Throughout their lives, Dawson had always been the one to come after her, to see if she was all right, bringing solace with his words and shared empathy. So when Joey looked up to see him standing above her, sympathetic and concerned, she was not surprised. Yet she did not feel the usual relief or comfort. When he crouched to level their gazes, linking their eyes in the here and now, she found herself slipping into a memory from before instead.

Dawson's question recalled a similar inquiry, more a statement, from earlier that morning, when she was standing, uncertain, before a pantry door, clutching a trash bag in her hand. Talk to me, Jo. From there, the memory glided to the night before, into that pantry with another boy, any talking, superfluous. And then, to this barn, in those shadows, just over Dawson's shoulder, by that corner against the wall, that other boy and her, caught up in each other. These brief flashes unexpectedly freed her from that earlier oppressive confusion. She decided that now was the right moment to tell Dawson. So she opened her mouth to let the words spill out. But in the instant they would have emerged, a pair of warm lips came closer to brush hers, thus, averting disclosure.

As Dawson's lips touched hers the contact brief, an instant only she froze, surprised. And then, on reflex, she pushed at his chest, so hard, she tumbled back off the stool as he plopped backwards on his ass, landing heavy on his tailbone. He grunted in pain and then rolled over, wincing.

"Jesus, Jo," Dawson muttered, closing his eyes against the sharp, intense tingling in his lower back.

Meanwhile, Joey sat sprawled, not too far from him, astonished. "I'm…uh…I'm sorry," she apologized, automatic, but her thoughts were conflicted. Though she felt bad for unintentionally injuring Dawson, she did not regret pushing him away. She was going to tell him, those flashes of memory reinforcing her resolve, her previously shackled words on the verge of release. She had not expected him to try to kiss her. This complicated things. "Um…are you okay?"

Dawson rolled up to sitting, grimacing as he reached back to rub his hurt area behind. "I'll survive." He tossed her an injured glance. "Why'd you push me so hard?"

"I…you startled me," Joey replied. "Why'd you try to kiss me?"

"I got caught up in the moment," he explained, recalling his own flash of memory. Look at that girl, Dawson. Just take a good look. She's a freaking goddess, man! that boy who noticed everything had said last winter, as dancing pairs swirled all around them at the Starlight Dance Studio. "You just looked so beautiful, sitting there, the sunlight on your face, and your eyes so far away. It seemed like a great idea, at the time." Noting her less-than-transported expression, he chuckled ruefully. "Obviously, not such a great idea, after all."

"Not so much, no," Joey answered quickly.

"Why not, Jo?" Dawson asked, caught by her resolute tone.

She looked right at him then, into his cornflower blue eyes, read the puzzlement there, and for once, did not flinch from it. "Because we're best friends, Dawson. We've worked so hard to get back to this. I really don't want to ruin it."

Dawson gazed back at her, his bemusement lingering, but the truth of her words forced a grudging acknowledgement. Though he knew their bond was inviolate, the dynamics between them had shifted and changed throughout the year. And it had been a long journey back to this more comfortable connection between them. It had been wrong of him to rush the process now evolving.

So Dawson sat forward now, resting his elbows on his bent knees, contrite. "I'm sorry, Joey. You're my best friend, too. And that's the most important thing in the world to me. It was a crazy impulse, okay? Can you forgive me?"

Joey shifted so that she was sitting with her legs crossed in front her, hands resting in her lap. Looking at Dawson's face now, into those earnest eyes, she remembered their first meeting in the Leery front yard when he was a shy five-year-old and she, a prickly little girl of the same age. At that point in their childhood, the future was long and bright, blissful ignorance sheltered her from disillusionment, and tragedy was still unknown and unthinkable.

"Of course I can, Dawson," Joey said, accepting his apology. "Our friendship means everything to me, too. You know that. I just don't want us to lose each other. That's all. I…we…need more time to figure all of this out, don't you think?"

All things worth having in a lifetime require patience and work to attain. It was a lesson ingrained in Dawson from birth, repeated to him frequently throughout the years by his father. So he had learned to take things as they would come, falling back to let circumstances precede him so he could analyze and figure out his intentions, to provide stronger foundations for action, carefully storyboarding his progress forward.

But different words had inserted themselves just now. You're gonna take it as it comes. Oh great, well perhaps you should start figuring out right now because the guy that comes along is not gonna be your best friend and he's not gonna ask for your permission. The guy that comes along is gonna take one look at that woman and then just cut right in on ya. Pacey's words had riled him then. But his words from the night before, What if she falls in love with someone else? had urged him ahead just now. Yet the timing was all wrong. He could see it in her face, wary and shuttered. He needed to fix this.

"Like I said yesterday, growing up does not have to equal growing apart," Dawson continued, bringing a reassuring tone to the conversation, his eyes intent on hers. "I have faith in us, Joey. It's the one thing I will always be sure of – you and me. Best friends forever."

