*~* Stepping Stones *~*

I. Two Steps Forward

Pacey sauntered through the front doors just before the last bell, ducking as a blue streamer sailed toward his head. Based on the sheer volume, it seemed as if a mutant birthday party or ticker tape parade had vomited in the corridors of Capeside High. He cringed slightly and began to calculate the easiest and most inconspicuous way to limit his exposure to today's festivities.

After all, he had an important package to pick up.

He had a little more purpose in his life these days but - not surprisingly - it had nothing to do with these hallowed halls. Finally, that knot of disappointment and pain in his guts over his break up with Andie was beginning to loosen its tight grip. The dread, the one that had flooded back into his consciousness moments after waking each day, had become instead a little gurgle of excitement.

What wonders the love for a new lady wrought!

And what a beauty she was! In his mind's eye he envisioned her, sleek and strong, her decks as smooth as glass. Sure, she was a little rough around the edges right now maybe, but nothing that couldn't be fixed given some time and effort.

He had been surprised, astounded even, when Doug had asked him if he was interested. Very un-Dougie-like. He was pretty sure if he had approached Doug instead of the other way around, his interest would have been met with skepticism and derision. But not only had Doug introduced him to the boat's savior but he had discreetly inquired as to whether he needed help with the financing. Wary at first, Pacey wondered what the catch was but the moment he had seen that beauty, he was sold.

Doug's friend had given him free rein to work on her where she stood in exchange for helping around the yard where she resided. And that's exactly what he did, going there directly after school every day that he didn't have a shift at Screenplay.

He smiled to himself remembering the first day he'd approached her, his heart lighter than it had been for a while. He'd paused far enough away so he could see every bit of her and considered.

She needed a name. Something honest, inspirational, and worthy of her beauty.

Something that, although it currently seemed to be out of his reach, he believed in and his heart ached for.

It took only a few minutes of studying her from afar before he'd settled on the perfect, albeit a little schmaltzy, name and had set about making arrangements for a hand-painted name plaque.

The important package? Well, it had finally come and he couldn't wait to get his hands on it. Today was the day he was picking up that very plaque from the post office.

So far, he hadn't told anyone about his after-school project. Although he and Dawson had declared a "guy truce," Pacey figured if he shared this news with him he would probably only get a vacant nod and, if he was lucky, an insincere, "Really?"

Also, if he was honest with himself, he was still stinging a little from Dawson's accusations; especially since it wasn't the first time he had revealed what seemed to be his true feelings toward Pacey's character. No, he'd revel in the thrill of this new venture quietly right now.

He slid into his usual seat in homeroom just as his name was called. "Here," he murmured, raising his hand briefly.

No sense in getting marked absent. Cardinal rule of skipping school? Show up for homeroom and let the record show you in attendance. After that… well, by the time they figured out you'd missed a class or two the school day was over. After all, you could be anywhere - guidance counselor, nurse, with the coach - legitimately. Right?

The bell rang signaling the end of homeroom. Three minutes to make his escape under the cover of the crowd before first period started. Heading out of the classroom, Pacey caught sight of a sheaf of brown hair swinging with purpose toward her first class.

Suddenly inspired to share the secret of his new love with someone who just might understand what it was to have a dream, he grabbed the life-sized cutout of Mr. Minuteman and in a few strides snuck up behind Joey Potter.

If he pushed the right buttons, hopefully it wouldn't take a lot persuasion to get her to be his partner in crime for the day and cut class. Sharing secrets aside, he could use a hand getting those decks as smooth as glass and Potter had never been one to shy away from a little hard work.

*~*

II. One Step Back

Joey leaned forward watching her childhood flicker across the screen. Her small smile faded to something more pensive – something edged in a shimmer of pain, the ache bittersweet - at her mother in motion.

She remembered that time so clearly.

Sunny summer days, Gale and her mom with a tray of ice tea, chatting and laughing, while they kept a watchful eye on them. A sudden longing spiked through her causing her throat to constrict and her breath to catch in her chest.

Just what were Dawson's motives? Was the tape a straight-forward gift? An overture toward reconciliation? A nostalgic reminder of relationships lost? Or, as he said, was it a thank you for advice asked and answered?

Eyes still tracking the images on the TV, she sighed. Working on that post-iceberg Titanic of Pacey's had been therapeutic. Even annoying as Pacey was, his company was familiar. She'd been able to tune everything out and let her hands take over in the rhythmic movements as they caressed and molded the weathered wood, giving it a new lease on life. For once, she didn't have to ponder or wonder or worry.

There was nothing to figure out and analyze.

For that short period of time, she could focus on the task before her and she didn't have to feel anything bar the transformation of the planks beneath her hands.

Wistfully, she imagined a magic sanding block that would transform her life, particularly her love life. One that would smooth things out between her and Dawson and somehow mend the brokenness between them.

He had said that he and Eve were no longer speaking. He had asked for her advice. He had given her a gift. Did it mean anything? Did she want it to? Her teeth scraped her bottom lip, chewing a little as she considered.

"Bye, Joey."

"Bye, Dawson."

The small voice of her former self echoed and resonated in the present.

The tape came to its end, leaving the screen black.

Was it the black of nothingness or a clean slate of unlimited possibilities?