-Chapter Thirteen-

Pacey could feel his heart beat rapidly between his ears. The pounding of blood, rushing through his veins, was making him sweat profusely. He felt light-headed and dizzy, trying with all his might to grasp the situation around him, but unable to do so as his captor dragged him deeper into the woods. The pain in his shoulder and arm was nearly unbearable and with each step he took, the weaker he felt.

But that ache was nothing compared to the agony he was experiencing not knowing what these men were doing to Joey and Jen. A few torturous images floated around in his mind causing him little comfort and even more pain. He had to find them. He had to save them from the awful images in his head. He had to save her.

Every once in a while he stole a glance over at Dawson as they walked through the trees, only to have his injured arm jerked painfully to the front, making it impossible to look right.

"Cortez isn't going to be happy when he finds out what we found on the beach," Dawson's captor with the scar on his bottom lip in the shape of a 'V' grumbled angrily.

"How long do you think they've been here?" the deep voice beside Pacey responded in annoyance.

"Couldn't have been over 2 days… Lopez was supposed to be on duty to watch for incidents like this."

'Lopez must not have been doing a very good job…' Pacey thought. 'Try two weeks.'

"Well, I don't know why we can't just shoot 'em now and get it over with," the man gripping Pacey's arm like a vice began irritably. "It's not like Cortez could get any use of the brats."

"Well maybe not of these chicos," smirked Dawson's captor. "But those bonitas were very sexy."

The way he rolled his tongue in a growl sent fire through Pacey. That was his girlfriend he was talking about. He had no right to talk about her like that – much less think about her in that way!

Without much thought, Pacey jerked his injured arm out of his captor's grip and tried to reach for his gun. His captor grabbed the gun before Pacey had a chance at it. It was up in the air when Pacey tackled him to the ground, successfully making the gun fly out of the assassin's hand. The agony coursing through Pacey's body made him involuntarily shake as he struggled with the dark man for dominance.

"HEY!" Dawson's captor yelled, releasing him to steady the gun he had with two hands.

A gunshot rang high through the air, paralyzing Pacey to the ground in fear. His captor appeared irate under Pacey, quickly getting up to grab the large rifle from his partner to seek revenge. He quickly lifted the back of his rifle and brought it down hard against the side of Pacey's face.

Suddenly, everything went black.

XOXOXOXOXOXO

"Pacey," a soft voice spoke urgently.

He struggled to open his eyes, but the sharp pain behind his head was making it nearly impossible.

"Pacey, wake up."

"I can't," he fought to say, but it came out more as a moan than anything else.

His throat felt dry and hoarse. He had to get water.

"Can you talk, man?"

He began to recognize the voice beside him and barely opened his eyes a crack to confirm it.

"Dawson?" he slurred.

"They're going to hurt Joey. We have to do something."

"Joey?"

"Yes… tall, dark, cynical Joey… the brunette… remember her?" he replied sarcastically, moving away from Pacey. "Well I think they're going to kill her if we don't do something now!"

Immediately, he tried to sit up, but his head felt too woozy. The dark room was spinning and before he had a chance to contemplate it, he was flat on his back again.

"Are you going to help me?!" Dawson demanded. "I can't get out of here by myself!"

"I'm trying man!" he snapped, trying to focus his eyes.

Of all the times he had to lose his balance and feel as if he were recovering from the worst hangover from hell… it had to be when Joey was in trouble.

"Damn it!" he cursed, trying for a third time to sit up, but unsuccessful.

It was as if something heavy were holding him down. Not to mention how weak he felt. He could feel the clumps of dirt sticking to his back and t-shirt where the blood had gathered. His mind quickly drifted away from those thoughts for he knew he had to get to Joey. He had to get to her before they hurt her. Or worse…

He shuddered at that thought.

There was still so much he needed to say to her. So much he needed to clarify. They had just come to an understanding, maybe not a reconciliation, per say… but definitely an understanding.

"Where is she?" he mumbled, using all his strength to sit up against the wall behind him.

"I heard her scream from that direction," Dawson explained, pointing towards the gloomy hall, through the rusting iron gate.

"How long ago?" he urged, trying to calculate the time she had been in trouble.

