A/N: Hi guys, sorry for the delay (as compared to the one-a-day updates that I've been doing lately). I've been exceptionally busy this week, but now that things are slowing down, here's a longish chapter for you. Please read and review! Thanks as always...
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The coal of Ben's cigarette glowed red-hot in the darkness. He sat on the edge of a beach chair and stared blindly in the direction of the crashing waves, breathing in salty sea air and dry, dusty-smelling smoke and trying like hell to think about anything but Amy Lindley. Therefore Amy Lindley was all he was thinking about.
Last night already seemed like a dream. It had that foggy, surreal, not- quite-tangible feel to it when he pressed his mind to call up specifics. Whether that was the beer he'd drunk or simply the effect of being alone with the girl he loved and hearing her tell him she loved him too, he wasn't sure. She had told him that. And yeah, she'd been drunk, too, but he thought that was more the effect than the cause. The alcohol might have loosened her tongue, but it hadn't fabricated the sentiments behind her words. No way.
After leaving the party, the two of them had sat right on this very lounge chair, side by side, sharing a cigarette and the deserted strip of beach and a closeness they hadn't experienced before, even in the brief time they had been more than what they'd since become to one another. She had broken the initial silence with a statement that, though simple enough, was thick with importance...
"I meant what I said before, Ben."
"What's that?" Not looking at her, refusing to lead her. She had to do this all by herself. He couldn't be a part of it, he had to let her say her piece solo. It wouldn't count if he touched it.
"I can't seem to find the right words, but you know what I was trying to say, don't you?"
"Mmm." He took a long drag on the cigarette and fought the urge to cough. He had to play it cool. Noncommittal. Impartial. Oh yeah, no problem. She put her hand on his arm, and it was warm and soft and perfect.
"I'm sorry you got hurt before. I didn't want to hurt either one of you...or myself for that matter. Maybe I thought you could take it better than he could, maybe that was it. But now I think maybe you were right when you told me I need to make decisions for myself, that I can't always be thinking of him and what my actions will do to him. Because it's my life, and even though he's a big part of it...well...so are you. And I'm not happy, Ben."
He looked at her searchingly, his expression carefully neutral.
"I'm not," she repeated earnestly. Tears glistened in her eyes, reflecting the moonlight and her innocence; at that moment she looked even younger than her almost-sixteen years, and his heart ached for her and her choices, the ones she should never have had to make, the ones he'd had a part in forcing on her. Those were choices that always came back to haunt you later on as you tried to live your life with a confidence you'd never felt in your decision. How could he have done that to her? How could Andrew have? They were supposed to love her.
"I'm sorry," he whispered gruffly. "You deserve to be happy."
"I'm happy...when I'm with you." Her voice was soft, timid, barely audible over the sound of the waves. She moved closer to him, and his heartbeat quickened. He grasped tightly to his restraint, fighting the urge to hold her, kiss her...it wasn't safe yet. She was still on her own.
Her hand moved up his arm, brushing his cheek as she turned his head so that he had to look at her.
"What do you want, Amy?" He'd asked the question once before, and her answer had slammed a door. Now he waited, afraid to hope that this time it would open one, but hoping anyway.
"I love you," she said. "I want you."
She leaned in and kissed him, and at first he didn't kiss her back, struggling with clashing thoughts and emotions that grappled for control of him, logic snuffed out by desire, uncertainty and guilt drowned by need...and then his lips met hers, his mouth opening to taste and feel her, the familiarity filling his heart and making him feel like crying even as they lowered themselves to the sand in each other's arms...
He'd been lost in the memory that now felt like a dream. He flicked his cigarette away and rubbed his eyes with his hands, roughly, hating himself. Hating Andrew. Hating her.
If only that were true.
He stood up and began to walk back down the beach. From here he could see the lights of the Icehouse and hear voices and laughter and even the tinkling of plates and silverware. Without really thinking about what he was doing or why, he headed in that direction.
