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Category: Dawson's Creek, Pacey/Andie fiction.
Author's Note: This is a sequel to Return to Me, so you might want to read that one first, if you haven't already (otherwise this story will make no sense to you). The characters are all mine, except the usual – Pacey, Dawson, Joey and Jen. Everyone else was created in my own twisted little brain.
Synopsis: Fourteen years ago, Pacey watched his one true love die before his eyes. In the aftermath of Andie's death, he returned to Capeside determined to raise her little girl, Mera just as Andie would have. But as Mera's mental state wavers and Pacey begins to see more and more of Andie in her behaviours, he comes to the realization that he has to tell her the truth of what happened all those years ago to make her an orphan.
What Becomes of the Broken Hearted
By Kimber
"I am not a child anymore, Pacey. You can't just expect me to stay one forever, you know."
Pacey sighed as he eyed the 16-year-old girl before him. Her intense blue eyes were settled on his, the brows raised in a slight bemused gesture. She was not backing down.
"Yes, I realize that," he replied, fighting to control his voice. "But in the eyes of the law – as well as mine – you are still a minor. And as such, I do have a right to make your decisions."
Mera McPhee gave an exasperated sigh, and rolled her eyes. "Pacey! You are being totally impractical. I'm telling you I want to go on a date with this guy – not marry him or run away together."
"Ah yes my dear," he replied. "Maybe not just yet. But give the boy time. Before I know it, one simple date will turn into impure thoughts and then the two of you will be running off to Vegas to say "I do" before the eyes of Elvis, and…"
Mera couldn't help but laugh. No matter how angry she was about whatever – Pacey could always make her laugh. It was like a talent he had, something she remembered about him growing up. He could always take the most intense, most frightening situations and turn them into something laughable.
"Ah-ha! See, see? You are already plotting this travesty. That little laugh of yours…"
"Hey – how can I ever run away with him if we don't get that first date?" Mera asked, pseudo-mockingly.
Pacey winked at her. "My point exactly." When he saw the look of discontentment cross her face, he quickly added, "I mean, I don't even know who this boy is, what his name happens to be…"
"Vartan. Vartan O'Reilly. He's 16, too, his dad…"
"…is Rick O'Reilly?" Pacey supplied. If so, things were not in his favour. He knew Rick, who was a friend of his brother Doug's. Both men were on the Capeside Police squad, and – much as he hated to admit it – damn good cops at that.
"Yeah," Mera replied, her tone changing. "Does Doug know him?"
Pacey nodded, grumbling as he did so. Rick and his son had recently moved to Capeside after his wife's death. The two lived on the water, a small home not far from his own.
Though somehow, between his own job, Mera's busy life, and the time he tried to spend away from his genetic family – Pacey had only met Rick once, never his son.
"So … is it okay? Is Vartan alright by your standards, seeing as though Doug'd never be friends with anyone shady or anything…"
"Mera … it's not a question of this boy's safety level. Boys his age are all the same – they all have one thing on their mind, and will do and say anything to get it."
Mera snorted. "You don't know Vartan, though."
"No, but I once was him."
"Yeah, and my mother's parents let you date her."
As soon as the words left her mouth, Mera regretted them. She had known her entire life about her mother's life – and death. Pacey wasn't her real father, but after her mother's death, she had come to live with him here in Capeside. She had been 2 at the time.
She was curious about her past, and her mother's short 23 years of life. But even though Pacey often liberally spoke of Andrea McPhee – Mera had learned to judge his moods.
She knew that her mother had dated Pacey in their teenage years, but they had broken up shortly before graduation. Her mother had then moved away, and the two had lost contact.
That was until five years later, when he had run into her in Providence. Her sick mother had asked Pacey then to look after her daughter if anything were to happen. And it did.
Mera had virtually no idea on her father – if she even had one. Pacey never openly spoke about him, and the few times she had brought it up, Pacey had gone silent and closed up like a clam. Mera just made her own mind up.
She had decided her father had left before she was born, not wanting a child. That her mother had dealt with this because she always knew that her true love would return. And he had.
Mera knew her mother had been in love with Pacey Witter. She had entrusted to him her most valuable possession – her daughter.
So on this Thursday evening, when Mera was caught in a teen-angst fueled argument with Pacey – she had spoken without thought.
Soon as mention of Andie McPhee was out, Mera knew she had lost. Watching Pacey's expression grow somber, his already puppy-dog eyes droop further, she knew she'd spoken at the wrong time.
"All I meant was…" she tried to reverse the damage.
"Mera," Pacey began, quietly. "I understand sometimes you may feel that your life isn't fair. And that's because sometimes it just isn't. When your mother … when you came to live with me, I had given your mother my word that I'd look after you. I know I'm not your real father, I know that sometimes I'm not even a good father. But I try. I loved Andie. She meant everything to me, and as such so do you now. You may not understand this now, or want to believe it – but I am doing the best for you."
Mera was far from convinced, but she decided to let go – at least temporarily. She could – and would – always try again later when Pacey had had time to settle down. Maybe then…
"Fine," she said, turning on her heel to leave. Something made her turn around for one last look. "But Pacey … you were wrong. You are my father. You're the only father I've got – you're all I've got. Thank you."
As Pacey watched her leave, his heart clenched. Mera had always been a daughter to him.
From the day he had brought her home – fourteen years ago – she had been his. With her beautiful honey-blonde hair and blue eyes – she was a spitting image of her mother.
Andie. God, how he missed her. She had been his first real teenage love. The two had met one summer, when Andie had moved to Capeside with her brother Jack, and their emotionally unstable mother. She had been sixteen, him almost there.
A relationship that had begun as sparring had turned into much more. And he still remembered – and cherished every memory he held of Andie. Their first kiss at the waterfront the night of the high school dance she'd forced them to attend. Her helping him to pass tests and eventually graduate from high school.
But they had rough times too. Andie had fallen victim to the same mental illness that had consumed her mother. Her father, wanting the best, had taken her to an institute for the summer – and she had returned changed.
Her moment of betrayal had changed everything. Their relationship had never been the same again. They'd graduated together – but apart. Andie's mother died soon after, and she had disappeared.
It wasn't until 5 years later, when they were 23 that he located her. He'd been on a "fun" trip to Providence with his then girlfriend Lecey and her friends when he had run into Andie.
She had been there all along. She met and married Ralston Mackey – a high roller's sheriff's deputy, and all around moron. He had soon realized that Andie was not happy. Ralston was physically abusing her – and their 2 year old daughter Mera.
Andie's sad tale ended dramatically. One morning Pacey had shown up to take her and Mera away – and had confronted Ralston himself. There was a struggle, and Andie was shot in the crossfire. She had come to Pacey before her death – an out of body experience, he had supposed – and told him to take care of Mera.
After her death, her will confirmed this. Ralston was nowhere to be found, and if he had been, he'd be facing jail time. His family had not wanted "the child" and Andie's surviving members were not available.
So he'd gone to collect 2 year old Mera the morning after Andie's death. She was an incredibly intelligent little girl. She knew who he was "cuz Momma always talked on you", and willingly made the trek to Capeside with him months later.
Their life together was reasonably relaxed. In record time, the courts gave him custody and she became his daughter.
Feeling he owed her something, Pacey had told Mera that her mother had died of a "prolonged illness". He'd hated lying to her, and felt as she grew older, she should know the truth. But he could never tell her. He could not destroy her life by telling her that her mystery father had been around, that it was he who had killed her mother. He was the illness. Pacey just loved her too much to destroy her that way.
And he saw no reason to. As she grew, Pacey knew that she did not have a bone of Ralston Mackey's in her. Upon her adoption, Pacey had gotten rid of the Mackey behind her name, leaving just the McPhee. And she truly was one.
Even now at sweet sixteen, she was a normally bubbly girl. She had taken on committee after committee at school, had a best friend named Jeff (who was a girl) and dutifully did her homework each night.
Yet so much was she like her mother, that Pacey often grew worried. In his forced upon role of father, he'd become quite the mother hen. He worried about bullies at school, he worried about drugs and alcohol. He worried about the mental illness that had seemed to be genetic between Andie and her own mother. And he worried about boys.
Knowing that many years earlier, he and Andie – at 16 – had been sexually active did nothing to calm his fears. And now that Mera had begun discussing boys and dates, he had cause for concern.
