AN: This little trip down memory lane is for my sometime nemesis, but, for the most part, my friend. Happy birthday, Jen!

Many thanks to ProfJMarie & JMHaughey for not laughing too hard at me when I sent this over for a beta read.

Never Been Down a Road That's Led Back To You

Joey watched with a regretful heart as the black coffin was lowered into the rectangular mouth of earth that soon swallowed what used to be him, whole. She threw a single red rose in after it and then turned and retook her place at the edge of the large gathering of mourners. The black of their clothes and the sadness they wore like a uniform bound them and erased for that moment, at least, their many differences. She felt, although from a place of distance, of resilience, their disbelief and their overwhelming sadness, as the breakwater that once held him close spilled out in an endless rush of nevermore. She looked at their faces and thought: this is what loving him looks like, and because Joey knew her face told a different story, she stood on the periphery of those mourning his loss, but still close enough, hopefully, to blend in.

Turning away for a moment, for a breath, she looked beyond the stain of black, which contrasted with the otherwise vibrant green landscape, and concentrated on the amber of the sun that reflected whole and wonderful against the slow-moving creek.

Home.

The early chords of his favourite song rang out and she felt it then - the pull. The pull back to where she didn't want to be, to a time she didn't want to remember. The fifteen year old 'her' felt her heart fall into a rhythm long forgotten. A memory. An echo. She almost smiled. This is what he would have wanted, but never once had he understood that her heart beat this way out of innocence and out of a longing to belong. Her chest rose and fell, and unbidden, she remembered him, remembered what he had once meant to her. In truth, not every memory was tainted or mired in regret, but retrospect cast its perspicacious eye over their shared past, and for the most part, she felt cheated and resentful.

"He never stopped loving you, you know? You were his soulmate." She felt someone reach for her hand and squeeze it tightly. She had to resist the urge to shake it free. She didn't want this. Not now. Not ever again.

"I loved him, too." She sighed; her mouth forming what she hoped was a genuine sad smile. It wasn't a total lie, because she'd loved him before she knew what love felt like.

"I don't know what I'm going to do without him. I really don't."

Joey looked into his mother's eyes and did the only thing she could, she hugged her, because she knew the other woman meant it. Dawson had been Gail's world from the moment he was born. She never could see past his failings, his purposeful weaknesses and hatreds, even when he sought to hurt those closest to him, even when he hurt her. Joey knew that not even the child Gail still had, who had followed her over and who was now standing beside her, lost, would provide comfort. It had always been all about Dawson. The fact that he was dead wouldn't change things.

"Hey, Lily," Joey whispered to the blonde teenager over Gail's shoulder.

Lily Leery smiled shyly and wiped away tears that refused to stop falling. "Come on, Mom. Please," she said, her voice shaky and small.

Reluctantly, Gail let her go, and Joey breathed a discreet sigh of relief. The moment the other woman had hugged her, she had felt it. The need. The dependence. The burden. She'd never noticed it before, and she'd hugged Gail plenty of times, but it was all there. It was a mirror image of the way she'd felt when holding her son.

"You've always been like a daughter to me, Joey. I hope you know that. So please don't be a stranger. You're all….you're all I have left of him now."

A practised look of hurt flashed in Lily's red-rimmed eyes, and Joey wasn't sure she'd ever felt so bad for someone as she did in that moment. She wanted to shake Gail and tell her to look at the child standing beside her. She wanted to tell her that no matter how many times she said it, Gail would never feel like mother to her. When her mom died, it was Bessie who straddled the role of mother and big sister, and every time Gail tried to claim her as her own, it was as though she was telling Bessie that she wasn't enough. And she was. She was, and as the years passed, she supported and loved her in ways Joey came to appreciate more and more.

The song finally finished, and she watched sadly as Lily led her mother away and into the throng of people who were now slowly starting to make their way back up the grassy incline to the small church which sat at the edge of the creek. It was over. She stood there listening to the quiet murmur of respectful, retreating voices, the late afternoon birdsong and the otherwise still, unapologetic silence that she missed so much since moving to New York. The sun started its descent and soon shadows of grey cast irregular patterns across the gravesite. It was finally, finally over. He couldn't hurt them anymore. She walked closer to his grave, which was now marked by a mound of earth and a white cross of roses. "Goodbye, Dawson", she whispered. "I hope you find peace". Then she walked away. She didn't look back because she knew he'd want her to.

~J&P 4EVER~

She couldn't get away fast enough. The drive from the church to the harbor took a little over twenty minutes, and the entire way there she kept her foot on the gas pedal and the windows down. The cool rush of air whipped her long brown hair viciously about her face, but it was worth it to feel the ghost of the day disappearing out of the windows. Pulling into the packed parking lot, she killed the engine and climbed out of the rental car. She didn't care about closing the windows, knowing that no harm would come to it. This was Capeside; nothing even approaching interesting ever happened here.

She spied the boat amongst the other bigger and grander vessels. Joey ran towards it, her feet clattering hard against the wooden slatted deck beneath her. She jumped the short distance from the dock onto the boat. Calling his name, she ducked into the cabin, only to find it empty. Maybe he'd gone for supplies? Maybe he was catching up with Doug, Jack and Amy? God, she just wanted him to be here. The only thing that kept her from losing it earlier was knowing that he was on his way. Exiting the cabin, she stood on the narrow deck, ran her hands through her tousled, tangled hair and pondered where she should try first.

