Disclaimer: I am in no way connected to Dawson's Creek and no copyright infringement is intended.

Notes: This is a D/J fic set after the final episode with the alternating POV's of Joey, Pacey, and Dawson

Rating: R for language and some sexual situations.

Body And Soul

Chapter Seven

Dawson

Normally on a Friday I would stay at work until about eight but I know that Joey's probably already back at home so I rushed out of the office the minute the clock struck five. It was pretty barren anyway. People started to sneak out one by one around four o'clock. It happens every Friday and every Friday I pretend not to notice. I know that she's upset about something, but she played it off like it was nothing when I asked her about it. She knew that I knew she was lying but I let it go for the time being when she served me breakfast. That woman makes one hell of a breakfast. I remember there was a time when she would burn macaroni and cheese.

I'm actually not even bothered by the traffic like I normally would be. I've been thinking about last night all day. I keep replaying the events like a movie reel; the way she held my hand, leaned in on me for strength, the way she impressed all of my friends with her beauty and intelligence. I remember how we had a bit too much to drink and just stumbled into my bed when we got home, sleeping the way used to, left to right. Our third time in a foreign bed if you count Joey's dorm room and my bed in LA as foreign. And before she went to sleep she kissed my cheek and said that she had a great time. It's actually a lot easier to write my Sammy and Colby scenes after I talk to Joey on the phone or after I read an e-mail from her. Having her here has magnified that tenfold. I wrote some great stuff today, happy stuff. I try to always balance out the good with the bad because that's how it happens in real life; some of the best moments are peppered with the most gut wrenching. A few examples from my own life are Joey and I saying I love you – but breaking up, and Joey and I finally sleeping together only to have that whole mess that followed.

Oh God, now I'm thinking about that night we spent together. I don't allow myself to very often because I know that it's a road I shouldn't travel down, but traffic has stopped, and I'm feeling pretty good. Is it pathetic that the best sex I ever had was about six years ago? Probably. Is it pathetic that I remember every second of it like it was yesterday? Probably. But I do remember every moment. The pivotal point when our hug turned from friendly to explorative to urgent. It was almost surreal after so many years of wondering what she would be like in bed, what it would be like to be inside her, how she would come, to actually have it happen was indescribable. I was torn between the urge to be careful with her; almost reverent like she was one of the china dolls that my mom always kept high on the shelf in the spare room. And then there was the urge to break her down, to make her scream my name as she came, causing the people next door to bang on the walls and tell us to shut the fuck up. In the end I did both and I'm glad that I did. There was so much I wanted to do to her and for her that had been building up for years. Apparently it had been the same for her too because she murmured things in my ear that I never thought I would hear come out of Joey Potter's mouth unless it was in one of my dreams or fantasies. And I'm already home. I should take a few minutes to just sit and calm down before I go inside.

Joey

I'm glad that he's home because I've been picking over the events of the day way too much. I know that Dawson still suspects that there's something wrong even though this morning I told him I was fine before distracting him with blueberry pancakes. Usually I reserve making those pancakes for the morning after'. After a man has had a taste of those blueberry pancakes usually they're mine forever. I've had a lot of practice making them seeing as how I used to reside in a bed and breakfast that has been voted best breakfast' four years in a row. The only problem is after a guy tastes my pancakes he's usually under the false impression that I can cook other things that aren't ramen noodles. The time I burned the mac and cheese while Dawson and I were watching Alex comes to mind.

"Hey," he says as he comes through the door.

"Hey," I smile, not wanting him to think that there's anything wrong.

"I borrowed these and I want to return them." I look at what he's given me. My Counting Crows CDs from high school. I honestly haven't thought about these in years. I had just assumed that they had somehow found the trash can over the years.

"I thought these were long gone."

"Quality wise, they are. I mean, I wouldn't recommend actually listening to them unless you're secretly a sadist or something." He laughs when he says it and I can't help but laugh with him. Of course now I'm curious as to what they actually sound like so I WILL listen to them later on. Maybe I am a sadist or something.