He'd made a promise to the out-of-body Andie the day she had died. And he would stop at nothing to keep it. To keep Mera safe.
--------------------------
Upon entrance to the school, she had subconsciously seeked him out. The front doors opened to a long bank of lockers, assigned on the first day of the classes that year. But because he had moved somewhat mid-semester, he'd simply been assigned an empty spot. Next to her very locker.
Casually, as if she were going to her own locker for books which – in fact – resided in her backpack, Mera slipped in beside him. Almost immediately, he turned to face her, a half smile played on his lips.
"Hey Mera."
Mera looked up, trying to muster an appearance of mock and surprise.
"Oh, hey Vartan. Ready for Bio?"
He snorted. "Oh yeah, the highlight of the day for sure. Why does one strain of fruit flies have red eyes, while their counterparts are black?"
Mera laughed. "Those, and many more questions are answered on today's edition of Bio Quiz, with your host – Mr. McGregor!"
If there was one thing Mera could honestly say about Vartan O'Reilly (though she could say many) it would be that he was always making her laugh.
In fact, that's what had brought the two of them together in the first place. Vartan and his father had moved to town only a few months earlier, and though Pacey's brother Doug spoke often of their new deputy and his young son – she had never paid attention. Over the years she had gotten used to Doug's ramblings about new deputies. In his eyes they were either complete failures, or they were real winners. Rick O'Reilly had been fortunate to fall into the latter of the categories.
The day she'd met Vartan, Mera had been in a super bad mood. She had made plans with Jeff for the evening prior – only to have them broken when she'd been coerced into babysitting for Pacey's friends' Joey and Dawson's children. Dawson had been called to Hollywood – some faux paux with his new film. And Joey had previous committed herself to a top notch charity event.
On any other day, Mera would have been ecstatic to watch the kids – but not when she had made other plans.
So that day following had been one full of frustrating bad luck. She had forgotten about a short math quiz, a number of questions in her English text, and had missed Jeff on the early morning ride to school.
Lunch period had only seemed to compound the horrid day. She had been standing in line at the cafeteria, about to load a tray of pink Jell-O onto her tray, when it had tipped. From behind her, she felt a body fall heavily into her. The tray had clattered to the floor, spilling its contents every which way.
She'd turned around, ready to ream out whoever'd caused this catastrophe, when she'd seen him. Tall, blue-green eyes wide with embarrassment, brown hair curling slightly at the ends. When his eyes met hers, she had immediately changed her expression.
"Oh, god…" he had begun. "I'm so sorry. I … uh, I'm such a klutz sometimes, and I…"
She had shrugged. "No problem."
When she bent down to retrieve the contents of the lunch, he'd gone with her. Picking up lettuce leaves, he'd quipped,
"Well, I suppose if you wanted a tossed salad…"
Since that day, she had kept running into him throughout the school. It was their third meeting – discovering they were locker neighbours – that he'd introduced himself.
"Vartan O'Reilly," he'd said, quickly adding, "that's what happens when the French marry the Irish."
"Mera McPhee," she'd supplied, immediately. "And I think I've met your father."
She had gone on to explain how her "uncle" Doug had introduced her to Rick O'Reilly on one of her visits to the 'cop shop'.
Over the next few weeks, she had joined him for lunch more than once. Jeff was busy with the cheerleading and pep squad tryouts, and she often spent lunch working. But Mera hadn't minded. It gave her more time with Vartan.
They had both been unusually forward with their pasts – and how it had affected them. When he'd told her his mother had recently died – she had told him much as she knew about her own mother. And how she'd come to live with Pacey here in Capeside.
So far, though, their relationship was mostly plutonic. When Jeff's busy social life allowed her free time, she hung out with Mera and Vartan. She liked him as immediately as Mera had – and had no problem with sharing her best friend with him.
Mera hadn't actually thought anything of her friendship with Vartan until Jeff had brought it up one evening.
"Seriously, Mera," she had said. "He totally digs you."
"What?!" She'd done her best to appear shocked. "How can you tell?"
"Oh, it's wicked obvious." Jeff had outlined the 'obvious' signs. "Well, he looks directly into your eyes when he talks to you. And when he's talking about you, which – trust me – he does, his eyes light up unnaturally."
Jeff – ever the romance expert – had assured Mera that Vartan most likely wanted to ask her out, but was simply waiting for the right time to do so. She also figured he was intensely shy.
So it was on this belief that Mera had many times unsuccessfully attempted to broach the dating topic with Pacey. The night prior she had finally managed it.
"Mera?"
She snapped back into the present.
"Sorry," she shook her head.
"Late night?" Vartan shot her another of his adorable half smiles. "Out raving it up, gallivanting with Jeff Cavanaugh from party to party, hoping…"
"Stop!" She said, through peals of laughter. "You know that isn't true. I was looking after Dawson and Joey's kids, and trying to study. And avoid Pacey as best I could."
Vartan caught the sudden downshift of her eyes, and lowered his voice.
"Is everything alright?"
She shook her head, heaving a loud sigh. "Yeah, I guess. He's just – argh! So overprotective that sometimes it really gets annoying."
"I guess he cares, though." It was Vartan's turn to lower his eyes. "I mean, my dad's an awesome guy and all. I guess that this work's just … busy. I kind of wish we could spend a bit more time together."
"Sucks," Mera said. "Pacey's overprotective, and your dad's under protective. But Pacey's just silly about some stuff, I mean…" she took a deep breath, deciding within 2 seconds to just go for it. "Like dating. Pacey seems to believe I'm "too young" to even consider dating. But the thing that makes no sense is that he started dating my mom when she was 16. So I don't see the difference."
"Yeah." He forced a cough out, downcast his eyes, and lowered his voice. "'Cuz, I mean … I was going to ask if you wanted to see a movie tomorrow. Maybe. I mean, even a matinee…"
"With you?" Mera asked, voice high, then realizing Vartan may misinterpret the question. "I mean just you?"
"Well … I mean … if Prince William and Princess Mia Thermopolis already have plans…"
She laughed nervously. "You know, I'll bet they do."
He shrugged. "Guess it'd just be us then. Would that be … bad?"
"No!" She nearly shouted. "No, that would be fun."
"But Pacey…" he said, quizzically. "I don't want to go against anything he's said, or offend him or anything."
"I'll talk to him again today," Mera replied, reassuringly. "I'm sure he'll change his mind."
"Cuz if not, I could always stop by and ask him myself. Make my intentions clear…" as though realizing what he was saying, Vartan began to laugh. "God, listen to me. I should like I'm asking for your hand in marriage."
"Pacey said you wouldn't. Said we'd just elope…"
"What?"
Mera blushed. "Nothing. Just Pacey being overprotective again. I can totally talk to him again, let him know…"
She trailed off, spotting Jeff down the hall, bee lining their way.
Vartan turned, spotting her at the same time. "Oh, well … here comes Hurricane Jeff. Better let her talk to you before she destroys more barns and cattle. I'll see you, Mera."
With that he left, leaving her standing slack-jawed at the lockers.
By this time, Jeff Cavanaugh had made her way over, and was immediately talking. "Was that Vartan? What'd he take off so sudden for. Like a freaking bat outta hell there."
"Hey Jeff."
Jeff eyed her best friend. "What's your deal today?" Without waiting for an answer, she continued. "Or better yet – what's your deal tomorrow? I was thinking maybe we could check out the new matinee downtown, maybe…"
"Jeff, you are a genius!" Mera broke in. "You're an absolutely genius!"
"Thanks, but … huh?"
"A movie tomorrow. Perfect." Quickly, she summarized her discussion with Vartan and hoe he'd asked her out. "Great stuff … only Pacey doesn't want me "dating" yet."
Jeff smiled. "Ah, I see where your mind's going, you little devil. If I come along for the ride, you can tell Pacey it isn't a date, just a friendly outing with two of your chums, smart girl."
Mera smiled to herself. Maybe, just maybe she could pull this off."
--------------------------
"I'm telling you, Leery, mirror image."
Dawson Leery quietly listened to his best friend talk. Though the distance between them gave the phone an odd echo, and the occasional crackle, he could still feel.
He could feel the emotions of Pacey Witter bleed through the phone, overwhelming the lines.
Well, I mean, she is Andie's daughter." He said, cautiously.