"Fifteen minutes or so."

'Too long,' he thought. "And Jen?"

"I haven't heard anything."

Pacey quickly stood up, supporting most of his weight on the wall. "We have to get back there."

"That's what I've been trying to tell you!"

He looked around the clay walls and rusting gate for an escape. Overall, the small area seemed concealed really well. It was cool in there, so he figured they were underground.

"Have you found any openings that might help get us out of here?" he asked, still searching the room.

"If I had, do you think I'd still be in here?" Dawson replied cynically.

"Do you think you could cut back on the sarcasm a bit and maybe amp up the brain power, Dawson? Or would that interfere with the leading role you're trying so desperately to cast yourself in?"

"At least I've been trying to get us out of here… Unlike you, who passes out and only decides to come around once Joey's screams stop. YOU didn't have to listen to it!"

Pacey's heart stopped. "She's been screaming?"

"No Pacey," he mocked in a condescending tone. "That was just her best attempt at opera. YES! Joey was screaming!"

Without any recognition of his body's horrific protests, he walked over to the gate and shook it – more in frustration than anything else. It was firm. There was no way to break it down. Not that he thought there was… He just wanted to narrow down his options – which were quickly disappearing.

"Has anyone come to check on us, yet?"

Dawson shook his head, cradling his injured arm while he looked out in the direction of Joey's screams. If only he could see what was going on beyond that steel door. If only he could stick his head out a little further—

Suddenly, they heard the loud click at the steel gate and the rusty creak as it opened.

"Let go of me!" Joey yelled, fighting her captor. He had his thick arms around her waist, holding her close to his chest.

"I can walk by myself!" she fought, kicking her feet.

"Ehhh, but you're so irresistible when you're angry," he replied with a thick accent - almost in a low growl.

Pacey ignored the man's words, for his only concern was that Joey was safe. His heart had picked up when he had heard her voice.

"Jo?! Are you okay?" he yelled.

"Pacey?!" she yelled back, her voice a little higher in hope.

"Yeah, Joey! Did they hurt you?" Dawson chimed in, glaring at Pacey for taking his glory. "Because I swear, if they did I'll-"

"-You'll what, kid?!" her captor snickered at Dawson, suddenly appearing in front of their cell.

He was nearly twice Dawson's size and immediately the blonde fell back from his cold, dark stare.

"That's what I thought," he laughed, searching for his keys with one hand and holding Joey by the waist with his other arm. He quickly opened the steel door and threw Joey inside with little effort. She fell right into Pacey's grateful arms. Without a second glance back, the captor closed the gate and walked away.

"Joey, are you okay, Sweetheart?" he asked, focusing his attention to her bright red cheek, lightly brushing his thumb over the spot where she had obviously been slapped.

Tears filled her eyes and she collapsed into his good shoulder. Clearly she had been holding it in for some time now.

Pacey's strength seemed to be fading with her cries and he fell back slightly. He leaned up against the clay wall and refused to let her go.

"It's alright, Jo," he murmured encouragingly into her ear, letting one hand drift through her hair, as she let it all out. "You're safe now."

No matter how much pain he was in, he would never let those men touch her again. He was terrified of what they had done to her. He was afraid to ask, afraid of what he would do to them if he knew the truth. But he had to know.

"Jo," he began, hoarsely. His voice could not hide the pain he was in and she took notice.

"Pacey?" she asked, moving back, wiping her eyes.

It was then she got a good look at him. His bruised and swollen face; his swollen arm; not to mention the horrific red-brown spots on his shirt.

Her eyes widened as she realized just how injured Pacey was.

"My god, Pacey! You're hurt!"

Pacey was taken aback by her sudden concern and smiled - more to reassure her than anything else. "Nah… it's just a little scratch."

"Pacey, you need to sit down!" she demanded, helping him to sit against the cold, clay wall, redirecting her full attention to getting Pacey some help.

"Dawson! Why aren't you helping him?" she snapped as she examined the side of Pacey's face.

Dawson immediately took offence at her tone and cradled his injured arm for emphasis.