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Pacey was wiping down the bar when the kid appeared out of nowhere, sitting down on the very barstool where Doug had sat half an hour before. He looked like a train wreck.
"What can I get you?" Pacey asked, deciding against his initial impulse to ask him who'd gunned down his best friend. The kid didn't look like he was in a jovial mood.
"Whatever's on tap," Ben said, taking out his battered cigarette pack and lighting a slightly crooked Camel.
"One root beer, coming up," Pacey said, and when Ben glared at him, he amended, "Sorry, kid, but I ain't losing my liquor license over my niece's partner in crime, even if you do look like you could use a cold one." He poured the root beer into a pilsner glass and set it down in front of Ben, who nodded his thanks. Pacey indicated the cigarette. "Those things will kill ya, you know."
"I'll keep that in mind."
Pacey looked at Ben thoughtfully, trying to decide if he should stay out of whatever this was. But the kid had wandered in here for a reason, and maybe he needed to talk.
"You're lucky you didn't get here any sooner. Our lovable local sheriff and his English teacher sidekick were here, actually right where you're sitting. I guess that wouldn't have been a happy run-in," Pacey said, trying to open the door for the kid to spill his guts.
Ben nodded. "They have nothing to worry about. Nothing."
"Do I detect a hint of bitterness?"
"Nah, I don't care. I mean, it's not like she's the only girl in the world or anything. I'll just keep fishing."
Pacey raised a half-amused eyebrow at Ben. "Well, that's one way of looking at it. Then again, when you've caught that special fish, it's hard to throw it back and start over. You have to think about getting the right kind of bait, and getting to know a new fish, and that's not to mention forgetting about the old one. The sea's a big place, my friend, but there aren't that many really special fish."
"Can we stop with the fish analogy? It sucks."
Pacey leaned across the bar on his elbow. "Man, I've been there," he said more seriously. "I know it hurts, but that's love. That's life. It's worth it."
"I don't know about that."
"Oh, because you're so wise? Let me tell you, I've been right where you are, and I would have said the same thing, but I was wrong and so are you. It is the best thing in the world, when it works. And when it doesn't...it's the worst kind of pain." Pacey averted his gaze and added quietly, "Is she staying with him?"
Ben's eyes snapped up to Pacey's. He was taken off guard. "Looks that way," he said.
Pacey nodded, suddenly flashing back to a conversation on a dock a lifetime ago, when a certain dark-haired beauty had broken his heart into a million pieces on the day that had been one of the worst of his life up until then. "I think maybe you should be the one to walk away first this time," he'd said to her. And she had.
Pacey looked at the kid and saw that kind of pain in his eyes. He knew better than anyone, perhaps, that only one person could ease that particular pain. He resisted the temptation to reach over and pat the kid's arm, and instead turned toward a group of young women who had just seated themselves at the bar. Ben would have to work his way through this. Like he had. Like all of them somehow managed to do.
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Amy was sitting on the pier behind their house when Jack found her.
"Hi there, baby, I thought you went over to Jessie's house..." he began, and then he got a good look at his daughter. "What's wrong? What happened?" he demanded, alarmed, kneeling down next to her.
She glared at him, shrinking back as he reached out to put his hand on her shoulder. "Congratulations, Dad," she said, her shaky voice dripping venom. "Your wish has come true. I won't be seeing Ben anymore. Andrew either, for that matter. So I'll be your pristine little angelic virginal daughter for the rest of my life; you don't even have to invest in that chastity belt. I've lost everyone this time."
"Honey..." Jack was taken aback not just by how upset she was, but by the anger underlying it. The resentment in her eyes. "What happened?"
He tried again to touch her, but she flung her arm back so hard she almost lost her balance. "Don't!"
Taking a deep breath, Jack forced himself to sound calm and reasonable. "Listen, whatever happened, it's not my fault. You know I hate to see you hurting like this, Amy, please tell me..."