"And she's so much like her, which is my point. She's in no way her father's daughter – thank god. But when I think about Andie at her age – the things we did, the things that she went through…"
"…it wigs you out," Dawson supplied. "Understandable with the underlying factors contributing…" he sighed. "In other words – normal fatherly worry."
"Dawson, I'm not her father…"
"Pacey – you are. You are the only father Mera has ever known. You legally adopted her – that makes you, by law, her father. So don't give me garbage about you not being her dad."
Pacey inhaled sharply. "Geez, Dawson. Who'd have thought this – so many years after our high school days – we'd be talking about parenting. Definitely not something we considered. Then it was just your average crisis of the week with Joey…"
"…hey, I understand Mera was able to look after the kids for a bit yesterday … I appreciate that, Pacey."
"Aw, she doesn't mind. God, she loves your kids – that Mitchell especially."
"And she's awesome with him, man. I mean … he's overly sensitive to people around him, but that's never been a problem where Mera was concerned. I think he scares a lot of people – but she's just so tolerant. Like…"
Pacey let the silence fall between them, not wanting to finish his friends' sentence. "Tolerant like Andie." Even Dawson, who had known Mera since Pacey had brought her home, could not deny her striking similarities to Andie McPhee.
Her giving nature, her utter acceptance and inclusion of those different from herself. When Dawson's second child, Mitchell, had been born 8 years earlier and had suffered the effects of cerebral palsy – Mera had been intrigued.
She spent hours with Joey – learning about his special needs. She offered to spend time with him, playing, while Joey ran errands and did housework. When he was fitted for a wheelchair, for leg braces, for a walker – Mera was there. She taught herself sign language when Joey found that Mitchell responded to it.
Their first child, Catie, was 2 when Mitchell was born. Mera had already grown attached to her – a "cousin" of sorts. With Mitchell – Mera had to regulate her time, to ensure she wasn't neglecting Catie's needs as well.
Now, with Dawson away frequently and Joey's busy schedule – Mera found herself babysitting quite often. Pacey knew that on more than one occasion, the "job" had ruined her plans – last night, for example. And though it often did bother her – she tried hard not to let it show. She was dedicated to those kids.
"…Witter?"
Pacey phased back into the conversation. "Yeah, man. I gotta go – it was cool hearing from you. I'll tell Mera you said hi."
"Sure thing. And Pacey? Just remember, you were a teenager at one time too, okay?"
"Dawson, that's what worries me, my friend."
He hung up, replacing the phone in its cradle. Glancing around the kitchen, he saw – as though for the first time – what it held.
Two small laminated drawings were clipped to a wall beside the calendar. Both ere filled with colour, a child's shaky printing in each proclaimed its artists, Mera McPhee.
He's always known she'd been gifted. At three years of age, Mera had printed her own name. It was shaky, and somewhat unrecognizable, but he'd known what it represented and so had she.
At five, when she started kindergarten, Mera had been able to print her name clearly. She could write sentences, spell difficult words, write poetry. Her teacher had proclaimed her to "gifted", but at the time Pacey hadn't understood the word.
He knew nothing about child development – when a child should be able to print, write – to whistle and sing and repeat chants. He hadn't even known that she could talk for the first little while.
Dredging up memories he forced himself back to that fateful morning – 14 years ago – when Andie had died. He remembered it all too clearly, even now. He recalled her phone call that morning – waking him from a slumber.
He remembered finding her at her home – battered and ready for a change. He had never felt more hatred in his entire life, than he had felt that day. Hatred, sadness, guilt.
The guilt that still burned him deep within. He had never been able to fully recover from that. From knowing it was his presence that had jeopardized Andie's life in the first place. It was his stubbornness that had enraged her husband Ralston so much that he had drawn his weapon.
That it was his life that should have ended. Ralston had aimed the gun at his face, then fired. He hadn't realized until after the initial shock had worn off, but it was Andie who'd saved him. She had thrown herself in front of Ralston. She had taken the bullet intended for him – the bullet that had killed her.
What if he'd just forgiven Andie for her infidelity – all those summers ago? Then she would have stayed in Capeside, never returning to Providence into the controlling grasp of Ralston Mackey.
What if he hadn't pushed Andie to leave Ralston? What if he had just gone home to Capeside and tried to forget about Andie and her new life?
But no matter what he thought, whatever type of scenario his mind cooked up – the facts were all there. If things hadn't happened the way they had – if every detail hadn't been the way it was, he'd never have known Mera.
She would have stayed at home, suffering backhands alongside her mother in the Mackey home. Or worse still – she'd never have been born at all. And Pacey couldn't life with that "what if". Though he hated spending every day without Andie – he couldn't imagine spending every day without Mera either.
He remembered Andie's instructions to take Mera – raise her as his own. He had gone to the babysitters' address, as listed in Andie's wallet. He had told the sitter the details – but by then the police had already apprehended the little girl.
He had gone directly to the orphanage. The director had let him in to visit the girl. Her blonde hair was long, straight, pulled into 2 uneven pigtails. He explained his intentions – adopting her eventually.
The police had been more helpful than he'd expected. Supposing they knew about Ralston – had known what had been going on, and had done nothing. Knew they were also partly responsible for her death too.
When it came down to it, there never really was anyone else. Nobody from the Mackey family was willing to acknowledge the orphaned girl. Andie's brother Jack was off in New York at school, and her father was ill. He was all she had – little as it was.
Eventually, the orphanage let him take Mera home temporarily. It took another year for the adoption to become final.
When he'd first seen her – without Andie nearby – she had studied him intently. At two years, her blue eyes almost seemed wise beyond their years - though full of wonder and curiosity.
He continued to visit her – not once did she speak a word. He read her stories, talked, and told her all about Capeside.
The day he "temporarily" took her home to Capeside was the first time she breathed a word.
"Mommy isn't coming back. Is she?"
Heartbreaking words from a child almost 3. She had never questioned his identity – how he knew her mother, where he came from. All she cared about was her mother.
And he'd lied. Not knowing what to say, he had simply replied, "no, Mera. She's not."
As the years progressed, she had wanted to know more. Why her mother had not come back. At three and a half, she'd said to him,
"Mom's dead, isn't she? That's why she isn't coming to get me?"
At five years, a simple "yes" answer had not satisfied her. He'd been forced on a whim to explain. And he had used all he could think of. He concocted a story about Andie being ill. He'd given her a death bed confession.
He explained his past relationship with her, which Mera had long before picked up on.
"You loved my mom, right Pacey?" she often said to him.
Yet somehow, through the years, she had never asked about her dad. Never a question or a wonder. When required, she referred to him as her father.
In her early years, she had shown mild interest, and had –out of the blue – asked him, "where did my dad go?"
Also not knowing how to properly explain "after he killed your mom, he disappeared," Pacey had hedged the question with, "I never knew." Mera had enquired further, but eventually caught on that when she brought her father up, it angered Pacey. She'd learned not to bring it up, to just accept her dad was gone and her mom had died of a prolonged illness.
Though he regretted lying to her in the first place, Pacey never saw – and still never did – another way. His job was to protect Mera. And he was.
Protecting her from the truth.
--------------------------
The minute Mera walked in the door that Friday afternoon, Pacey sensed something. It was as though smelling something out of the ordinary – some element just not fitting in.
But he ignored it.
"Hey Pacey," Mera greeted him warmly. Sign number one – which he was ignoring, of course.
When they had their "words" the night before, Mera had been angry with him. She had spent time away – gone into her own sanctuary. Then Joey had called for her to babysit. She had come home that evening in a better mood – having spent time with Catie and Mitchell – but had exchanged minimal words with him.
All day at work, Pacey had mulled over their fight – what each had and hadn't said. He wondered if perhaps he was being too pushy with Mera – if perhaps he was overbearing.
When Dawson had called, a short time ago, he'd posed the question of Mera dating. Dawson had hedged the issue – implying it was really his decision. But he had reminded Pacey that at 16, he and Andie were already having sex – after dating no more than a year.
When Pacey had spun the question around, asking about Catie – Dawson had merely shot back, "Catie's ten years old. I should hope she's not thinking of dating."
And yet somehow – a seemingly sullen Mera had turned herself around and was now happy again. Pacey also chose to ignore the second implication – Mera's beginnings of mood swings.
"Hey, Mera. Dawson just phoned – said to tell you hello."
Mera smiled. "Cool. Has he got a part for me in the new Hollywood blockbuster yet?"