"We were trying to figure out a way to get to you!" he replied indignantly, shooting daggers at Pacey. "Besides, he's not the only one hurt, you know…"

She turned to glare at him, but closed her eyes instead after she saw his awful condition too. "I'm sorry, Dawson…"

Pacey turned his attention to her again. "Did they hurt you, Jo? What happened?"

She looked down and tears began to fill her eyes again. Pacey gently took her hand and waited patiently for her to speak.

"I'm fine… They tried to- to-" she paused, unable to finish. "But I wouldn't let them."

Anger flowed through Pacey in that moment. Someone was going to pay. Someone was going to die for making Joey have to defend herself like that.

"Where's Jen?" Dawson asked from the corner.

"I don't know," she choked out, looking down shamefully. "I tried to fight them, to let me stay with her, but they just kept dragging me on."

"It's okay, Jo. We'll find Jen one way or another."

She sniffled a bit and looked back at Pacey's face, still surprised to find him so beaten and bruised.

"We need to clean your wound, Pace…" she mumbled softly, moving to look at the back of his shoulder. "Let me look at it."

He shook his head and winced at the thought of anyone examining his throbbing shoulder, much-less cleaning it. It was just too painful.

"No."

"Pacey, it's really dirty. I need to clean it the best I can or I'm afraid you're going to get sick."

"Potter, at this point, I'd rather get sick," he replied seriously, getting a stern look from Joey.

"I think Pacey's right, Jo," Dawson chimed in. "I think you need to just leave it alone until a doctor can look at it."

"When!?" she demanded, turning on Dawson again. "In a month? In a year? When are we getting out of this place, Dawson? Because unless you know something I don't, we're gonna have to make do with what we have. We could be here for a really long time… And right now, that dirt doesn't look good on his raw wound like that. I need to try to clean it."

Pacey was suddenly more afraid of what would happen if he didn't let her look at it, than if he would just let it go.

"Alright, Jo… But it's not going to be pretty," he consented, begrudgingly, locking his jaw to prepare for the worst.

Joey smirked at him. "I thought you said it was 'just a scratch'."

"A scratch that hurts like hell," he mused, turning around for her.

"I'll be gentle," she coaxed, moving behind him.

She lightly lifted the dirty shirt off his back and inwardly groaned at what she saw. Fresh blood was slowly oozing out of his open wound. His t-shirt had collected most of the dirt, thankfully, leaving his injury fairly clean. That was a good sign at least.

"Pacey?"

"Yeah Jo?"

"It doesn't look too bad considering the injury, but we've definitely got to get you to a doctor. It looks like you've lost a lot of blood."

"So that's what the sticky red stuff is?" he teased.

She looked at him sternly before turning to Dawson.

"Take off your shirt," she instructed, pointing to what she wanted.

"What?" he asked, surprised by her order.

Pacey turned to look at her too. Why in the hell did she want to see Dawson without a shirt?

"Dawson, I need you to take off your shirt because I need to try and stop the bleeding as much as I can. Your shirt looks the cleanest."

Pacey turned back to his original position, slightly more content with her reasoning.

"No," he answered pointedly.

"Excuse me?"

Dawson shook his head, "I said 'no'."

She lifted an eyebrow and slowly got to her feet. "Your best friend was shot trying to save my life and you won't do a simple thing like lending me your shirt, to help him?"

"Joey, you don't understand… He-"

"No! I think I understand perfectly, Dawson!" she shouted back with anger in her eyes. "I've been walking around on egg shells trying not to hurt you with Pacey and this is what I get in return? He could be dying right now and you wouldn't lift a finger to help him!"

"Jo-" he tried to interrupt with wide eyes. "He's the reason why we're all stuck here!"

"Are you delusional enough to really believe that?" she spat, not giving him a chance to answer. "Well then you're not the boy I grew up with. The boy who was noble and would do anything to help out a friend in need. The boy that I had fallen in love with. But I was wrong. I just wish I could've seen it sooner."

"-But Joey…"

"Go to hell, Dawson," she growled, lifting her own t-shirt above her head, revealing a cream colored bra over bronze skin.

Pacey gasped at her boldness. First, for telling off Dawson, and secondly for blatantly taking off her shirt. He was unable to take his eyes off of her newly revealed flesh as Dawson glared at her in shock.

