Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

I wouldn't know what to do with another chance

If you gave it to me

I couldn't take the embrace of a real romance

It'd race right through me

I'm much better of the way things are

Much, much better of, better by far, by far

I wouldn't know what to say to a gentle voice

It'd roll right past me

And if you chalk it up you'll see I don't really have a choice

So don't even ask me

I'm much better off, the way things are

Much, much better off, better by far

So keep on calling me names, keep on, keep on

And I'll keep kicking the crap till it's gone

If you keep on killing, you could get me to settle

And as soon as I settle, I bet I'll be

Able to move on

How can I fight, when we're on the same side?

How can I fight beside you?

So keep on calling me names, keep on, keep on

And I'll keep kicking the crap till it's gone

If you keep on killing, you could get me to settle

And as soon as I settle, I bet I'll be

Able to move on

-"The Way Things Are" by Fiona Apple

Troy walked into the lobby, carrying a paper bag from Burger King. He pushed open one of the swinging doors of the main gallery and the sight of Joey standing on a stepladder greeted him along with the blasting of "Rapunzel" by Dave Matthews. He recognized the song from the "Before These Crowded Streets" album and took it as a good sign. For the past six weeks, Joey's preferred choice of music was Nirvana, Fiona Apple, No Doubt, Third Eye Blind, Sarah McLachlan and a few tracks from Limp Bizkit and Korn. But her favorite, the one she blasted over the gallery's sound system more than the others was the I-hate-you-and-I-don't-need-you-so-fuck-you-asshole Alanis Morisette classic, "You Oughta Know." He had been relieved when she began playing "Get Gone" and "The Way Things Are" by Fiona Apple endlessly, her next two favorites.

"This is straight right?" Joey asked without turning around, looking adorable clad in a pair of baggy khakis and an olive green tank top, her hair in a ponytail.

"You know it is." Troy said, taking a glance at the painting. 'Rage. Blinding Goddamn Rage', she called it. Six weeks ago she turned up at work, white-faced and tense. "I'm taking a couple of weeks off, Troy." She informed him dazedly.

He didn't ask why. "What about the exhibition?" He asked.

"Go on and get things moving," Joey had told him, her voice distant. "I'll be back before you really need me."

And so he did. She'd returned two weeks later, as promised, unwilling to talk about anything that didn't relate to work, carrying three explosive canvases filled with vibrant angry bold colors and images. One she'd left untitled, telling Troy she couldn't come up with a title for it.

"What did you feel when you were painting?" He had asked, when she indifferently asked him for a suggestion.

Her hazel eyes clouded over and she tonelessly, "Rage. Blinding goddamn rage, Troy."

And so it was named.

Troy looked around. The opening was that night, and everything was set. Joey was nervous as hell. She kept getting dizzy and nauseous and Troy advised her to calm down before she made herself sick.

"That's mine?" Joey asked, gesturing to the brown paper bag. Troy nodded, handed it over and watched as Joey dug into the bag and attacked her cherry slushie.

"You do know that it's November, and no one else in their right mind is walking around in a tank top and drinking slushies?"

"It's hot in here." She informed him, studying another canvas.

"That's because you keep messing with the thermostat. You always have it up too hot or too cold," he complained, perching on the stepladder. "Just leave it alone."

"Whining doesn't suit you, Troy." Joey absently said, reaching forward and moving a corner of the canvas up a fraction of an inch. It already looked straight to Troy, but Joey's expert eagle eye was much better than his, although his was definitely something to write home about.

"Still nervous about tonight?" Troy asked.

Joey laughed lightly as she walked over to the opposite wall. "Nervous isn't the word." She said wryly, lowering herself to the floor and digging into the bag again.

"Bringing the girls?" inquired Troy pleasantly. He noticed a faint look pass over Joey's face. It was so fleeting that Troy could've imagined it.

"No," Joey replied. "They have to go to school tomorrow. They'd be bored anyway."
"So you hired a sitter?" Troy asked casually, studying her. She was concentrating much too hard on the hamburger she was unwrapping.

"Sort of." She muttered.

"Who?" He persisted.

She was quiet for a moment, chewing and swallowing and Troy thought she wasn't going to answer. She did though, with a curt, "They're with their father."

Troy lit up. Maybe things were going to work out with Joey and Pacey after all. He knew that things were really bad between them, because although Joey still laughed and talked and joked like always, some part of her seemed to be missing. And sometimes, something about someone or some object or some song would hit Joey, and a look of such bleak pain and hurt anger would flash across her face. The look broke Troy's heart, so the fact that Joey had even communicated with Pacey was a good sign.

"With Pacey, huh?" Troy asked. Joey nodded tersely, chewing on another big bite of the Burger King burger made her way, which was with extra everything.