Pacey's brow shot up, and he grinned. "Not yet, though I'm sure the moment the call comes through for a defiantly dangerous 16 year old…"
"Whatever." Mera laughed. "Did he mention when he'd be heading home?"
"Nah, but I'd assume when the problem shooting's finished. Why?"
"Ah … no reason. I mean, I can tell Catie and Mitchell miss him. That's all."
Pacey caught the defensive note to her voice, and raised a brow again.
"How was your day, Mera?"
"Oh … great! I mean, not too bad. Pop quiz in history … more experiments in Bio…" her voice had regained its peppy nature.
"Much homework for the weekend?"
She shook her head. "Not too bad. Besides," she downcast her eyes suddenly, "I figured maybe I'd head out on the town tomorrow afternoon. How about you Pacey?"
"Out on the town? What's this mean exactly, if you'll please 21st century it for me."
"Oh, you know … maybe head out with some friends, check out a movie if anything's playing. Are you going out anywhere?"
Now that he clearly knew Mera was avoiding something – namely specifically answering his question – he chose to forge on.
"Which friends, Mera?"
"Uh … well, with Jeff of course. She is my friend, afterall. And then, you know, perhaps Vartan might meet us there…"
"Vartan O'Reilly?" Pacey's brows knitted. "The boy I strictly forbid you to go on a date with in our discussion last night?"
"Discussion?" Mera spat. "Ha! Pacey, that wasn't a discussion. Discussions are reciprocal. That was you ordering me around like a little kid…"
"That's not the issue here, Mera."
"No, it is! When you get right down to it, that is the "issue" Your inhumane treatment of me."
"Inhumane?" Pacey's voice had risen, despite his attempts to keep it neutral. "Oh, ok. You have a home here. You get an allowance, you have access to a car, public education. Food, love, friends. I've given you everything, Mera!"
"But you won't let me go out on a date! A simple date with a boy that I happen to like. It's nothing more, Pacey. Just a date."
"Which you apparently went and made behind my back, of course…"
"And how was I supposed to do it? You said no. I gave you the opportunity to agree with me – to at least allow me to explain myself. Vartan would even come here so you could meet him…"
"I've made up my mind already. It's not up for discussion again."
"God, Pacey, what is your deal?!"
"What's my deal? Girl, you are driving me up the walls. You've never caused me trouble before, I don't know why you've decided to start now."
"What are you trying to do to me?" Tears had sprung to her eyes, making them look large and glassy.
"All I'm trying to do is protect you. I wish you would just understand that."
"Protect me?" She echoed. "From what? God, Pacey, I don't know what you think you have to protect me from. There's nothing."
"There is, Mera. You don't know the half of it. Maybe one day when you're a parent…"
"What, like you Pacey? A stand in parent?"
Pacey stared at her in amazement. What he had said was true – Mera had never caused him trouble before. She was always so happy, a sunny smile on her face. She enlightened those around her, and she almost seemed to feed off her own positive energy. He had never seen such a change – such a drastic dramatic change before.
And he had no idea on how to deal – what to do. Growing up, he had been that defiant teenager. He'd refused to listen to his father, disobeyed rules set by his brother Doug. He ran his own life, made his own decisions.
His father had handled him half-assedly. He had chosen an ignorant tactic – nothing any different than he'd used before. Pacey had learned early on that no matter what he did, he could never impress his father. No matter how high his marks, how well his behaviour, he would always be a failure in his father's eyes.
His basic philosophy, upon adopting Mera, had been simply to do "everything his father hadn't" and "not do everything he did." Simple, he'd thought.
And still, Mera's current behaviour was beginning to freak him out. Her comment, meant to hurt him, no doubt, had. He flinched, as though physically attacked by the words themselves.
"Mera," he said, calmly. "You are upset with me, I see that. I'm sorry I've done this – but I really am concerned for you."
"Like hell."
"Mera. You know I'm not a "stand in parent". I am your parent. I'm all you have."
"No, you aren't." The tears cascaded down her cheeks. "You keep saying that, but you're wrong. I have someone else – I have my real father. He's out there somewhere, and he loves and misses me."
"Mera!"
"No. I don't care what you have to say, Pacey. I don't anymore. I just want you to leave me alone." She calmly turned, and began walking towards her bedroom.
"Mera, wait please…" he trailed after her. Reaching out for her hand, he grasped her wrist.
She turned, freeing herself from his grasp. Her eyes were wild, the colour seemed a hardened steel. The free hand spun violently, close to her body.
Pacey heard the sound before he saw it. A smash, a loud bang, sparks, then shattered glass. Shock, surprise on Mera's face.
He was afraid to look down. A memory invaded his mind.
14 years earlier – Ralston's shot. Andie – the stunned look on her face, the blood.
There was so much blood. Mera's white blouse was stained in it, her mouth a wide "o".
He blinked. No blood. No "o". A look of anger now, not shock, not surprise. No gunshot, no gun, no Andie.
A smashed glass lamp base – lying over the floor. Mera screaming, her left arm going to her right, tugging at the tattered sleeve.
Pacey reached out, pulled back the sleeve. There was blood. A small gash on Mera's arm – piece of glass falling from the sleeve with the movement.
"Mera…"
New memories. Andie. 16. Tim. The day he'd nearly lost her. Her dead brother keeping her mind hostage. The photo album he'd found – Andie, Jack, Tim. Her reaction, smashed lamp base.
"Let me go," Mera said softly. She pulled out of his grasp for the 2nd time – gently. Licking her lips, she walked backwards, rolling down her sleeve calmly.
He stood, not wanting to move, not wanting to make the realization of what had happened, what it meant, where it led.
He heard Mera's door click shut, heard a lock snap shut. He wanted to run after her. Bang on the door, tell her to come out, he would cradle her to his chest – tell her everything would be okay.
But between the assaulting memories and the sinking reality of the situation, he knew he couldn't.
He just couldn't force himself to lie to her again.
--------------------------
The blood had finally stopped. She didn't know how long she'd been in the room – or how long since her accident … but she did know it had stopped.
Mera had taken a few first aid classes over the past years – wanting to be prepared in her work with Mitchell and Catie. She knew how to distinguish between serious bleeding and something minor. What she had suffered – a piece of the broken lamp slashing her arm – was a scratch.
Bandaged with Kleenex and scotch tape, the arm was elevated, as she lay on her small bed. Though small, the room was definitely not. She had chosen the bed – always wanting a canopy – the soft comforter that adorned it a blue plaid pattern.
A dresser, desk, collapsible curtain and book shelves completed the room. The walls were a soft rose colour – her choice and Pacey's 14th birthday gift to her.
She shook her head, remembering again what she thought was the last half hour. Why had she been like that? Why had she said such awful things to Pacey – things she hadn't even bothered to take back?
And yet she had felt powerless to. The strong emotions had just come to her – taking over her mind and her body. The one minute she'd been ecstatic about her perspective "date" with Vartan. Happy from the days events, she had come home wanting to see Pacey.
But when he opposed her – it was as though something snapped. A hot liquid surged through her veins – and she saw red. Before she had time to realize it, she was yelling hurtful things, tears streaming down her face.
Why?
And it was not relatively new. A few weeks ago, when Jeff had mentioned how Vartan "looked hot", she had nearly bitten her best friend's head off. Jeff, no doubt shocked, had backed down immediately. She apologized, covering herself with the customary "gosh, no, Mera. I'm not talking about it in that way. I mean, he's so totally obviously into you."
But lately – least before today – Mera had begun to wonder. Never really caring before, she had become concerned over her appearance – and comparing her way inferior looks to those of her best friend.
Jeff Cavanaugh was born beautiful. She was gifted with the long brown locks, that curled slightly to give them lift. Her eyes were a most unusual hazel colour – made lighter in contrast to her dark locks. She was athletic – pep squad, cheerleading, dance and track outside of school. She was someone who could show up in sweats, a t-shirt and fresh faced – yet own the room.
Mera, however, was not athletic. She enjoyed walking and did play soccer and outdoorsy type games with the Leery kids. But her passion was school. She did her best in classes that challenged her – enjoying a good math problem or essay paper. As a child, she'd heard people refer to her as "gifted", but hadn't understood why until her elder years.