"Joey, what are you doing?" Pacey asked, stupidly.

"I'm going to try to stop the blood, Pace. Just stay still."

He gaped at her in disbelief. His heart began beating more profusely as his eyes traveled over her ever-curvaceous form. Since when did Joey Potter throw off her t-shirt as if it were on fire and look incredibly sexy doing so…?

He wasn't sure what had gotten into her, but he hoped that this new boldness was something that would stay. He could get used to this.

She began to work in front of him, ripping her t-shirt into smaller pieces. Her toned arms working vigorously with the fabric, trying to clean it, but his eyes couldn't seem to lift from her toned abdomen and perfect chest.

She was definitely having an effect on him - making his blood course more thoroughly through his veins. His head was starting to ache from all the blood flowing through his body and he knew he was going to see stars soon if she didn't stop moving in front of him like that.

Right before he tried to say something, she looked up and smiled at him – that innocent, crooked smile that was filled with nothing but concern for him. The smile that matched her big brown eyes that he could get lost in forever. Just then she got up on her knees and leaned over him to grab her sandals. Her chest was right in front of his face and he swallowed hard.

Was she trying to kill him? Was this her sick attempt at revenge from their fights earlier in the week?

"Uh, Joey?"

"Yeah?"

"You need to put another shirt on."

She frowned, "Why?"

"Because you sitting there like that, really isn't helping to stop my blood from flowing."

She looked at him with concerned eyes, before finally understanding his true meaning.

"Pacey, you're a pig," she teased, moving to sit behind him

"Joey, I'm a man," he replied, never taking his eyes off of her.

Dawson just sat in the corner, watching their display in disgust. He was numb. He couldn't believe she had turned on him. His soul-mate, Josephine Potter, had just chose Pacey Witter – an enemy no less – over a best friend. And what was worse, he had to watch her and Pacey's newest mating rituals unfold before his very eyes. It was sickening.

Pacey jumped slightly when the cloth met his wound.

"Does it hurt?" she asked timidly, trying not to harm him as she cleaned his raw gunshot wound.

He tilted to the side to look back at her with a cocky grin, "Nah… I can barely feel it."

She raised an eyebrow and applied more pressure to the wound – mainly to help stop the bleeding. Pacey groaned.

"You can barely feel it, huh?" she teased when he jumped away from her as she tried to do it again.

"Potter," he groaned when she finally made contact, making him jump. "Don't forget… payback's a bitch."

She rolled her eyes and grabbed a fresh cloth from the pile that she made with her t-shirt. "Come here, you big baby. I promise I'll be gentler."

Pacey hesitated but slowly began to relax as she continued to clean his wound. After nearly a half-hour, Joey had the bleeding stopped and he was leaning back against the cold clay, his good arm wrapped around her securely. He was still pale and extremely worried about Jen, but he had to allow himself a little time to recover so he could figure out how they were going to get out of this mess.

"Are you in a lot of pain?" she whispered softly, gently tracing the scratches on his bare chest with her fingertips.

"I'll live," he answered honestly, kissing her forehead.

"What are we going to do, Pace? How are we going to get out of here?"

He breathed deeply and closed his eyes. "I honestly don't know, Jo."

"I heard the guys mention something about a night patrol they had to go on tomorrow night."

"Tomorrow night?" he clarified.

"I think so," she answered with a sigh. "We have to figure out something while they're gone tomorrow, Pace. It could be our only chance to get out of here."

"But I'm sure they're not going to leave us here alone. We'll be watched."

"I know, but there will be less of them," she paused thoughtfully. "Less ammo."

Joey looked over at Dawson who was currently dozing over in the corner. He had been pouting, but apparently he had succumbed to sleep in the process.

"Should we wake up Dawson and tell him?" she asked after awhile.

Pacey tightened his grip on her waist and nuzzled a secretive kiss on her cheek. "Let him sleep."