"That's nice." Troy said conversationally, not letting the subject drop. Knowing she was growing annoyed, he set the trap, "I didn't know you were speaking to him."

Joey walked into it obliviously. "I haven't. Bessie took them to the house two weeks ago."

Joey inadvertently let him in on the knowledge she hadn't cared for him to know before, which was that she was staying with her sister, and she hadn't spoken to Pacey for at least two weeks. Given that, it was pretty safe to assume that six weeks ago, something must've gone horribly, horribly wrong between Joey and Pacey; especially since she'd been planning on talking to him that night, something he'd completely forgotten about until then.

"You miss them, huh?" Troy asked, going back to the subject of the girls before Joey could catch herself and realize what she'd done.

"You have no idea." She answered shortly before changing the subject altogether. "So, what time are you going home to change for tonight?"

"Six. Like I always do." He looked at her quizzically. "What, you think just because it's your opening I'll take longer to get dressed? You think that just because it's your exhibition I would be nervous as hell? Like certain a new artist I know with long dark hair and a name that begins with J who likes have Slurpees in November?" He teased.

Joey gave him a wry look. "Quit making fun of me." Joey said, pouting a little, her lips a juicy red from the crushed ice and cherry syrup. "And not only do I have every right to be nervous, this isn't a Slurpee, it's a slushie. Seven-Eleven sells Slurpees," Troy was primly informed.

Troy rolled his eyes and brought the subject matter back to the exhibition. "You've been to hundreds of these and you've always been calm and cool." He pointed out.

"Yes, but this is mine," Joey emphasized. "What if no one wants to buy? What is everyone leaves? What if—oh my God, what if no one shows up, Troy?"

"Everyone is going to be here," Troy said, watching a shade of green color Joey's face. "And everyone is going to want everything. And we both will make some serious money tonight."

"I'm getting nauseous." Joey breathed.

Troy glared at her. "That's because you just wolfed down a double Whopper with heavy everything, a large fries and half of that damn Slurpee or slushie or whatever-the-hell in five minutes," his dark brown eyes bore into hers. "Relax, Joey. Relax."

"I will. I will," she said, fighting down another bout of nausea and setting down her cup. "I have to go to the bathroom."

When she came back, Troy was studying a canvas. "You didn't vomit, did you?"

Joey glared at him. "No, I didn't vomit."

"Then that's like the tenth time you've gone to the bathroom, Joey. You seriously need to loosen up, sweetheart." Troy said firmly.

Looking around at the walls to make sure everything was straight, Joey picked up her cup and slowly sipped her cherry slushie to avoid brain-freeze. The exhibition was going to go great. A little of the tension left her body and the nausea subsided. Leaning her head back against the wall, Joey tried to relax.

Pacey rummaged through the cabinet until he found the bottle. He brought it over to Casey and Aliya and opened it.

"Who do you guys want?" He asked, unscrewing the top.

"I want Pebbles." Casey said.

"I want Bahnee. Daddy, I want Bahnee." Aliya told him.

Pacey found a Pebbles- and a Barney-shaped Flintstones multivitamin and handed them to his daughters. Aliya popped it into her mouth and began chewing, and Casey began playing with hers. Pacey shook his head as he went to put the bottle back.

"Hello, Pebbles," she said to the vitamin. "My name is Casey. You're gonna be going into my mouth in a second, and I'm gonna chew you up. Okay? No—no, don't start. I'm sorry. It's too late. You're a goner, Pebbles. Please stop crying. No, I have to eat you. I have to. You make my bones grow. No, just—"

"Casey, please," Pacey said, turning away from the cabinet and looking at her. "You're scaring me, baby."

Casey grinned at her father and shoved the vitamin into her mouth. She chewed, swallowed, and opened up for Pacey to inspect. "See? All gone."

"Good." He said, glancing at her and clearing up their bowls of cereal. "Are you two ready for school?"

"I don' wanna go." Aliya said while Casey went over to the mirror in the hall to check her reflection for the thousandth time that morning. She was wearing one of the outfits that Bessie had bought her for her fifth birthday the week before, dark blue jeans and a white baseball shirt with a dark blue collar and sleeves and a silver crescent moon on the front.

"Why not?" Pacey asked his youngest child.

"I wanna stay home with you, Daddy," Aliya told him. "School is stupid. And there's this stupid boy named Ricky who keeps teasing me."

"Hey, school is not stupid." Pacey said. "Just tell your teacher the boy is bothering you and she'll take care of it. Okay? I have to go to work today."

Aliya nodded, still looking a little upset that she couldn't stay home with the father she adored. Casey turned away from the mirror, where she'd been making faces at her reflection.

"I know who Ricky is in your class, 'Liya. I'll punch him in the face an' he won't never bother you again." Casey reassured her sister, striking an invisible Ricky with a rather quick right hook.

