Mr. Wonderful

Part 6

by Jade

Disclaimer: The pretty cool Kevin Williamson is responsible for the creation of Dawson's Creek. And with the cooperation of Columbia-Tristar, Warner Bros and Sony Pictures, has managed to bring it to our television screens.

Author's Note: I have never forgotten the well-written and simply beautiful dialogue in Mr. Wonderful ever since I first watched it. Credit goes to Amy Schor and Vicki Polon for their insightful writing on which I have based much of what Rachel says in this one. Also, I would like to dedicate this one to Kilby and Laura. Thanks for everything!

"Damn it!"

He cursed for the hundredth time that day and finally caved in to his frustration. He watched as the folder he had thrown against the wall from across the room slid to the floor like a lifeless doll, its contents strewn all over the linoleum.

He rested his head on the keyboard of his computer and raised it again, several minutes later, to stare into a screen that read an endless stream of various letters of the alphabet, which made absolutely no sense. It was pointless. He simply could not concentrate. His manager had given him the day off, after witnessing an outburst between him and a custodian, over a vase of withering flowers on his desk that she had thrown away.

"Witter, I want to see you in my office now!"

When they were behind closed doors, Brian Shutt softened his tone. "What the hell has been bugging you? You've been turning up for work in a bad mood and snapping at everyone in sight! And now the cleaning lady?"

"A friend gave me those flowers."

Brian Shutt took a close look at his most valued employee in the company. Pacey had two days' worth of stubble on his chin and looked like he hadn't had a good night's sleep in a week. A woman, the former deduced in his mind, the same woman for whom he gave up the promotion.

"I don't want to see you in here for the next two days. Go shave and get some sleep."

He had gone home, only to come face-to-face with the silence that he had come to hate so much in the past week since Joey left. Right after the wedding, he had learned from Dawson that she had left for the airport, ready to take the next flight out to New York. He had been torn between leaving Rachel there and going after Joey in the airport; in the end, his cowardice won and he let the latter go.

When he got back three days later, he was faced with the same silence that greeted him now, only he found a note addressed to him, lying beside a bunch of keys, on the coffee table.

Pacey,

I've left the keys to the apartment and the car on the table. There is no need to worry. I've found somewhere to stay for the time being while I look for a place of my own.

There is no other way to say it. I am sorry it had to end like this.

Take care of yourself and I wish you and Rachel all the best.

Goodbye.

Joey

Pacey got up from his chair and walked across the room to pick up the papers on the floor. Putting them aside on his bed, he got up and found himself making his way into the next room. He was greeted by an emptiness that felt depressing and suffocating. He looked around him. Joey's bed and the rest of her furniture remained but everything else was gone. The dresser was devoid of her bottles of perfume and accessories. Her computer was missing from its usual position on her desk. Her wardrobe was empty; he had opened it several times, hoping that his eyes were playing tricks on him and that she would have to come back because she had forgotten something.

The telephone rang and he stumbled across the living room, in his hurry, to pick it up. "Hello?" he answered, hoping it was her.

"It's me."

The disappointment was evident in his voice. "Hi, Rachel."

There was a pause before her overly cheerful voice replied. "I think I found us the perfect place. I'll come pick you up in 15 minutes." Then she hung up, giving him no chance to protest.

Putting the phone down slowly, he turned his head to look at the sofa they had ordered, still wrapped in the plastic it came with. It felt like he had been staring at it for a long time before he picked up the telephone again and said tiredly into it when someone answered.

"I'll like to return a sofa."

"The view here is fabulous and the apartment's conveniently located, right in......"

Pacey was miles away. He barely heard a word as the overzealous estate agent rambled on. He silently followed Rachel as she nodded to every comment the agent made.

"So?" the latter asked.

So?" Rachel, in turn, looked to Pacey for his opinion.

"Hmmm?"

"Do you like it?" she asked.

He was shaken out of his distraction and finally paid some attention to what they were saying. He could see that Rachel loved the place. "We'll take it," he said.

The agent lit up like a Christmas tree. "Perfect."

Pacey leaned over to give Rachel a hug, unaware that she was attuned to his every mood. What he didn't see in her eyes was hurt and a feeble attempt to deny that there was obviously a problem between them.