"It IS your fault! Yours and Doug's. If you hadn't forbidden me to see him, he wouldn't have had to come over and persuade me to go with him so that we could sort things out, and Andy wouldn't have seen us together, and I could have done it in my own time, my own way. Not the way it happened. Now he hates me. They both do. So you see, it's because of you! I hate you!" Amy's voice had grown gradually louder and louder, until she was all-out shouting at him, tears clouding her vision all the while.
Jack stared at her, stunned. She had never spoken to him like this. Doug, sure, but never him. He swallowed hard and resolved to keep his cool. "I know you're upset right now, Amy, so I'm going to let some of this slide, but you need to calm yourself down and think about what you're saying. This is me, Amy. I'm your father, and I love you, and I want to understand what you're going through, but you're going to have to slow down and help me out here."
Her teary eyes were as cold as ice. "You're not," she spat.
He didn't breathe, hoping like hell she wasn't going to say what he feared most.
"Amy, please..." He reached out and took hold of her arm.
"You're NOT my father." The words hung in the air like some toxic gas between them.
As his hand slackened and fell from her arm, Amy let out a rasping sob and ran past him and into the house. Jack stood where he was, feeling like she had just reached inside his chest and twisted his heart in her hands. His girl, his Amy, had always had a tendency to lash out when she was hurting. She was like a live wire in this state, he knew that, dangerous and emotionally destructive. She'd said the same thing to Doug once, but that was different...somehow. Bearable, almost understandable, though he felt guilty for even thinking that, as if he were trying to suppress the feeling that he was more Amy's dad than Doug was...they had both ridden this roller coaster the whole way together, and parenthood didn't keep score. But though he wouldn't admit it even to himself, Jack had always prided himself on being the good daddy, the fun daddy, the one she came to with good news and for comfort, the one she loved perhaps a tiny bit more.
And now she was turning on both of them. Looking up at her darkened bedroom window, he said aloud, "I'm afraid we're losing her, Jen. I don't know what we've done wrong, but she's slipping away from us."
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The coal of Ben's cigarette glowed red-hot in the darkness. He sat on the edge of a beach chair and stared blindly in the direction of the crashing waves, breathing in salty sea air and dry, dusty-smelling smoke and trying like hell to think about anything but Amy Lindley. Therefore Amy Lindley was all he was thinking about.
Last night already seemed like a dream. It had that foggy, surreal, not- quite-tangible feel to it when he pressed his mind to call up specifics. Whether that was the beer he'd drunk or simply the effect of being alone with the girl he loved and hearing her tell him she loved him too, he wasn't sure. She had told him that. And yeah, she'd been drunk, too, but he thought that was more the effect than the cause. The alcohol might have loosened her tongue, but it hadn't fabricated the sentiments behind her words. No way.
After leaving the party, the two of them had sat right on this very lounge chair, side by side, sharing a cigarette and the deserted strip of beach and a closeness they hadn't experienced before, even in the brief time they had been more than what they'd since become to one another. She had broken the initial silence with a statement that, though simple enough, was thick with importance...
"I meant what I said before, Ben."
"What's that?" Not looking at her, refusing to lead her. She had to do this all by herself. He couldn't be a part of it, he had to let her say her piece solo. It wouldn't count if he touched it.
"I can't seem to find the right words, but you know what I was trying to say, don't you?"
"Mmm." He took a long drag on the cigarette and fought the urge to cough. He had to play it cool. Noncommittal. Impartial. Oh yeah, no problem. She put her hand on his arm, and it was warm and soft and perfect.
"I'm sorry you got hurt before. I didn't want to hurt either one of you...or myself for that matter. Maybe I thought you could take it better than he could, maybe that was it. But now I think maybe you were right when you told me I need to make decisions for myself, that I can't always be thinking of him and what my actions will do to him. Because it's my life, and even though he's a big part of it...well...so are you. And I'm not happy, Ben."