"No you will not punch Ricky in the face," Pacey said firmly. "Fighting doesn't solve things. No more fighting for you. You get in too many fights." And she did. After the episode with the little girl in her class, there were three more fights in the past six weeks. Casey always said that people were bothering her.

"You punched Uncle Dawson." Casey said defensively.

"No I didn't," Pacey lied incredulously. "Who told you that?"

"I was listenin' to Mommy and Aunt Bessie when she came back from the motel she was at." She said smugly, and before Pacey could comment, she frowned and touched her hair. "I thought you were gonna do my ponytail over."

Pacey stood there, staring at his daughter. She was becoming quite the little smart ass. He didn't know how she was when Joey had her, but ever since Bessie brought her over she'd been throwing these cocky, smart ass little comments around.

"Daddy, can you fix it, please?" She asked, her big sparkling eyes earnest. Her ponytail was sloppy and off-center. He beckoned her over and fixed it the best he could.

"It's still sucky, Daddy." Casey complained.

"Watch your mouth. And if you don't like it, do it yourself. You're the one that was tired of leaving your hair loose," he said, exasperated. "Let's go."

Wordlessly, Casey pulled out the elastic band in her hair and shook her hair out. She handed her father the comb from the counter. He parted it in the middle and combed it, the only style he could do right. "Better?" He asked, tossing the comb back on the counter.

"Thank you." She said, hugging him briefly around his leg.

As usual, his irritation with Casey melted away. "You're welcome." He said tenderly, before turning to Aliya. "If this boy Ricky bothers you again, tell your teacher. If he keeps on doing it, you tell me, and I'll take care of it, okay, baby girl?"

Aliya nodded, reassured.

"Are we ready for some schoolin' now?" He asked. His girls nodded, and he nodded back. "Let's go."

Pacey packed up the girls and left. At work, his boss' sexual advances had cooled to light flirtations. Although Pacey always tried to keep his home life private, it had gotten around the office that he was getting divorced. His boss was divorced herself, and Pacey was surprised to see his tough-as-nails boss had compassion.

After collecting his daughters from the after-school program, Pacey headed home, his perpetual anger and depression never subsiding. He always made sure the girls didn't notice he was upset, but he could never convince himself. After a while, he just stopped trying to lie to himself. Joey and Dawson belonged together. They always had, and obviously, they'd figured that out. Pacey should've known. His life was going too perfectly for it to last. He should've realized when L.J. died that whomever controlled the ways of the world had found out what a big mistake they made in making Pacey Witter happy. So they took away his son and they took away his wife, and if anything happened to his girls . . . he couldn't bear thinking about.

As if they sensed he was thinking about them, Casey and Aliya came into the kitchen, where Pacey was sitting at the island counter, paying bills. "Can we make some cookies?" Casey asked, resting a small hand on his knee.

"Can we please?" Aliya added, trying to climb on to the stool next to him. The stool began to rock on its legs and before she could fall and bring it with her, Pacey wrapped his arm around her middle and hoisted her into his lap.

"You want some cookies, huh?" Pacey inquired, trying to think if they had any cookie dough.

"Uh huh." Casey chirped, punching his thigh, restlessly dancing around.

Pacey focused his gaze on her and raised his eyebrow at her. "Yo, you wanna fight, shorty?" He questioned mildly. She grinned and began hitting him again.

"Yes! Beat me up, Daddy! Beat me up!" Casey exclaimed.

Pacey pretended to glare and Casey giggled. "You asked for it." He growled, setting Aliya on the floor and jumping up. Casey and Aliya shrieked with laughter and raced into the living room, throwing themselves on to the couch. He yanked Casey up, threw her high in the air and tossed her back on to the couch. She landed in a cushion of pillows, laughing hysterically, and immediately got up for more. Pacey took Aliya's arms, swung her around in a few circles in the air, and gently deposited her on the couch. Casey was hitting and tugging on his leg and he pretended to fall heavily to the floor.

"Hey!" He protested. "You knocked me down."

"Good!" Casey exclaimed in delight. "Come on Aliya. Let's beat up Daddy!"

The rolled around on the floor and wrestled until Aliya got the hiccups. Casey repeated her request for cookies, and after a foray in to the freezer that resulted in no cookie dough; they went to the store.

Once they got there, Casey and Aliya eagerly inspected the rows of candy at the counter, while Pacey headed to the frozen foods aisle. As he got closer to the cookie dough, he was assaulted with memories of L.J. After a quick look at the candy, he would race to the frozen foods aisle, look at either him or Joey with pleading gray eyes, and ask if they could make cookies. Pacey would always say yes, ruffle L.J.'s dirty blond hair, and grab one of the tubes of dough.