She had blonde hair – straight as an arrow – that hung loosely just below her collarbone. Her eyes were blue-green, most often dark blue. She was of average build, and – unlike her counterpart – could not pull off the 'relaxed sweats look'. When she tried, she ended up looking very much the part of a slob.
Deep down, she did not care about looks, about how others saw her and responded to her. But the bout of self consciousness had come on suddenly. She hadn't time to prepare for or staunch it.
Just another of the crazy things she had been experiencing of late. All without reason, without cause. She was an avid reader, and had researched the topics from teen angst to puberty, to the mood swing disorders. But nothing seemed to fit. She had been a teenager for four years now without a major upheaval.
Now this. Treating Pacey like crap, wanting her way no matter the cost. And after all he had done for her.
She remembered little of her life before him. She knew she was 2 when her mother had died. He had told her minimal information about her mother – and about life before chaos.
What memories she had were few, grainy, and somewhat misleading. She remembered trips – many short trips with her mother. Bags packed, her small pink suitcase in the backseat with her. She recalled her mother's anxious face, her eyes darting between her rear view mirror and the road.
But the trips never lasted long. She supposed it was something special she had done with her mother – she recalled staying at motels, rather, she recalled sleeping in a bed with her mother. The closeness of her clammy skin.
She did not remember her father. Or rather, she had no idea about remembering him or not. Pacey had never shown her a picture, and had never spoken of him. Mera did remember someone – a very tall man with dark hair. She had one particular fuzzy memory of herself at the park with the man. She had ridden the merry-go-round or a train, or something. She just clearly recalled losing sight of the man and panicking. She remembered no more.
She had seen a few photos of her mother, but not through Pacey. One night, after babysitting for Mitchell and Catie, Dawson had brought out a photo box. Pictures from when he was 16, he told her.
She laughed at the silly photographs that had captured Pacey – most often goofy looks on his face. She had seen photos of her Uncle Jack, her mother's brother. He only visited once every while, but she knew him well enough to know he had changed since his teen years.
There was one photograph that Dawson had captured – no doubt a candid. In it, Pacey's face shone brightly – his arms wrapped around a blonde girl. She was facing him, her eyes clear. They were so into each other that they had obviously not taken notice of Dawson with his camera.
"That's Andie. She was so happy." Dawson had said. Andie. Andrea McPhee. Her mother.
Mera stared at the photo for a long time. "She's so beautiful," she had finally said. "So happy. Pacey never shows me photographs."
Dawson had given her a panicked look then, afraid he'd done something wrong. She'd assured him it was no problem – she did not need to tell Pacey. He had given her the photo to keep, and she placed it in cellophane and in the dresser drawer beside her bed.
"God, look at those two," Dawson had said, gazing at the photo. "They were so in love. Pacey – he'd do anything for her – no matter the cost or the reprimand by his father."
Remembering his comment, Mera thought of Vartan. She thought of him – and how kind he'd bee to her, how he'd just integrated with her and Jeff.
"Perhaps he's my Pacey?" she thought. Maybe she was supposed to take her mother's lead, follow her heart, be rash.
She felt bad – seeing as though Pacey had told her no on two separate occasions now. And yet somehow, she didn't mind. She did not see it as disobeying him – but rather offering him a chance to see – to give her the choice.
She picked up the phone and dialed.
"Hello?"
"Vartan?"
"Hey, Mera," he said. "What's shakin' bacon?"
She laughed. "Not much on this end. Listen, I just wanted to tell you … if you still wanted to, I can see a movie with you tomorrow morning."
He was silent, but when the voice came, it was clearly ecstatic. "Are you sure? I mean, I'm totally up for it – I seriously want to do this with you."
"Oh yeah, it's cool."
"With Pacey, too?" He asked, warily. "Because Mera, he's an awesome guy. I wouldn't want to get on his bad side…"
"He's fine." Mera said, shortly. "I mean, we talked about it, and he's cool."
"Ok. So … uh … I'll pick you up around 11-ish?"
"No," she said. "I mean … no, let's just meet downtown somewhere. The old fountain? I kind of told Jeff she could come too. That's the reason Pacey is cool with it. So … she'd rather meet there."
"Oh, alright," he agreed. "Then, with Jeff there … it's not really a date?"
"Oh no," Mera said, her voice strong and sure. "It's a date."
--------------------------
"Jennifer Lindley."
Pacey cleared his throat. "Hey, Jen? It's Pacey."
"Pacey! To what do I owe the honour of this phone call, all the way over to my side of the world?"
"Oh, you know," he laughed nervously. "Just checkin' in, wanting to know what's up, what's new. How's the practice going?"
"Good…" she was weary. "Listen, Pacey. My assistant told me the call was long distance, so I assume you're calling from Capeside, and aren't actually in New York."
"Right you are. You see Jack much anymore?"
"Yes, every weekend. Now Pacey … I am not the moron you assume me to be. The small talk cuts through nothing. What's the problem? Is something bugging you?"
The one problem with having shrinks for friends, Pacey thought, is that they can see through you. They recognize the signs they've been carefully trained to see. They analyzed each and every thing you said, did, and didn't do. Some had gained the ability to shut this habit off – but some still hadn't.
Jen was the only person he knew practicing as a psychiatrist – licensed, anyhow. He didn't talk to her much anymore – she'd left Capeside 19 years ago, and hadn't returned. But upon his adopting Mera, his connection to her had become Jack. They had a reciprocal relationship going where they would call and chat for a few hours, every once in a while. Mostly to 'see' how the other person was doing.
Most times he called her, though, he was calling for Jack. Mr. Reliable himself, often out and about – rarely calling to check in on his niece, even more rarely coming back to visit her.
It wasn't that Jack McPhee was a bad person, either. A little preoccupied at times, maybe … but a good guy. Upon her entrance to the professional life, Jen had become rather serious, very steadfast. Perhaps it was the job, or what she dealt with on a daily basis. Somehow, though, she'd become his confidant. The times he wasn't calling to inquire about Jack, he was calling for advice.
Which is why, this evening when he'd placed the call, she knew something was amiss.
"Listen, is everything okay over there, Pacey? Are you in some type of trouble?"
"It's Mera," he said, shortly.
A silence lapsed between them, before Jen broke it.
"Is she in trouble?"
Pacey licked his lips. "I don't know. I mean, I think she potentially could be, but … I didn't know where to turn. I hate having to lay this on you, Jen. But you sort of know Mera, you know her past … and Andie's."
"Andie? Pacey, what's this about?"
"Is mental illness hereditary?"
"What?" Jen squeaked into the phone.
"Just tell me. Is it? Can it be?"
"Well … heredity is a factor," the professional voice clicked in. "There are other things that can play a part – other factors. Do you honestly think Mera could be…"
"I don't know. But I figured you could tell – you'd know where to go, what to do. Maybe I'm just overreacting, and maybe it's just average teen behaviour. I just need to know."
"What's happened?"
Pacey briefly described what had bothered him lately. Her mood swings, the ability to be totally ecstatic one moment, then sullen the next. The way she overreacted to slight things, took offense in the greatest sense. He'd mentioned the recent occurrence involving Vartan, dating, and his response. To this, Jen commented,
"God, Pacey. When did you turn into such a prude? I'd be pissed if you prohibited me from dating, too."
"Yeah, but you're thirty-seven," he said in self defense.
"And she's 16. Hell, at sixteen you and Andie were…"
"…dating," he cut in.
"That's what I was going to say," Jen replied, a hint of humour to her tone. "She's a sixteen year old girl, she obviously likes this guy, sees something in him. You should've gone along with it."
"Yes, yes, but … I'm not asking for parenting advice."
"So she's had some mood swings, then?" Jen confirmed. "She's seemed a bit off, sometimes distant. Have you been the only one to notice this change?"
"No, she has too. Every time she 'freaks out', she acts different afterwards. She's calmer, like she's over controlling herself. Even when she overreacts to something – afterwards, she'll over dramatize how okay she is with it – how she really didn't mind at all."
"Has she violently acted out at all? Maybe after a 'freak out' or in reaction to something?"
Pacey leveled. He told her about that evening – the reason he had made the call. The angry outburst, breaking the lamp, cutting her arm. Her adverse reaction to it.
He could hear Jen scribbling everything down on the other end. "Helps me to see the big picture," she'd told him once.
"Pacey … has this – the violence – ever happened before?"
"No. Not before tonight."