He looked at her searchingly, his expression carefully neutral.
"I'm not," she repeated earnestly. Tears glistened in her eyes, reflecting the moonlight and her innocence; at that moment she looked even younger than her almost-sixteen years, and his heart ached for her and her choices, the ones she should never have had to make, the ones he'd had a part in forcing on her. Those were choices that always came back to haunt you later on as you tried to live your life with a confidence you'd never felt in your decision. How could he have done that to her? How could Andrew have? They were supposed to love her.
"I'm sorry," he whispered gruffly. "You deserve to be happy."
"I'm happy...when I'm with you." Her voice was soft, timid, barely audible over the sound of the waves. She moved closer to him, and his heartbeat quickened. He grasped tightly to his restraint, fighting the urge to hold her, kiss her...it wasn't safe yet. She was still on her own.
Her hand moved up his arm, brushing his cheek as she turned his head so that he had to look at her.
"What do you want, Amy?" He'd asked the question once before, and her answer had slammed a door. Now he waited, afraid to hope that this time it would open one, but hoping anyway.
"I love you," she said. "I want you."
She leaned in and kissed him, and at first he didn't kiss her back, struggling with clashing thoughts and emotions that grappled for control of him, logic snuffed out by desire, uncertainty and guilt drowned by need...and then his lips met hers, his mouth opening to taste and feel her, the familiarity filling his heart and making him feel like crying even as they lowered themselves to the sand in each other's arms...
He'd been lost in the memory that now felt like a dream. He flicked his cigarette away and rubbed his eyes with his hands, roughly, hating himself. Hating Andrew. Hating her.
If only that were true.
He stood up and began to walk back down the beach. From here he could see the lights of the Icehouse and hear voices and laughter and even the tinkling of plates and silverware. Without really thinking about what he was doing or why, he headed in that direction.
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Pacey was wiping down the bar when the kid appeared out of nowhere, sitting down on the very barstool where Doug had sat half an hour before. He looked like a train wreck.
"What can I get you?" Pacey asked, deciding against his initial impulse to ask him who'd gunned down his best friend. The kid didn't look like he was in a jovial mood.
"Whatever's on tap," Ben said, taking out his battered cigarette pack and lighting a slightly crooked Camel.
"One root beer, coming up," Pacey said, and when Ben glared at him, he amended, "Sorry, kid, but I ain't losing my liquor license over my niece's partner in crime, even if you do look like you could use a cold one." He poured the root beer into a pilsner glass and set it down in front of Ben, who nodded his thanks. Pacey indicated the cigarette. "Those things will kill ya, you know."
"I'll keep that in mind."
Pacey looked at Ben thoughtfully, trying to decide if he should stay out of whatever this was. But the kid had wandered in here for a reason, and maybe he needed to talk.
"You're lucky you didn't get here any sooner. Our lovable local sheriff and his English teacher sidekick were here, actually right where you're sitting. I guess that wouldn't have been a happy run-in," Pacey said, trying to open the door for the kid to spill his guts.
Ben nodded. "They have nothing to worry about. Nothing."
"Do I detect a hint of bitterness?"
"Nah, I don't care. I mean, it's not like she's the only girl in the world or anything. I'll just keep fishing."
Pacey raised a half-amused eyebrow at Ben. "Well, that's one way of looking at it. Then again, when you've caught that special fish, it's hard to throw it back and start over. You have to think about getting the right kind of bait, and getting to know a new fish, and that's not to mention forgetting about the old one. The sea's a big place, my friend, but there aren't that many really special fish."
"Can we stop with the fish analogy? It sucks."
Pacey leaned across the bar on his elbow. "Man, I've been there," he said more seriously. "I know it hurts, but that's love. That's life. It's worth it."
"I don't know about that."