"What do you want to talk about?" I almost dread asking what he wants to talk about, remembering our deal to pass along the CDs whenever we needed to talk about something.

"I want you to talk." I was afraid he was going to say that. "I know something's bothering you."

Why am I always surprised when he can still read me after all these years? He could even tell when I lost my virginity. The next morning I had stood in front of the mirror to see if I looked any different, because honestly I didn't feel much different. I'm not sure exactly how I thought I would feel, like mountains had moved and the heavens had aligned or some girly shit like that. Yeah, I know I was expecting too much. I was expecting sex to suddenly heal all of the problems Pacey and I had instead of deepening the wound. What I never in a million years expected was Dawson actually being able to sense the change that I had been unable to see in myself, but when it happened I wasn't surprised.

That was the reason that we had broken up the first time. He knew me as well as it was humanly possible to know another person. He could read my face, my eyes, and my body. It was strange that there were really no more secrets between us. Scary would be a better word than strange, and terrifying would be even better. Dawson knew me better than my dad ever knew my mom and it terrified me to down to the marrow of my bones. We were only fifteen and already we had an emotional and spiritual connection that transcended that of most married couples. What scared me was the question of where could we go from there. My therapist and I talked about it and she brought me to the grudging conclusion that I put up a lot of barriers so I would never have to answer that question. I broke up with him and went out with Jack. With him I had the exact opposite situation. He didn't know me all. It was safe. I liked it. It gave me some power and control in the relationship. I like to have the power and control in the relationship. It's easier to have that if they like you a little more than you like them or if they don't know you very well. Of course I couldn't control the fact that he was gay. That was as big a blow to my self-esteem as Dawson having a girlfriend when he slept with me. And after Jack it was one thing after another with us. Some big, like my lashing out at him after my father went to prison and some silly and contrived like us not talking the summer between freshman and sophomore year in college. But I should pay attention to Dawson who's staring at me expectantly.

Dawson

I know that Joey hates it when I force a situation and try to get her talk. I have a feeling that it's something about Pacey and that's where her trepidation is coming from. As much as I would hate to give her advice about Pacey, I hate to see her sad. Truth be told I would do anything to make her happy, even if it's give her advice about Pacey. I'm her friend first. I think if I give Joey her CDs back it will help to smooth things over and ease her into a conversation.

"Hey," I say as I come through the door.

"Hey," she answers. She smiles as she says it but what she doesn't know is that I can read her face, her eyes, and her body. They betray her smile.

"I borrowed these and want to return them," I hold out the CDs.

"I thought these were long gone," she says with a slight look of amusement.

"Quality wise they are." It's true. Even though I listen to them some songs sound like an orchestra of untuned cats. "I mean I wouldn't recommend actually listening to them unless you're secretly a sadist or something." As we laugh about it I think that I must be a sadist to be here with Joey thinking about how wonderful she is and trying to get her to talk about her problems with her boyfriend. Yes. I am definitely some sort of sadist.

"What do you want to talk about?" I can almost sense the dread in her voice.

"I want you to talk." It's a bold move on my part. She could straight up tell me it's none of my business and she would be right. "I know something's bothering you."

I can see the conflict in her eyes. What is it exactly? Is she struggling between loyalty to her romantic relationship with Pacey and her platonic, yet emotionally intimate relationship with me?

Joey

"This is kind of a hard topic to broach." I finally say after struggling with my loyalty to my relationship with Pacey and the platonic, yet emotionally intimate relationship I have with Dawson. Pacey would flip out if he knew I was talking about our relationship with Dawson. Wasn't there just a question on that quiz like this?

"You know you can tell me anything." It's true I can tell Dawson anything and if I'm pulling some shit he'll usually call me on it. Now that Jen's not here anymore he's really the only one around, with the occasional nugget from Bess, who will call me on it and try to tell it like it is. Dawson was the only one I told about going to therapy. Pacey says with certain exceptions therapists are full of shit and are just out to rob people who need to get over themselves. When he said certain exceptions I think he meant Andie. When I told Dawson he said it was a good idea and probably long over due.