"I see. Hmm…"
Pacey laughed. "Is that a secret shrink stalling tactic, Jen? I've always wanted to ask."
"If I told you, then it wouldn't be a secret, would it?" Jen taunted. Then the professional tone returned. "Pacey … I don't want to diagnose over the phone. I don't feel it would be professional of me in the least. But I can give you some sound advice. With Mera's history – family history against her, I mean … not only did Andie have a mental illness, her mother had one too, don't forget…" How could he? It had been what brought them together.
"Also with her history … mother murdered by father…"
"Um … actually, Jen? Mera doesn't know that."
"What? Pacey! Every time we talk, I insist you tell her the truth. She can't go on being lied to."
"But I have lied to her, Jen. I already made that mistake. When she finds out I've lied to her for all those years…"
"Pacey, the longer she goes on believing a lie, the longer you'll have deceived her. It's never too late to tell the truth. Even so, then … she lost her mother at a very young age. She didn't have a stable family stance to begin with, either. Add in the being carted to a new town to live with a complete stranger – sorry – it has to have affected her. Maybe not at 2 ½, but bad things have a nasty way of catching up."
"So it's not just teen angst?"
"Like I said, Pace. I can't really say for sure over the phone."
"But with what you know…"
Her voice was solemn. "With what I know, what you've told me, no. It's more. I'm sorry."
A heaviness had entered his heart. After everything he'd done, every effort he'd made –Mera had still ended up ill. The curse from her mother's family had caught up with her.
"What can I do?"
"Get help. And I'm serious about this Pacey, I'm not just suggesting this to you. I'm telling you now – as a professional and as a friend. If you want to help Mera – you need to get her help. If it's as serious as it sounds, it won't just go away."
Pacey swallowed loudly. "Damn." He thought of Mera, in her room, solitary confinement. What must she be thinking, how must she be feeling after her earlier explosion? Could she understand what was happening to her?
"Pacey … I'll get a list of people to contact over there, and have it faxed to you. But please, please don't wait. This could just be the beginning of something very bad."
--------------------------
She didn't want to hurt Pacey. The last thing she ever dreamed of was deliberate action that would result in the destruction of Pacey's faith and trust in her – in the destruction of their little makeshift family unit.
But this was love. Mera told herself that, "love conquered all", therefore love came above all else. If a stupid rule on Pacey's part was going to deny her a chance at love – shouldn't she defy said rule? In the future, wouldn't Pacey forgive her anyway – when he realized how in love she was with Vartan, and how what he'd said could have ruined that?
"Thank goodness for your defiance," he would tell her, bestowing a hug. "I could have ruined your life!"
Alright, or perhaps she was overestimating Pacey and a possible reaction. Still, she had to have some excuse, some logical reason to be sneaking out of the house on this Saturday morning.
It was ten thirty in the morning, and she was going to meet Vartan and Jeff downtown, where she hoped Jeff would then leave them to their own devices for the movie. She had many possible outcomes to this scenerio too.
Mera made a lot of possible outcome lists – for everything from tests, to arguments, to questions. It was a way for her mind to feel organized – and she had recently adopted it as something to help. A disorganized mind – for her – was like a messy room to a neat freak. She absolutely needed to feel organized to do anything – to continue with her days.
So the possible outcomes helped. It also lessened the impact of a negative outcome. With her emotions running seemingly wild lately – she couldn't risk a blow out in a public area. Therefore, when she hypothesized a negative reaction, when/if it ever happened she was better equipped to deal with it.
But today she was happy – ecstatic even. She was going on her very first date. It was with Vartan O'Reilly, whom she thought absolutely divine. She was going to have her best friend there for morale support. And Pacey would never have to know – at least not yet.
First date. Jeff often told her she could not believe Mera had never been asked out before. That no guy had ever taken interest in her before enough to risk an ask-out. Truth was, though, guys had risked it, they had asked. But she'd always said no.
It wasn't as though the interest wasn't there – sometimes it was. But Mera simply believed that, like with her mother and Pacey, when true love arrived, she would know. She would be able to physically sense it in herself. And until then…
She had asked Joey about her mom and Pacey – what they had been like together, why they had parted. And though she remained mum on the parting element ("I really think Pacey should be the one to tell the stories…") she offered up bits of wisdom on her own life.
She loved talking to Mera about Dawson – about her growing up together, their joining with Pacey. Joey said that she had pretty much always been in love with Dawson Leery. But that she'd really shown and felt it in her 15th year. The group started high school, and Jen Lindley came to town – threatening any possibility with Dawson.
Year end, the two were together – though somewhat awkwardly. And though things had repeatedly pulled them apart – then back together again, bliss had ensued.
"I realized there was no running from my heart," Joey liked to tell Mera, her eyes dreamy and her voice far away. "I had always known."
It was this philosophy Mera based her own beliefs on. Joey was her confidant on matters of the heart. Asking Pacey would just have been too weird. Plus, he hardly ever openly spoke of her mother – and if she was his true love, as Joey and Dawson had told her, then he would not have been any help. As for dating advice, there had been an eager Jeff.
"Oh my god, Mera … have I got plans for you!" She had said repeatedly the day before. She outlined the whole dating experience – what to expect, what not to, and to do. Responses to frequently asked questions, and everything else.
The pretty brunette had dated for many years, on and off with boys who were jocks, science freaks, and even chess club members. If anybody could be qualified as an expert on dating, Jeff Cavanaugh at 16 could be that person.
That morning, Mera had made sure Pacey was out before leaving the house. She knew every Saturday he went to visit the members of the family he still communicated with – usually for at least a few hours.
Mera figured that since Pacey had not been in to check on her that morning – and had not come to ask if she wanted to come along – she was safe. He was probably still spooked over their argument the night before, and didn't want to push things. And if anything could be said about Pacey in a fight, it was that he definitely provided ample stewing time. In previous less dramatic squabbles, he always let Mera walk away angry – and let her be alone to herself until she decided to be social. By doing so, he made the decision hers – gave the power over.
Upon nearing the fountain at downtown Capeside's marina – Mera could see Vartan sitting against a brick column. He was dressed down, wearing casual slacks and a light blue plaid shirt. When he caught sight of Mera approaching, he stood up.
The expression on his face was one that confused her. As she got closer she could tell that he was nervous – more nervous than she felt. He kept clenching and unclenching his hands, brushing one back through his neatly styled hair.
Approaching from the other side, Mera spotted Jeff. She had on a summer dress, light and airy. She carried with her a small brown purse, and had gigantuous cowboy boots on her feet. Leave it to Jeff to create her own style.
The large smile on Jeff's face made Mera's heart slow. She focused on that, instead of Vartan's odd behaviour. Perhaps he was nervous – and realizing this (in effect, making himself extra nerved up). Or perhaps he'd never dated before either, and was worried about the outcome. Or maybe he realized he'd made a mistake in asking her out, and was going to tell her this.
No. No scenarios that were bad – no possible negative outcomes. Not today.
"Hey, Mera."
She'd reached Vartan before Jeff approached. He had almost appeared to have bowed his head, when speaking. Before she could reply, Jeff reached the two of them.
"Hello, guys!" She said, ecstatically. "Ready for some fun?"
Mera glanced at her. She felt her nerves kick in, felt something in her stomach grow tight. Maybe inviting Jeff hadn't been such a grand idea afterall. Maybe she wouldn't be able to take a hint and leave Mera with Vartan. Maybe she would ruin everything!
No. No negative thoughts. She couldn't let her emotions get the best of her, couldn't allow herself to be sucked into this.
Taking a deep breath, she said,
"Hi Jeff. How's your morning?"
"Alright," Jeff replied. She caught Mera's eye and waggled her eyebrows. "What time's your movie?"
"11:15," Mera replied. She glanced over at Vartan, who hadn't spoken a word since his initial greeting. His hands were still moving at 100 miles an hour. "Why so glum?"
Vartan suddenly came to face her. He stood close, within arms length of her. He looked up, his dark eyes meeting hers. For a split second, Mera saw guilt and reluctance within them.
"Mera," he began quietly. "I've got to tell you something."
Mera's heart sped up again, and simultaneously her stomach dropped. Here it comes. The speech. The "I don't actually like you," and "this is a huge mistake" spiel that would surely break her heart.
Her temper flared.