Joey stared at this boy who had always created illusions she could get herself lost into, optimistic panoramas of the way life should be – full of promise and comfort, even love. Whenever she looked at Dawson, she saw herself as she had wanted to be – an idealist looking out on a world full of dreams that could actually come true. She wanted that world too, but hers was so much darker, full of unrelieved misfortune and heartbreak. The Leerys had opened up their doors to her, ushering her into a different place, an alternate life, and when she did not know how to create her own world of light for herself, Dawson became that whole world for her.

"Best friends forever," she echoed back to him, sending him a wistful smile.

And in that moment, they were children again, up in the loft above, etching that eternal decree onto the timber ledge at its opening, sprawling outward beneath their feet. The words hovered there, scrawled in that wood, still. Another memory resurfaced in Joey's mind. A breezy spring day during which their mothers spent an afternoon laughing over shared reminiscences from high school, lying on their backs on a plaid blanket just below them, giggling like schoolgirls. Best friends themselves since almost birth, they were daughters of mothers who had also been best friends before that. She and Dawson were the third generation of this unbroken chain of best-friendships. But she was a girl, and he was a boy. And there was a third person in this version of that long lineage of intertwined destinies.

"Do you need me to talk to Pacey, Jo?" Dawson asked, interrupting her pensive meditations.

"What?" she asked, blinking back to attention. "Talk to Pacey? Why?"

"About what happened out there on the porch. He must have said something pretty awful to get you so upset."

"Um…no," Joey said, throwing out a little laugh, hoping it sounded dismissive. "You don't need to do that, Dawson. It's fine."

"I know he can get to you pretty bad sometimes," Dawson continued, his tone sympathetic. Then, he chuckled. "And here I thought you two were getting along so much better these days."

"We were. Are," Joey amended. "But there are definitely times that I can barely stand to be in the same room with him," she added, dropping her eyes down to her lap. She let her long dark hair fall forward to hide the slight blush she knew was creeping into her cheeks, as an entire slew of expanded reasons for her more recent discomfiture around Pacey flitted through her mind.

"Despite your assertions to the contrary, Joey, some things never change," Dawson laughed, shaking his head in amusement. "Though I have to admit that you've come a long way from being that girl who so adamantly refused to let her lips find Pacey's in Sea Creature from the Deep. You definitely had kissing lips earlier, and though I know I've apologized, and I'll drop the subject after this, you did look like you wanted to be kissed. Perhaps it was a trick of the light?" he asked, gently teasing, wanting to rewind to that awkward moment and play it forward, with better consequences.

"Perhaps," she concurred, smiling at Dawson, keeping the tone between them, light and jovial.

He was right. She had wanted to be kissed. But not by him. With Dawson sitting before her, attempting to get them back on a better track and Pacey, somewhere outside, probably stewing over their own off-track encounter, that knowledge offered her neither relief nor comfort, leaving only newfound anxiety. They heard the sound of a truck pulling up into the driveway outside. Dawson got to his feet and then held out his hand to help Joey up to hers. "Must be Aunt Gwen getting back. So are you coming with us to the arts and craft fair?"

"Maybe for a little bit," she said, taking his hand and letting him tug her to standing. "Might be good for me to get away for awhile." Dawson held her hand for a second longer than was comfortable, given the circumstances just past, so she squeezed it, firm, and then quickly slid her fingers out of his grasp.

Dawson released them without resistance, again bemused. He recalled the night before, when Joey stepped so swiftly from his brief embrace. Unbidden, the vague uneasiness from his own porch encounter with Pacey returned. A. J. had been the topic of discussion, but in spite of himself, he wondered again if Pacey actually had been alluding to something else. Traces of a past fury, ignited while standing eye to eye with Pacey in that dance studio, flickered now, briefly. The last time he had jumped to that conclusion, it had been such a huge mistake.

Just as he and Joey were only at the beginning of this renewed connection between them, so were he and Pacey poised to deepen their own friendship beyond childhood pacts. He needed to stay focused on the visions that were real, and not cast any further aspersions on these two. So he ruthlessly squelched those disconcerting thoughts, resolving again to make no more mistakes, moving forward. This was real three best friends, finally growing up, together. The rest would fall into place, in time.

When they went outside to meet the others, Andie and Will were just returning from an apparent jaunt in the woods, laughing and sparring as if they had been doing it for ages. Aunt Gwen had already brought her paintings into town earlier that morning, so she stuck her head out the driver's window and cheerfully exhorted everyone to "hurry up, let's go!" They were already bundled into Dawson's Ford Explorer – Aunt Gwen and Dawson in the front; she, Andie, and Will in the back – when Joey realized they were leaving Pacey behind.