"I talked to Pacey this morning." I pause for a moment and gauge his reaction. He just nods. "And well we sort of got into this fight."

"About what?" he finally asks after a moment or so of silence.

"That's the thing. I'm not exactly sure. It was a bunch of things and nothing really." Suddenly the pattern on my skirt has become interesting. "He saw us at the premiere on television. He saw the interview and everything."

"Oh," is all he says.

"He says that it looks like there was more going on between us even though he doesn't really think so. So it's nothing really."

"Jo, that's crazy. There's nothing going on between us. We even said so to that reporter. Did he see that part?"

I can only nod. "I think he's jealous." I finally say. "But he has no reason to be."

"Joey," I can tell that Dawson has his thinking cap on and it's very endearing. I shouldn't be doing this to him, laying out my problems with Pacey like this. It's selfish. This can't be easy for him even if there are no romantic feelings left. "If Pacey has a problem with your friendship with me than the problem is inside of him, not with you." He's speaking very slowly as if he wants every word to come out just as intended. "It's not as if he was unaware of the situation between any of us. He knew the whole tumultuous history behind everything. Your amazing capacity for friendship is one of the best things about you. Pacey should appreciate that part of you as much as he cherishes any other aspect of your personality." Honestly I feel a bithearing Dawson use the words Pacey and cherish in the same sentence.

I know that he's right. Pacey did know the situation coming into our relationship again. He can't plead ignorance. Dawson and I were friends before anything else ever happened. On the other hand it can't be easy for Pacey to see that Dawson, someone who he has compared himself to his entire life, still has such a close relationship with his girlfriend. I think that Dawson has more to say but the phone interrupts us.

"Hello," he says. "Hey Audrey!" After he says that he mouths the words It's Audrey,' pointing at the phone. There's the span of a couple minutes where Audrey must just be gabbing away per her usual self. The last time that I saw her was Jen's funeral. How sad is that? She's the best girlfriend that I have and the last time I saw her was when the first real friend that I had who was also a girl died.

"No, actually I'm not. Uh huh. Well the set's on vacation that week so" There's a few more minutes of uh huhing' on Dawson's part. "You know I can't tell you that. You have to watch the show to find out."

"Because," Dawson sighs. "Fine. The next female character on the show I'll name after you." I can't help but smile as Dawson tries to get a word in edgewise. I can attest to the fact that it's a lot easier to talk to Audrey in person than it is to talk to her on the phone.

"Joey's here." Dawson finally blurts into the phone. I can't help but smile as Dawson holds the receiver away from his ear. Audrey must be shrieking into the phone. Then he hands me the receiver.

"Hey, Audrey."

"Bunny!" she gushes. "Why on earth didn't you tell me that you're here in LA?"

"I thought you were in Europe."

"That was a whole three days ago."

"Well than there you go," I answer.

"Did Dawson tell you that since the set is shut down next week were totally going to have a little sweeps party for The Creek at my house on Wednesday. We just decided that. I can't believe that he won't tell me who fucks who. Did he tell you? Did it really happen like on the commercials? I'm pretty sure it's not Sammy and Colby, I was there for that." I really don't feel like telling Audrey all about Abby Morgan and that whole mystery project she was working on. I have a feeling that is what Dawson's inspiration for the episode is based on.

"No, he didn't tell me. And you don't just have little parties." The time we almost got evicted from our apartment senior year when Audrey decided to have a little' party instead of going away for Spring Break is fresh in mind.

"And I'm totally psyched to be able to spend Thanksgiving with you guys. It's going to beat the hell out of whatever my parents had planned."

"So you can come?"

"Yeah," Audrey finally takes a breath and I must admit that I've missed these give and take conversations that we have. "I'll be playing at some Boston coffee houses the week after so I'll be headed that way anyhow. I already checked with Dawson though and we have different flights."

"Oh, that's too bad." Actually it's not. Flying with Audrey makes me edgy. She gets nervous, then loud, then fidgety.