"Look, it's really important that I find her. Doesn't anyone in the office have a clue as to where she is?" Pacey was almost ready to pull the hair out of his scalp as he shifted the receiver from one ear to the other, whilst rummaging through the stack of papers that had accumulated on his work desk. I'm coming, he mouthed as a colleague beckoned at him and signaled that the meeting was about to commence.

"I'm sorry, Pacey. She didn't leave a number. I don't think she wants to be found while on vacation."

"Stacy, if she calls just tell her I need to talk to her. Please."

"All right."

"Thanks," he said, slamming the telephone into its cradle and then continued to dig through the ever growing mess on his desk. Great! Just like my life, he thought.

The minute Stacy Jennings ended her conversation with Pacey, she dialed home. "Pick up. Pick up, " she mumbled.

"Hello?"

"Joey, you've got to talk to him."

"Stace-"

"Look, I know you don't want to see him and all, but just talk to the poor guy, for goodness sake! He's going out of his mind, trying to find you."

"There's no point-"

Stacy interrupted her friend again. "You left a note," she emphasized. "He deserves more than that."

There was silence on the other line for several moments before Joey managed to say, "Please don't force me to do this. I'm just not ready yet."

Rachel packed up the last of her belongings and watched as the movers took the boxes away. With her hands resting on her hips, she surveyed her empty apartment with a heavy heart. She knew better but she just couldn't bring herself to face it. This time round, she had to be selfish because she loved him.

"Roger, I'm already late. Could you give this to Mr. Shutt when he gets back, please?"

Pacey hurriedly slipped his arms into his jacket and looked over to the next cubicle.

"Sure."

He handed a file over to his colleague and quickly made his way out of the office. Just then, his telephone rang.

"Pace-" Roger started to say, then saw that the former had already left.

He reached over and picked up the phone. "Bergins' Consultants. How may I help you?"

"Uh, hello. I was looking for Pacey. Is he there?"

"You must be Rachel," Roger replied enthusiastically. "He just left. I think he was on his way to meet you."

"That's all right then. By-"

She started to hang up but Roger intercepted. "I heard you guys were moving in together. Congratulations."

"Thanks."

"You must be one hell of a woman to have stopped him from going to Chicago. Umm, excuse the expression," he apologized. "He said you were very understanding about it but still he chose to turn it down."

"Excuse me?"

"You know, the promotion?"

When she failed to respond, he prompted, "You still there?"

"Oh...yes, the promotion...I have to go. It was nice talking to you..."

"Roger."

"Roger. Bye."

He hung up, feeling envious of what Pacey had going for him.

He had no idea what he just said was going to change her life forever.

"Sorry, I'm late. Caught up at the office as usual..." he began to say as he came in the front door. His voice drifted off as he looked around him, in their new apartment. Rachel was seated on a box in the corner of their balcony, her head tilted towards the view. 

He pushed aside the sliding door that separated the living room from the outside to look at her. "Where is everything? They guaranteed-" He stopped talking when he realized that something was amiss.

She remained silent.

"What's going on?" he asked, softly, taking a step into the balcony.

"I sent the truck back." She turned her head and looked him in the eye. Her eyes were red and puffy. "I was so embarrassed," she smiled slightly, "but they were real nice, the guys. Apparently it's not so unusual."

He tucked his hands into the pockets of his pants and looked out into the distance, trying to avoid her gaze.

"You can kid yourself. I'm good at that."

He didn't say anything.

"See, he loves me. He's moving in with me. See, he's moving in with me so he, he can't love her..."

He turned to look at her.

"See, he didn't tell me about Chicago because he loves me so he can't still love her-"

"Rachel-"

"But you're stuck some place. And I've been stuck there with you, and we can put furniture all around it, we're still stuck."

Pacey couldn't deny the truth of what she was saying.

"And as a matter of fact, I can do better." She paused. "I deserve better."

She managed a weak smile at him and then looked down at her hands. When she raised her gaze again, she felt a tear fall down her cheek.

Without a word, he stepped forward to take her hand. Then he kneeled down beside her and rested his head in her lap, silently asking for forgiveness.

There was no longer any point in harboring resentment. Rachel felt his anguish as clearly as she felt her own. With her other hand, she ran her fingers through his hair one last time and hoped the truth revealed would eventually lighten the load of both their emotional burdens.

To be continued...

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