She smiled weakly and appreciated his gentle caresses. Fear was making it impossible to completely relax and enjoy it. She wanted to believe they would survive this disaster, that she would see her sister and nephew again, but the odds weren't looking good. Both Pacey and Dawson were already beaten badly… they hadn't been fed… not to mention Jen who had been missing for a long time now- too long. The melancholy was becoming unbearable and that little glimmer of hope she once had was dissipating with her growing hunger and thirst.

"Is this it for us, Pace?" she asked with a lump in her throat.

He glanced down at her hand, trembling slightly against his chest. "What do you mean?"

"Are we going to die here, Pacey?"

"I won't let you die, Potter," he answered firmly, holding her closer.

"What about Jen? Do you think they're hurting her?"

"We'll find her, Jo. I promise."

She bit her bottom lip in an effort to stop the tears from coming. It was pointless.

"I'm scared, Pace."

He took a deep breath and kissed her forehead. "I'll figure out how to get us out of here, Jo. Don't worry."

"I love you," she whispered, burying her head against his chest - more as if she were speaking for the last time, than declaring her affection for him.

"I know, Jo," he replied with ease. "But this isn't it for us, Potter… I swear… You still have to get that prestigious Art Degree from Harvard and I… well, I… I can just…" he hesitated in mid-thought as Joey chimed in.

"You have to get your law enforcement degree so you'll be the next Sherriff of Capeside," she teased.

Pacey scowled, "I think Deputy Doug has already filled that position."

Joey shook her head, "If we survive this Pace, you'll be more qualified as the Sherriff of Capeside than your own father."

"But why do you see me in the law enforcement?" he asked, curiously. "I always saw myself in something more mysterious… brooding even."

"Nope, you'll become a Sherriff," she corrected.

Pacey raised an eyebrow and rubbed her shoulder. "I see…So if I'm the Sherriff of Capeside, then that would make you the Sherriff's wife," he mused. "And you know my mom's never cared for cooking on Taco Tuesday down at the station with Pop and Doug."

Joey cringed, "I refuse to cook for those animals."

"Ha!" Pacey laughed, "I think I've heard my mom say something similar to my pop at one point."

Joey smiled, "Okay, so if I have to prepare tacos every Tuesday night for a bunch of your lazy co-workers at the police station, then you have to dress up for the art festival at the museum in New York: suit and tie."

"No."

"Yes," Joey nodded, "See, we'll leave the kids with Bess so we can spend the entire weekend in New York, taking in the sites, and appreciating the great culture of our generation."

"Pshht," he teased. "I don't need a suit and tie to appreciate the culture in New York."

"I'm talking about the museum, Pace," she explained, "And you will dress up for it. I won't have my husband conversing with the elite society of New York in jeans and a red-print Hawaiian shirt."

"Hey those shirts are iconic."

"Only on you, Pacey," she agreed with a small grin.

He smiled and closed his eyes, briefly, enjoying this new image for their future. Was it possible? Could they end up together like that? Could this fantasy become a reality for them one day?

"Jo?"

"Yeah?"

"I want to make this happen for us."

She smiled and closed her eyes with him. "I do too, Pace. With you, I really want that."

He let his nose caress the side of her cheek, along her jaw, to the sensitive spot below her ear. She shivered involuntarily as he murmured, "We'll get out of here, okay? I'll buy you a house, we'll get a dog, and make this dream come true. I'm not sure how yet, but I'm going to do it."

She smiled, knowing he was being genuine. "I have no doubts that it will happen, Pace."

She allowed herself to enjoy the visions in her head. The life they could have one day before she opened her eyes. When she did, she felt the gloom creep back into her heart. It would never happen. They would die here… she knew that. And it wasn't the cynical part of her talking either. It was the realistic side.

She took in a ragged breath and felt Pacey's heart beat rhythmically against the side of her cheek. Her hand drifted up his chest to that same spot so she could feel it. It was beautiful.

If they were going to die, at least they were going to die together. But from the looks of Pacey, he wasn't doing very well and he would be the one to go first; he had lost too much blood. She prayed that wouldn't happen. She didn't want to contemplate living without him – even if it was just for a few more hours.

She felt a few more tears escape her eyes as she drifted into a sleep that was inevitable. She held him tight. She held him as if it was their last night together. And the way things were going in that moment, it just might be…

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