"Hey, Potter."

Joey spun round, and for the first time that day smiled a smile that reached her eyes. He grinned back at her, his grey Bruins baseball cap hiding his blue eyes in shade, and she jumped off the boat and raced back down the dock. She flung herself into his arms, not caring that the bags of supplies he was carrying dropped to the ground and spilled their contents. He lifted her easily and spun her round, and as he did so she kissed him deeply, urgently. Because touching him was all she needed. As soon as her fingers made contact with his skin, she felt it, the pull. Only this time it was to somewhere she wanted to be, to someone she wanted to be, and was.

"How did it go," he asked when they finally stopped spinning, kissing and spinning again.

"It was horrible."

He nodded, and then continued, his tone serious. "I'm sorry I couldn't come with you, Jo."

"Don't be. Don't ever, ever, feel sorry." Joey cupped his cheeks with her hands and pleaded with him. "This is all on him. He was the one who ruined what was left of our friendships. He did that. He did that willingly."

"Still, I should've been there for you."

"You were. Believe me, Pace, you were."

"I don't understand," he said softly, before nudging her nose against his own, his lips then skimming hers before his tongue slid softly, deliciously inside. She knew he needed this contact because she needed it too. She gave herself over to his kiss, and just like that first time by the roadside that morning when he'd driven out to Boston to pick her up, it filled her up, made her feel alive. Finally breaking apart, she continued to hold his beautiful face in her hands while she tried to explain.

"You were there for me the way you always were. How I feel about you, how I know you feel about me, gave me the strength. Pace, you are always going to be the boy who pulled my pigtails and chased me around on the Leery's lawn for no other discernable reason other than to piss me off. You're the boy who believed in me, who bought me a wall and who loves my family like I do. You're the boy who taught me to drive, taught me that sometimes ditching school is the best kind of medicine and taught me that love is an act of free will. Pacey, you kissed me first, sweetheart."

"You know I only used to pull your hair because I liked you, right?"

She smiled because of course she knew that. But she recognised his patented interruption for what it was – an attempt at distraction. He never was any good at believing the good things. "Shh, I'm saying nice things about you. Don't interrupt me. You know that every time I think about Dawson, I think about the past. Well, I thought about the past during the service and then after at the graveside, and I remembered all the things that he worked so hard to try and make me forget. Because he was the boy that made me doubt that I'd ever know my own mind. He was the boy that loved me as it suited him. He was the boy who always wanted more of others than he was prepared to give of himself. He was the boy who painted you in the role of the enemy when all along he was the one with the black heart."

"Hey, I thought you were extolling my many virtues? My name didn't come up once then." This time she didn't comment when he interrupted her; she saw from the look on his face that he knew he was busted. He looked down, a shy smile playing on his lips. God, she loved him.

"Then I thought about the man he became - a manipulative, treacherous, selfish man. A man who tried to ruin us. A man who never once said sorry."

"I didn't give a fuck that he didn't apologise to me, but he owed you more than that."

"Pace, he owed us both." She looked into the blue sea of his eyes and willed him to see that he, too, had been wronged.

"You were the one that he…he…" She wanted to scream when the look that was equal parts hurt and anger flashed across his face, because it had been years since she'd seen it. Really, she hoped to go the rest of her life without seeing it again. "It was a kiss. A one-sided, horrible kiss," she said through clenched teeth.

"I should've kicked the shit outta him. The way he was grabbing you, the way he forced himself on you."

"Maybe, but I think I handled myself pretty well."

His face relaxed into a smile. "For a girl, you do throw a pretty mean left hook."

"Watch it, Witter."

"His giant head rocked back so hard, I thought you'd knocked it clean off his shoulders."

"Exactly, so tread carefully."

Pacey held up his hands, indicating that he was in no way looking for a fight. She grinned as those same hands then circled her waist, pulling her in close. "I love that you broke his nose," he whispered as his fingers played with the hem of her black fitted shirt. "I love that you knocked him on his baggy-panted ass." His fingers slid up and under the black material and then stretched across into the dip of her lower back. "I love that you threw that stupid necklace he gave you when you were kids back in his face. I mean, what teenage boy wears something like that!" His fingers traced lazy but purposeful patterns on her warm skin, and soon she was lost to his touch. He knew it, too. "I love that you threw him out of our house and told him never to come back."

"Pace…maybe we should move off this dock. Come on, let's go….let's…oh." His hands so warm, so practised, pulled her tight to him as he bent to kiss her neck. Brushing her long hair aside, his lips and tongue sent sparks, because they were never, ever in short supply, up and down her spine, and she clung to him, not caring who might be watching.

Then he stopped, but he never let her go. Holding her hand, he abandoned the plastic bags where they had fallen and tugged her along behind him. She smiled as they stepped onto their small boat. Sure, like before, the boat's name was high on the schmaltz factor, but they just didn't have the heart to call it anything else.

THE END

The name of their boat isn't the only thing 'high on the schmaltz factor, eh? ;)