"He wants to stay here and finish up the morning chores," Dawson told them as he slid into his seat, buckling himself in, having just come from the kitchen, where he had gone to fetch their absent friend. "But then again, he wasn't that interested in coming anyway."

"All right then. Off we go!" Aunt Gwen declared, shifting the Explorer into drive and pulling away from the cottage.

Joey had wanted to stay. But she did not want to garner any strange comments or raise unnecessary suspicions by asking to be left behind also. She felt Will's glance on her face, so she turned slightly to give him a little smile, accompanying it with a shrug. He sent her a sympathetic half-smile before turning to answer yet another query about Alan J. Pakula's movie, All the President's Men from Andie on his other side. Dawson fiddled with the car radio, settling on a soft rock station that primarily played love songs by early 1980s stadium rock bands, before turning to add his opinions to the film discussion beginning to take shape behind him. Aunt Gwen sang along to "Beth" by KISS, now playing on the radio. "Beth, I hear you calling, but I can't come home right now…" She had a low, melodious voice that added, more than detracted, to the song.

Joey stayed silent, staring out the window, watching all the trees rush by, as the Explorer zoomed past. She was thinking again about first encounters. Not too long after the day she met Dawson on the Leerys front yard, she met Pacey one morning as he "guarded" the restricted side door of the enormous tent covering the famous Capeside rose gardens. The tent housed a special exhibit of exotic butterflies, on loan from the Boston Museum of Natural History. A smartass even at five years old, he had teased her mercilessly from their first introduction, while a fifteen-year-old Doug scowled his disapproval and her mother laughed, chucking him playfully on his chin as she scolded him with a smile. Pacey had dared her to sneak into that tent with him, when Doug went off to guide her mother to the restrooms, ignoring that older boy's admonitions to "stay right here and do not move a muscle!"

They had gone inside, careful and quiet, and she remembered how magical it looked, those butterflies fluttering everywhere, a vibrant, living fantasyland of colors flashing all around, alive and thriving. Awed by the sight, they stood there, surrounded by a bustling beauty, so overcome, they did not realize they had reached for each other's hands, simultaneously. For a moment, their small hands interlocked into a perfect, stunned accord. That accord did not last, of course, for as soon as Pacey realized that she knew Dawson too, that she was in fact coming along to the Leery house later that afternoon, enmity locked into place instead, continuing unabated, until now.

Two Capeside boys had crossed her path at nearly the same time. One boy created a horror movie about a sea creature, yet continually insisted that beneath the surface, it was all about true love. The other one, the sea creature himself, burst forth from beneath that surface, grabbing her to pull them both down into the swirling waters of a great unknown, forcefully inserting his presence, regardless of timing or storyline. These three, their paths criss-crossing each other, remained inextricably entwined. Joey had no idea how to disentangle them, and did not know if she should even try.

XXXXX

The sun setting over the town's annual arts and crafts fair signaled the end of yet another fine celebration of its creativity and entrepreneurship. Joey was restless. She had been, all afternoon. Andie and Will had gone about, together, gleefully soaking up the quaint local flavor, stopping at every booth, playing impromptu games with many of the children, scattered all about.

She and Dawson had browsed at their usual booths, picking up trinkets, on request, for their friends and family back in Capeside – some crystal jewelry, homemade apple butter, locally-harvested honey, beeswax candles. Every spring, this was their ritual, and this one would be the last. Dawson reveled in the experience, savoring these "final rites of our childhood," as he had declared, upon their arrival. The notion should have saddened her, she knew, but she was not sad. She was anxious. She wanted the afternoon to end so that she could go back to the cottage, to the unfinished business that awaited her there, probably bored out of his mind.

"Joey, do you mind going over to help Aunt Gwen pack up while I go find Andie and Will?" Dawson asked her, already starting to stroll away toward the thick of a slowly dispersing crowd. "By the way, we're getting dinner here in town before we go back."

"Sure, Dawson," she replied automatically, though she frowned immediately after her assent. Dinner in town would keep them here yet another two hours or so. Her restlessness grew exponentially.

"Could you grab those over there?" Aunt Gwen asked, pointing to a few smaller canvases propped up on a folding chair. "Those are the last of the paintings."

Joey picked up the canvases, binding them securely, and then followed Aunt Gwen to the Explorer, parked just several yards away. Aunt Gwen placed them carefully into the back of the truck with the rest of her remaining unsold paintings.

"I guess I'll have to bring the rest of these with me when I move. Are there any you would like to keep, Joey? I already gave Dawson the one of you two, last night. By the way, now that we're alone, I didn't get a chance earlier to tell you-"

"-Did you give Dawson that painting of us, right after I left the room last night?" Joey asked, interrupting, caught on the statement just uttered, recalling Dawson's profile in that studio room, staring rapt at that painting in his hands.