"I'm sorry but I have to go now." Audrey's apologizing. "I didn't know you'd be in town so I already made plans for tonight. I'll see you before my party though. Promise. Love ya hon. Bye."

"Bye Audrey." I can't help but be somewhat amused by her antics. Audrey is just as much fun as she was in college. That whole girl with guitar thing she developed really helped mature her though. Last time I talked to her she was working on her own record whenever she could. Audrey is able to take that same sometimes brutal honesty and turn it inward with amazing musical results.

"She's crazy but she's one of those people I can't imagine not knowing," Dawson says as I hand him his phone back.

"I know what you mean," I agree. "Can we go get something to eat and finish our talk later?" I must admit that I'm starving and would like to change the subject to something a bit lighter if that's possible.

"What, you're not making dinner?" Dawson says it with such a goofy smile that I can't help but smile along with him.

"Do I need to remind you of the time I almost burned my house down trying to make you mac and cheese?"

"But breakfast was great."

"Breakfast is breakfast." Damn I probably shouldn't have said that with my flirtatious smile but I did. I couldn't help it. It was that goofy smile. Goofy but endearing.

"Indeed it is." Now he's flirting back.

"Let's go." As I grab his hand to drag him out of the family room that Dawson calls the media' room a picture of Jen catches my eye. I think it was taken that summer Pacey and I went to the Keys. She's kneeling behind a sandcastle in her bathing suite with Jack and Andie.

As I look at her it brings back another memory. When the six weeks after her c-section had passed I promised to meet her at the gym every Saturday until she exercised her way back into her favorite pair of jeans. It wasn't like she had gained that much weight to begin with, unlike Bessie who had almost doubled in size before Alexander was born. As we were changing before our workout I noticed the half-smile, hot pink scar that dipped across her lower abdomen. I couldn't help but stare at it. It was hard to believe that they had actually taken a baby out of there. Jen's baby.

"It's okay," Jen said as she traced across its red heat with the tip of her index finger. "You can look at it." So I did. Somehow that scar just made Jen's motherhood so real. I had been there after Amy was born and visited Jen and the baby at her apartment a few times but it was still hard for me to believe that she was a mother. But now it was like she was branded or something.

"Actually," Jen continued. "It's the most favorite part of my body. Someday I'll be an eighty-six year old woman in a nursing home and the poor son of a bitch that has to give me a bath will know that I'm somebody's mother. Someday Amy will leave me but I'll always have an imprint of her on my body." The strength and truth of those words impacted me so profoundly that I didn't even know what to say. It was obvious that Jen was living on a whole separate plane than I was. My world was deadlines and petty arguments with Chris and drinking one more glass of red wine than I probably should before going bed. Jen's life had purpose and direction. She was a teen counselor and volunteer and at the same time was contributing to the world by molding another little life. It was almost incomprehensible that she was the girl who I once thought had her whole future written on her face; a liberal arts college, a pedigree husband, three children, and a refurbished farmhouse in Connecticut. I couldn't have been more wrong if I had deliberately tried.

"What's your other favorite part?" That was all I could say. I had just realized how trite my life actually was and all I could ask was what her other favorite body part was.

"Huh?" she asked.

"You said that was your most favorite, what's your other favorite?"

"My breasts." I swear she gave me an almost flirtatious smile.

"You used to hate your breasts."

"I know, but now that I have Amy they serve a whole other purpose. It's like, oh so that's what they're there for. Plus they got bigger." She laughed when she said that and continued getting dressed.

I cried that night when I got home and looked at myself in the mirror before I went to bed. I traced an invisible line across my own abdomen trying to imagine what it would be like to have another life inside of me. I held my breasts and tried to imagine them heavy with milk. I tried to imagine there was a baby asleep in the next room. And I cried. It's not like I wanted to have a baby. I just wanted something.

"Joey," Dawson is actually gently shaking my arm, trying to get my attention. I wonder how long he's been doing that. I see him follow my gaze to the picture of Jen.

"Wait just a minute." I rush over to my laptop because I have to get this all down before I forget. I flip it open and feel Dawson looking over my shoulder as I open the document titled, Things I Wish I Knew About My Mother'.