"Vartan…"
"No. I really need to tell you this. I'm sorry, I … I don't know how to say it, though. When you called yesterday to say we were on, I was so happy. I mean, I've thought about asking you out since we first met. But … I never got up the courage until this week. I was so happy…"
"And now you aren't?" There was no hiding the bitterness in her tone.
"God no, Mera. I still am … happy I asked. But, I was kind of curious as to why Pacey would change his mind so quickly. If he's anything like Doug – I knew it wasn't likely. So … I called him."
"You what?"
"I … this morning, I just wanted to make sure he was okay with us going on this date. I mean, I really like you, Mera. I didn't want to have Pacey resenting me right off, before we'd even had a chance."
"You suck!" Tears sprung to her eyes. "You went behind my back – to check up on me?"
"No. No, I … I just wanted to be sure, Mera. I'm sorry, but Pacey told me what happened…"
"He what?"
"He … said you'd had an argument. He told you no. You lied to me."
"And you didn't trust me. God, Vartan, this really pisses me off." Mera's voice was rising. People passing by were trying their hardest not to stop and stare their way.
Jeff, who'd been stationary the entire time, came over to stand between the sparring couple.
"Mera…" she began, warningly.
But the fire in Mera's eyes was evident. She was not backing down.
"You did not even trust me enough to take what I said at face value. That says a lot."
"It wasn't like that!" Vartan pleaded. "Mera, I really like you. I want to date you. But not behind your father's back."
"He is not my father!" She shrieked. "I don't have a father, I have no idea if I ever did. Pacey obviously doesn't trust me either."
"I trust you, Mera."
She spun around. Pacey was standing behind their group, his truck parked behind him. He had genuine concern on his face.
"Mera. Let's go home."
"No! Forget it, Pacey. I am not going anywhere with you. I came here to go on a date. A first date. And I will."
"Mera … c'mon, maybe this isn't the time." Jeff walked over, slinging her arms around Mera's shoulder.
But the rage would have none of it. Mera wriggled out of her embrace.
"Shut up, Jeff. This has nothing to do with you."
Jeff backed away, but Vartan remained close.
"Mera," he tried again. "I'm so sorry. I never meant to upset you. I want this date, god, I do. But not without Pacey's okay."
"Mera … come on. You aren't thinking straight. We'll g home and talk about this. Maybe I can be persuaded…" Pacey said, moving closer.
"It's too late, Pacey. It's too damn late for that. You've ruined it. You," she pointed at Vartan, "have ruined it. I don't even care anymore. I'm crazy, leave me alone."
"Mera McPhee!" Pacey said, his voice raised to match hers in its rage and volume. "Get over here. I'm not putting up with this crap. You need my help."
Mera stopped, laughed, then glanced at Pacey, eyes wet with tears. "Gosh, Pacey … you sound like a psycho. And the last thing I need right now is another crazy person in my life."
Pacey stopped walking, his heart stopped beating. For a split second, he was transported to the past … twenty-one years ago.
The blonde was Andie … in her second story bedroom. He was the pursuer – the boyfriend who refused to let go. Andie had been confused on the verge of a nervous breakdown. She had dumped him, believing he was the expendable part of her life. But he had not given up. A talking to by Dawson had led him to Andie's house, a single red rose. When she'd refused to acknowledge him, he had climbed the trellis outside of her bedroom window.
When she realized this – and once he'd professed his undying utter urgency to talk with her – she'd proclaimed him psycho. She had said the exact words her daughter was screaming, 21 years later.
Andie. No. The blonde girl "losing it" now wasn't his Andie. It was her daughter. And this time, he couldn't let her.
"Mera," he softened his voice. "Please, honey."
She began to cry. "Pacey … what's wrong with me? Am I going crazy? Am I losing my mind?"
"Mera, please. Come with me. We can talk, we'll figure this out. I want to help you."
She looked from Pacey to Vartan. Her mouth puckered, and she suddenly began to waver.
"I feel … I don't feel so…"
Vartan watched as she suddenly grew limp, her body collapsing before his eyes. He raced forward, arms outstretched, and Mera's body fell into them. Her eyes fluttered slightly before closing, her body limp on him.
When Pacey ran over, Vartan eagerly offered her up. He watched as the man cradled her, holding her close as he walked back to his truck.
As he watched, Vartan couldn't help but think that Mera had been wrong in at least one thing she had said that morning.
She may not have shared his genes, but Pacey was still every bit her father.
--------------------------
Light fluttered in and out – a butterfly's custard yellow wings. The darkness that had seemed to forever bind her was lifting. A vision came into focus, pale colours, soft walls, a concerned face.
"Pacey?"
Pacey lifted his head. He hadn't been sleeping – how could he at a time like this? – but he had still had his head bowed. He wasn't' praying to a specific god or any divinity. He had simply been hoping, wishing for the young girl that lay in the bed before him.
"Hey, doll." His voice was barely above a whisper. He wasn't sure whether to speak up, or speak softer. When his voice came, the tone was as much a surprise to him.
Mera blinked rapidly. Along with the brightness of the day came memories. They flooded back to her at a speed she could not comprehend. She had said awful things, had done awful things. She had made an idiot out of herself in front of the people she loved – the person she had potential to love.
"Pacey, I'm an idiot," she whispered, tears springing to her eyes. "I'm sorry…"
Pacey leaned in closer, bringing his hand to Mera's face. He brushed at the tears that had begun to fall, cupping her chin in his hand. "No, Mera, honey. You aren't an idiot – you could never be."
She looked up at him, eyes wide and glimmering. "But I … I made such a fool out of myself. I … I snapped, Pacey, I lost control and I can't take that back."
"I know, babe," he told her. "Sometimes we do things … and sometimes we may feel we have no control. But what's done is done. It's in the past."
Mera had a sudden flash of Vartan – eyes wide as she screamed at him. Yet not once had he raised his voice to her. Not once had he said a fowl thing…
"God, Vartan. He probably thinks I'm a total freak. He'll never speak to me again…"
"Are you kidding, Mera?" Pacey asked. "Man, I practically had to beat that kid off with a stick. He insisted a ride back here with you and I. Then he wouldn't leave your bedside. Had it come down to it, the stick might have been the only way out."
"He … he came here?"
"Yes! He was worried sick about you. Trust me, there was no mention of freakdom. I had to promise him you'd call when you were up."
"He isn't mad at me?"
"Mad? No, Mera. I don't think that was his top emotion. Worried, perhaps. He," Pacey let out a laugh. "I think that kid's hopelessly in love with you. And I … I'm sorry for almost ruining that."
"Pacey … you didn't. I did. I'm the one who didn't listen to your rules. I…"
"The rule was stupid, Mera. It was an idiotic decision on my part."
"Then why?" Mera asked, innocence in her eyes. "Why did you make it?"
"I…" he sighed. "It has to do with me. With my own stupid hang ups, with my history. And with…"
"…my mother," Mera finished. "You don't have to say anymore."
"No." Pacey replied, firmly. "I want to. I've kept things locked up long enough. I neglected to tell you things, and … and today I could have lost you." Tears now wet his eyes. "I can't take that chance anymore."
"You loved her?"
Pacey shook his head, a smile playing on his lips. "Mera … I loved her like there was no tomorrow. What I felt for your mother … I can't even describe it to you."
"When … when did you know?"
"The day I met her. A million summers ago, we were both young, she was 16, and I was almost there. She looked every bit as you do today … blonde hair that seemed to dance in the sunlight. Blue eyes that sometimes shifted a grin hue. God, she was beautiful…"
Mera smiled. "I know. I saw photos." She reached over, and pulled Dawson's photo from the dresser drawer. "Don't be angry at Dawson. He gave this to me a while ago."
Pacey studied the photograph, his face lighting up at the sight. "Andie." He whispered, fingering the photo. He handed it back to her. "Mera, I've been a major idiot. I never should have kept things from you, but I have. I've refused to talk about Andie … about your mother, about what she meant to me, and what we had. I … I made stupid rules about your life and what you could and couldn't do. I never realized … never realized that it was actually hurting you. I loved your mother so much…"
"And I think I love Vartan. I know there's something…"
"It's love. Trust me, he looks at you the way I looked at Andie. Love. I guess I tricked myself into believing that I was helping you. That if I prevented you from discovering true love, I could save you from the hurts. From the sheer pain, and the crushing guilt."