"Oh, because you're so wise? Let me tell you, I've been right where you are, and I would have said the same thing, but I was wrong and so are you. It is the best thing in the world, when it works. And when it doesn't...it's the worst kind of pain." Pacey averted his gaze and added quietly, "Is she staying with him?"
Ben's eyes snapped up to Pacey's. He was taken off guard. "Looks that way," he said.
Pacey nodded, suddenly flashing back to a conversation on a dock a lifetime ago, when a certain dark-haired beauty had broken his heart into a million pieces on the day that had been one of the worst of his life up until then. "I think maybe you should be the one to walk away first this time," he'd said to her. And she had.
Pacey looked at the kid and saw that kind of pain in his eyes. He knew better than anyone, perhaps, that only one person could ease that particular pain. He resisted the temptation to reach over and pat the kid's arm, and instead turned toward a group of young women who had just seated themselves at the bar. Ben would have to work his way through this. Like he had. Like all of them somehow managed to do.
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Amy was sitting on the pier behind their house when Jack found her.
"Hi there, baby, I thought you went over to Jessie's house..." he began, and then he got a good look at his daughter. "What's wrong? What happened?" he demanded, alarmed, kneeling down next to her.
She glared at him, shrinking back as he reached out to put his hand on her shoulder. "Congratulations, Dad," she said, her shaky voice dripping venom. "Your wish has come true. I won't be seeing Ben anymore. Andrew either, for that matter. So I'll be your pristine little angelic virginal daughter for the rest of my life; you don't even have to invest in that chastity belt. I've lost everyone this time."
"Honey..." Jack was taken aback not just by how upset she was, but by the anger underlying it. The resentment in her eyes. "What happened?"
He tried again to touch her, but she flung her arm back so hard she almost lost her balance. "Don't!"
Taking a deep breath, Jack forced himself to sound calm and reasonable. "Listen, whatever happened, it's not my fault. You know I hate to see you hurting like this, Amy, please tell me..."
"It IS your fault! Yours and Doug's. If you hadn't forbidden me to see him, he wouldn't have had to come over and persuade me to go with him so that we could sort things out, and Andy wouldn't have seen us together, and I could have done it in my own time, my own way. Not the way it happened. Now he hates me. They both do. So you see, it's because of you! I hate you!" Amy's voice had grown gradually louder and louder, until she was all-out shouting at him, tears clouding her vision all the while.
Jack stared at her, stunned. She had never spoken to him like this. Doug, sure, but never him. He swallowed hard and resolved to keep his cool. "I know you're upset right now, Amy, so I'm going to let some of this slide, but you need to calm yourself down and think about what you're saying. This is me, Amy. I'm your father, and I love you, and I want to understand what you're going through, but you're going to have to slow down and help me out here."
Her teary eyes were as cold as ice. "You're not," she spat.
He didn't breathe, hoping like hell she wasn't going to say what he feared most.
"Amy, please..." He reached out and took hold of her arm.
"You're NOT my father." The words hung in the air like some toxic gas between them.
As his hand slackened and fell from her arm, Amy let out a rasping sob and ran past him and into the house. Jack stood where he was, feeling like she had just reached inside his chest and twisted his heart in her hands. His girl, his Amy, had always had a tendency to lash out when she was hurting. She was like a live wire in this state, he knew that, dangerous and emotionally destructive. She'd said the same thing to Doug once, but that was different...somehow. Bearable, almost understandable, though he felt guilty for even thinking that, as if he were trying to suppress the feeling that he was more Amy's dad than Doug was...they had both ridden this roller coaster the whole way together, and parenthood didn't keep score. But though he wouldn't admit it even to himself, Jack had always prided himself on being the good daddy, the fun daddy, the one she came to with good news and for comfort, the one she loved perhaps a tiny bit more.
And now she was turning on both of them. Looking up at her darkened bedroom window, he said aloud, "I'm afraid we're losing her, Jen. I don't know what we've done wrong, but she's slipping away from us."