homework, tests, newspapers.
'Pacey had kept all of this?' Doug thought wildly sifting through. There was something that made him look twice. An old crumpled piece of paper with water spots dotting it here and there. The name at the top of the page wasn't Pacey Witter…
…but Jack McPhee.
He read the poem:
Today, by Jack McPhee
Today. Today was a day
The world got smaller, darker
I grew more afraid,
Not of what I am, but of what I could be.
I loosen my collar to take a breath.
My eyes fade.
And I see...Him.
The image of perfection.
His frame strong, his lips smooth.
And I keep thinking, 'what am I so afraid of?'
I wish I could escape this pain,
But these thoughts invade my head.
Bound to my memory, they're like shackles of guilt.
Oh, God, please set me free.
Free from this pain and this guilt
So that I may face
Tomorrow.
Doug stared at the paper and felt his own eyes blur at the words written. This was the poem. This was the poem that Jack was made to read out in class. The poem that "outed" him. He remembered Pacey coming home that day furious of what happened. He had gone back and yelled at the teacher, Mr. Peterson and must have kept the poem. Or maybe Jack didn't want it.
He read over it again and then quickly put the stuff back into Pacey's drawer in the correct order as to avoid suspicion. He took the keys and locked the storeroom. Suddenly his mind was full of thought.
'Why am I so scared?' he though. 'Jack was fifteen when he came out and look how happy he is.'
Doug sat down on one of the benches. His mind was swimming. He understood all that Jack was saying. He knows the feeling Jack felt. But one thing Jack hadn't mentioned was that feeling of being totally alone. The pain that Jack spoke of was the same, very real pain that Doug had been feeling for so long. It gave an instant lurch at being recognised. He felt like he was going to be sick.
But somehow that poem comforted him in a way nothing had ever in his life. There was understanding, reassuring, not just in the words but in the person who Jack is now.
Doug got off the counter as he heard Pacey walking his way.
"You cleaned up my desk man," he said with a smile. "Thanks."
"Anytime little bro," Doug said and play punched Pacey's arm.
"Why are you so happy? Does cleaning things out make you feel good?"
Doug smiled. "Yes," he said grabbing his jacket, "It feels better than you'll ever know Pace."
Doug made a mental note to thank Jack.
*
A/N: what did you think? Bad, good? I wrote this coz I noticed that there weren't many out there about Doug, and he's so cute!!! If you didn't notice, I am in love with Jack!!! lol!! Is it worth doing a chapter with Jack and Doug?? Anyways, thanks for reading!!
Rock on!
Phoenix Firefly