"Yes, I did," Aunt Gwen replied.

"I wish you hadn't done that."

Aunt Gwen stopped and looked at her, contemplative. "Why?"

"Dawson and I worked really hard to get our friendship back, Aunt Gwen. That kind of thing could only hurt him."

Watchful now, Aunt Gwen asked, "What kind of thing is that, Joey?"

"False hope! Wrong-headed illusion! Anything like that will get him hurt in the long run," Joey threw out, flustered now, wondering if perhaps this was the impetus that propelled Dawson's attempt to kiss her earlier.

"Are you going to hurt him, Joey?"

"No! Of course not." Joey exclaimed. Then, more quietly, "I don't want to."

"Is this about Pacey?"

Aunt Gwen's question brought back to her mind, last night's interruption of that first kiss with Pacey in the yard. At least now I understand why you and Dawson aren't together. Caught by surprise, her own feelings still uncertain, she had felt vulnerable then, ashamed, standing before Aunt Gwen's assessing gaze, fielding her probing questions, alone. What if that had been Dawson that had seen you and not me? I mean, do you think he'd ever be able to erase that from his mind? But this question, now, generated anger instead.

"You don't know Pacey, Aunt Gwen!" Joey spat out, defensive, her tone strident. "I mean, he can be totally irritating and exasperating and sometimes, believe me, he's a real ass." Her restlessness was spilling out now in these words, the anxiety pushing them outward. "But he's also kind and sweet and funny, when he wants to be. And he's loyal and supportive and smart." She faltered a bit, taking a short breath before continuing. "He can fix up broken things. And make you feel better, when things are messed up all around you." With a small laugh, her voice drifted down to softness. "He'll drive three hours in the middle of the night to pick you up at an empty train station. Just because you asked him to." Her next few words seemed wrenched from her. "Simply because you need him to."

Aunt Gwen just stared. Joey's gaze was identical to the one coming from that boy seated next to her, the night before. Once more, Aunt Gwen thought this is real. She did not know which was better – finding that realness later in life, at least for a short time, after being oblivious for so long. Or finding it sooner, so very early, thus more vulnerable to all of the obstructions down that much longer road ahead.

Her own memories came fast upon the heels of this resurrected musing. Memories can be faulty, she surmised. Sometimes you fasten the wrong meanings onto your recollections. She had closed her eyes to see her future once, and she had painted it, just so, but a future cannot really become clear until it has wound its way through present realities. Looking into Joey's eyes now, she sensed a new understanding unraveling within her. Pacey and Richard were not dreamers; they were doers. There was a difference. And that difference meant everything. She smiled, wistful and a little sad.

In her own life, she had always been the little sister left behind. Born almost a full generation after her only other sibling, her older sister, Gail, she was the surprise child, and at ten years younger, she was the one who always came after. After the Homecoming Queen. After the football star's bride. After the creation of a perfect, golden child. After the fame of local TV news celebrity. So when she married at eighteen, wanting something in her life that was finally beforebefore college, before a life of being constant runner-up, before being left alone – she set out to live a life of her own before she even allowed herself to dream about it. And then she met Richard, the artist, the man who painted dreams. And she cast off before, stopped worrying about after, and grabbed onto now. And it had been the scariest, yet most sane, decision she had ever made.

"Come here, Joey," Aunt Gwen said, reaching out to her with one of her hands. Joey took it and came to stand before her. "I was out of line yesterday and I want to apologize. I forget sometimes that you and Dawson are no longer kids. When I was a teenager, I used to hate it when adults meddled in my business. And now, here I am, doing that very same thing." She sighed. "I guess I was re-living a dream." And then, more quietly, "I really miss Richard, you know. It's been a year, but it only seems like yesterday to me, that he was still here."

"I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier," Joey said, feeling contrite and a little guilty.

"I deserved it," Aunt Gwen said, with a tiny smile, reassuring her.

"You miss him a lot, don't you?"

"Every day. I think I miss Richard so much because it took me so long to let myself be open to finding him. But if I had never met him, or been with him, even for the short time we had…I can't even bear to think about that." Aunt Gwen smiled, her eyes shimmering with a true and genuine tenderness, deep and endless. "It was something real."

Joey squeezed Aunt Gwen's hand, comforting. Aunt Gwen sighed again and a tear fell, surprising them both. More tears followed. She sagged against the truck, suddenly crying. Joey stepped forward to put her arms around her. Out here, beneath a setting sun that was closing up a chapter in so many lives – not just Dawson's, but Aunt Gwen's too – Joey swallowed her own threatening tears, moved by that glimpse of something real that Aunt Gwen had just shared with her. She had yet to know how her own chapter was playing out, even now, but as she whispered consoling words to the older woman she held young yet, but still a grieving widow she closed her eyes and thought to herself, I need to get back to that cottage now.