I know that he read my whole entry as I wrote it but I feel the need to explain what I'm doing to Dawson. I want him to fully understand. "I'm writing down all of my memories of Jen for Amy. Not just my memories though. I started with Grams first for obvious reasons and I just had lunch with her dad two weeks ago. He told me a great story about how he took her out for ice cream that summer she stayed in the Hamptons with him. Slowly I'll get everybody's memories and then I'll give them to Amy along with a sketchbook I've been working on. It started when I was thinking that there was so much about my own mother that I wanted to know but the people who knew those things had either passed away themselves or were old friends who had scattered across the country."

"I think it's a great idea, Jo." I know he's telling the truth by his sad smile. Perhaps he's thinking of some Jen stories of his own. "You know she'll have to be a teenager when she gets my memories because some of them aren't exactly child friendly."

"I know. I'm thinking fourteenish is a good age."

"What's that folder?" I know that he's referring to the one called Life Without Jen'.

"It's a working title," I explain. "For my novel."

"You're writing a novel." I can actually sense the pride in his voice and I'm glad that he's proud of me. "What's it about exactly?"

"Well it's sort of complicated," I begin. "It starts out as four friends, two boys and two girls who are sort of on the fringes of Junior High society, start their summer before high school. One of the boys thinks that his mother is having an affair so they decide to find out who she's having an affair with. They sort of make it their mission for the summer. Meanwhile the other boy is being abused at home and one of the girls finds out that her mother has been hiding the fact that she is dying. And the other girl, the Jen character I guess, is completely ignored at home. Anyway on the steps of the high school on their first day they make a pact to meet back there ten years later. As school starts the Jen character drifts into a bad crowd and ends up dying in an alcohol related accident. The other three then drift apart after going through some emotional stuff blaming each other for her death. Ten years later they all come back to the same spot and the reader can tell how badly the character's lives have turned out because of that one event. Then two of the characters reveal that they always had a crush on the other. The challenge is will they be able to overcome Jen's death and be together or will all of the pain and the event's of the past make them to afraid to commit to one another."

"How does it end?" Dawson looks genuinely interested.

"You'll have to read it, I guess."

"Email it to me." I didn't expect him to actually want to read it. Now I'm nervous. This is the only full length novel I've ever written. What if he hates it?

"I don't know. It's done but not really revised or anything. Maybe after it's polished up."

"Quit stalling Joey. Do you think I've never seen an unpolished piece of writing before?"

"Fine I'll mail it to you. Let's go eat now."

"No," he folds his arms across his chest as he says this. He has the look of a determined child who has just decided to only eat things that are red. Alex did that once.

"No?" I repeat it as more of a question.

"Mail it to me now."

"You have no patience," I tease as I download the story to an attachment to mail him. "You know that it will probably take you forever to download. It's super long."

"War And Peace long?" he asks.

I shake my head. "More like Gone With The Wind long."

"Never read it," he answers. "But speaking of books that make great movies yours sounds pretty cinematic."

"Dawson," I groan. "You have a one track mind. You haven't even read it yet."

"I don't have to." When he smiles at me I can't help but smile back. "That little summary you gave of the story sounds just like a pitch meeting. If I had heard that pitch I would have made your movie."

There's no use arguing with him though I would never have my book made into a movie. "Fine. If this unedited, unpublished novel is ever turned into a movie you can direct it, alright?"

I like the triumphant smile that he gives. "That's all I ask for."

"Speaking of unmade movies," I turn the tables on him. "What's the word with the Speilberg project?"

"You know how slow projects can move in this town. I've decided to make a movie based on one of Mr. Brooks' unpublished plays. Cheap, since I own the rights. It's going to have great Hepburn-Tracey dialogue with a late forties feel to it but the setting and characters will be modern day. The masses wont like it but it will be a movie for people who like movies."

"That sounds sweet." I notice that the message has finally been sent. "There," I gesture to the screen. "Can we finally go now?"

"Sure," Dawson replies. "What are you in the mood for?"

To be continued.