"Pacey…"
"No. Your mother … Andie died because of my love for her. I … I could very well be responsible for her death, for your orphanage, for everything." He'd begun to cry.
"No, Pacey." Mera hugged the comforter in closer to her body. "Don't say that. You didn't kill my mother. You didn't give her a terminal illness."
Pacey shook his head. "There's so much I need to tell you, so much that I need to clear up. I can't even begin to…"
"Try Pacey, please. I don't understand this. I don't understand what you're saying, I can't … I can't make sense of what's happening to my body and my mind. Am I crazy?"
"Mera … there's so much behind that question. So much suffering and hurt."
"Tell me."
"When I met Andie … that first day, her sheer spirit and peppiness was what attracted me to her. I had never met someone who caught my attention without so as much trying at all. She … god, she was a wonderful soul.
"But after we started dating, I noticed something. She was very emotionally at times, and sometimes little things would send her into hyperactive mode. This would have been highly unusual, but considering her family…"
"Uncle Jack?" Mera questioned.
Pacey shook his head. "You have another uncle. Tim was Andie and Jack's older brother. He was killed in a car accident shortly before they moved to Capeside. But your grandma … she never got over the guilt of the accident. She had been driving. Jack and Andie were devastated, too. But your grandmother … went off the deep end. She had to be constantly monitored, and was heavily medicated. She saw Tim everywhere, believed that he was still alive."
"And my mother? Was she okay?"
"For a while, yes. But she was the glue that held her family together. She had to play the mature mother figure, since her mother was not mentally stable enough. And that got to her."
"Was she sick too? Sick like I am?"
Pacey thought back to his 16th year. He thought of Andie's slow decline. At first it had been little things … a twitch here or there. But it had rapidly escalated. Before he knew it, he was confronting Andie at her home – locked in the bathroom with a vision of her dead brother Tim. He had been able to coax her out, but – mentally drained – she'd nearly collapsed. He had comforted her after the fact … she in her bed, beneath the covers – small and confused.
Just like Mera now. Mera – the daughter she never got to watch grow up. Never got the pleasure of raising, of loving and guiding.
Pacey relayed this to Mera. He told her how Andie's final break down had prompted her father's decision to send her away for help. How, over that summer, Andie had been confused and had made some mistakes.
"She had an affair?" Mera asked, matter-of-factly.
Pacey nodded. "Yeah. And when she returned, I couldn't forgive her for it. She made one big mistake, but I couldn't see past it. That was when we drifted apart. Those were the tough times."
He relayed how they had graduated together, and how Andie had disappeared. He'd foolishly convinced himself that she had gone off to a superior school.
"She didn't…" Mera submitted, getting a feel for the story's direction.
"No. She moved out to Providence. There on in, I don't know the exact details. I was still here in Capeside, but she had gone to create a life for herself without me."
"With my father?" Mera questioned, tentatively.
Pacey clenched his jaw, and for a moment, Mera was afraid he wouldn't answer. When he did, his voice was low.
"Yes. She married Ralston Mackey. He was from a prominent family, I suppose they moved in together. She was twenty-one years old when you were born. Mera Timothy McPhee. I assume the Timothy was for your Uncle Tim … as well as the cartoon mouse in Dumbo. She loved that movie…" his eyes shone once, before the dull indifference returned.
"Mera … I can't say anything about your father that I don't know. I wasn't there when he married Andie. I wasn't there when you were born, or when you took your first steps."
Mera forced a smile. "Did he love me, Pacey?"
"I … I don't know, Mera. I can't imagine him not. You were a well-behaved little girl. But he…" Pacey's mind reeled, editing his words before they were spoken. "He did some things to your mother. He didn't treat her the way he should have. The way I'd have treated her."
"He didn't love her?"
Pacey shrugged. "I don't know that for sure. Maybe he did. Perhaps he just had a funny way of showing it … a cruel streak."
"Did he at least care when she was dying? Or was that when he left?"
Pacey licked his lips. He thought about Jen's words to him, "the longer she goes on believing a lie, the longer you'll have deceived her."
"Mera. Your mother didn't die of a terminal illness. I … I lied to you."
"You lied? You deceived me about my own mother? You had no right, Pacey!" She tore the covers off her bed, prepared to sit up. But when she looked into his eyes, when she was preparing to be angry – she couldn't. She saw Pacey's troubled expression. She saw the pain and guilt written on his face, the effort it had taken him to get this far. "I'm sorry."
"No, I'm the one should be sorry. I … I didn't know what to do. You were beginning to ask me questions, and I had no idea how to answer them. I should have asked for help but … I didn't. I was scared. When I adopted you, the doctor at the orphanage suggested therapy. He thought you could benefit from that type of help … thought I could too, after everything…"
"But you disagreed."
"No, not so much. I … I didn't want to accept help. You were two years old, Mera. Both your mother and grandmother had a mental illness. I knew the research on heredity links. I knew it could happen. But I refused to believe it. I fooled myself into believing that if I ignored it, if I ignored the warning signs … maybe I could prevent it. I could spare you the pain and the hurt. But…"
"Didn't work," Mera filled in, sadly. "It caught up with me."
Pacey nodded. "Yeah. I guess it did. Maybe if I'd have accepted help early on…"
"No. You can't think like that, Pacey. You did the best you could. My mother … she would have been proud, I think."
"And I know she would have been proud of the woman you're becoming. She loved you so much … that I do know for sure."
"Then why did she leave, Pacey? How did she die?"
"She died at home. I had come … into town a few days earlier, saw how Ralston was treating her. I thought maybe I could play superhero – take you and her away from it."
"If things were that bad ... why didn't she leave?"
"I don't know for sure," Pacey said, shaking his head. "I asked her that myself. She said she tried – she had taken you away on numerous occasions. Told me that you stayed in motels for a while – but she always went back."
Mera absorbed the information. The "vacations" she had remembered – they hadn't been fun retreats at all. They had been her mother's attempts to escape an abusive man. They'd been her pleas.
"Did he do it?" Mera's voice was barely audible. She did not want to ask the question, didn't want to know the answer. But she felt it was necessary. And somehow, she knew what the answer would be. "Did my father kill my mother?"
Pacey breathed a loud sigh. "It's more complicated than that, Mera. You were at the babysitters that morning – Andie had decided to accept my offer to take you both with me to Capeside. I had gone to get her when … Ralston came home. There … was a struggle, he pulled out a gun on me. Andie went into combat mode, dove to shield me, and … the shot hit her."
Mera began to cry again. "She died … to save you?" She asked, through the sobs.
Pacey nodded. "I … I never understood why. I mean, obviously she was protecting me, but…"
"She loved you," Mera said, simply, her voice even. "She still loved you, and would do anything for you. She saved your life – so you could save mine."
Pacey stared at the young girl before him. She was just barely out of childhood … sixteen years old. She had recently suffered the effects of a mental breakdown in front of her best friend and a boy she thought she loved.
To top it all off, she had just been told that her mother had not died peacefully, as she'd been led to believe. Her own father had been responsible for the death of Andrea McPhee. Her own father had been the one to rob her of a "normal" childhood. Of a mother, and a father.
And yet, Pacey watched in astonishment as Mera reached over to embrace him. After everything – all the potentially life crushing truths she had been told in the past half hour – Mera was trying to comfort him. She was jumping to his defense, ensuring that he was okay.
She truly was a remarkable girl.
"Mera … I'm sorry for keeping this from you. For being so closed off all these years. Andie was your mother, you have a right to know about her life – to know the truth."
"Pacey … it's okay. It's not your fault. You tried to help us – tried to give my mother a better life. She crushed yours, but you still tried to better hers. For that alone, you are awesome."
Pacey reached over and took Mera into his arms. He glanced at her face as he did so, and realized something. Despite their similarities, Mera McPhee was not her mother. She was indeed Andrea McPhee's daughter, that was evident. But she wasn't Andie at all. She was her own person. She had Andie's strength, Andie's compassion and her perseverance. But she wasn't Andie.
As the two embraced, Pacey saw tears silently slip down Mera's face. They were the broken hearted, and finally they could grieve.
"Pacey…" Mera said, her voice muffled slightly by his shoulder.
"Yeah?"
"What's going to happen now?"
As he held his daughter close, Pacey realized he could lie to her no longer. He took a deep breath, and exhaled the truth.
"I don't know, Mera. I don't know."
Fin.