A bittersweet tenderness washed through him as Pacey picked up a tube of chocolate chip and stared reminiscently at it. Sighing, he turned to go to the counter, immediately slamming into someone. "Hey, I'm . . ." The apology died on Pacey's lips when the woman's eyes met his.

"Pacey." She breathed, as shocked to see him as he her.

Slowly, a smile broke across his features as he pulled her into a hug, unaware of her slight trembling. "Where've you been, missy? I called you a bunch of times but you seem to have forgotten my number." He pretended to glare into her turquoise eyes.

Melanie shrugged, trying not to let Pacey see the burst of love and nervousness that flooded through her when she realized who he was. When she'd come home from work earlier, Tara was getting ready to go to Pacey's wife's exhibition with her current girlfriend, who was a journalist. They asked her along, but she declined, not wanted to see Joey and Pacey together. Deciding to host a pity party, she went to the deli for bagels and cream cheese and ice cream. Pacey had brought her to that particular deli a few times, telling her that they baked the best goddamn bagels in the neighborhood. They'd split one, and Melanie readily agreed with him. They were delicious. They'd grinned at each other and gone for a walk. Thinking about that day weeks ago, Melanie hadn't even seen the very person she'd been thinking about as she walked down the aisle.

"I've been working." She told him, trying not to look him in the eye.

"You're a workin' girl," Pacey noted, grinning at her. He truly missed her. He had friends, but after L.J. died, he'd closed off, and hadn't spoken to any of them in months. He'd estranged Joey, and had no one but Melanie to talk to. And after she suddenly stopped calling or returning his calls, and after the horrible experience at the hotel, and after his murderous fury ebbed into a steady hum of anger, he'd been dying to talk to someone. The only other options were Andie, Doug, and Gretchen. But Andie was eight months pregnant, Doug was taking night college classes, and Pacey didn't want to bother them. Gretchen was backpacking in Europe with her Eurotrash boyfriend, so she was out of the question.

"Gotta make that money." Melanie said, shrugging again, focusing anywhere but Pacey's eyes.

Pacey studied her. She looked as if she'd lost weight. Her tan had faded, there were faint dark smudges under her turquoise eyes, which lost their sparkle and laughter and were replaced with a dull melancholy, giving her an overall look of sickliness.

"You work too hard, girl," he admonished, shaking the cookie dough at her for emphasis. "I hope you're here for some food. You need some meat on those skinny bones."

Melanie glared at his forehead. "Who's skinny?" she retorted. "And, by the way, I'm getting some of those mouth-watering bagels."

"Mouth-watering bagels, huh?" Pacey mused. "Strange."

"But accurate." She countered.

Pacey nodded. "Y'know, that somehow does sounds right when applied to these particular bagels," he paused and smiled a little. "They're not in the frozen foods section, though."

She glared some more and nodded. "I know that. I'm getting frozen orange juice." She reached around him and grabbed two cans.

"You're not gonna launch a full-scale attack on my eyebrows with those things, are ya?" He asked, staring warily at the can.

Melanie blinked and stared at him blankly. "Huh?" She asked.

"That's better," he smiled again, locking her eyes with his. "You were glaring at my eyebrows. If they did anything to offend you, believe me, it was unintentional."

Melanie finally laughed, relaxing. Pacey had obviously forgotten about their last conversation.

"Daddy, what's taking so long?" A little girl's voice complained in irritation behind her. Melanie turned and saw Pacey's two adorable little girls with candy in their hands.

"Can I get dis?" The youngest asked, shoving a lollipop at Pacey. "Can you buy dis for me please?"

"Sure, kid," Pacey said, gazing at her tenderly. "Come on."

As the foursome made their way to the front, Pacey gave introductions. Aliya smiled shyly, but Casey, who was more outspoken, said a jaunty, "Hi!" and then asked if she wanted to come to her house and bake cookies with them.

"Yeah, come over," Pacey said with a grin, before Melanie could decline Casey's invitation. "It'll be fun. I can finally beat you in Monopoly."

Melanie hesitated, and as Pacey looked at her, waiting for her answer, he suddenly remembered what happened the morning he'd found Joey in bed with Dawson. Uneasily, Pacey remembered what Melanie told him.

"I'm utterly and stupidly in love with you, Pacey."

He shifted his gaze away from her and wondered how he could have forgotten such a thing. There was no way he could invite her into his house, knowing that she was in love with him, knowing that he could be encouraging her. But how could he revoke his invitation? 'Hey, I forgot that you're in love with me so it's not such a good idea if you come to my house, okay? Sorry about that.' Pacey winced. That would sound cruel and conceited. He didn't know if Melanie was still in love with him. And anyway, he kind of wanted her to come over. He could really use someone to talk to.

Melanie sighed and smiled at the trio of Witters. "Okay."