Part Three: The aftereffects of death
When Pacey returned home late Sunday evening, it was to find his father at the kitchen table, making funeral arrangements.
"Where have you been?" His voice was filled with anger, and he did not look the slightest bit remorseful at the task he was doing. Alcohol was strong on his breath, and a mixture of anger and pain welled up inside Pacey. His brother was dead and his father was drunk.
"I was at the McPhee's," Pacey responded, turning to go upstairs. He shouldn't; couldn't face his father like this.
"Your brother dies and you go off to do who knows what with your girlfriend? How will that look to the town? Sheriff's son dies and younger, already pathetic son doesn't give a care."
It felt like he'd been punched in the face. Wordlessly he turned away, heading for the stairs, forcing himself to ignore his father.
Which he found out was the wrong thing to do about ten seconds later.
He wasn't aware his father could move that fast, but suddenly he was beside Pacey, holding his shoulder in a painful grip. In one sharp movement he'd turned Pacey back to face him, and stared at him with cold distaste.
"You're the worst excuse for a son possible, but you will show respect when talking to me." With each word his grip seemed to grow tighter, voice low, and too calm.
Pacey said nothing. He didn't know what to say. All he knew was that he had to get away before his father's anger heightened any further or there would be real trouble which he just couldn't handle right now.
His father appeared to be having the same problem. He simply stared at Pacey, eyes burning, fingers digging into his youngest son's flesh almost like needles, alcohol pumping through his bloodstream.
"Get out of my sight," he finally spat, looking at Pacey as though he were a particularly disgusting insect.
Pacey quickly obliged, barely noticing at his father released him.
---
Monday morning only served to deepen the pain that Doug's death had caused.
When he walked into school, the hall around him seemed to go deadly silent. Thousands of eyes it seemed were staring at him from all directions, and then the whispering started.
He tried to ignore them all and simply walked towards his locker. His path was blocked a few seconds later as one of the cheerleaders appeared out of nowhere in front of him.
"Pacey, right?" As this time last year he would've been thrilled at the prospect of actually talking to a cheerleader, but today he'd rather be doing anything else.
"Yeah," he mumbled in response to her question, looking around for an escape. Behind him and to his left and right, were groups of whispering kids, watching him with interest and blocking any hope of him leaving.
"I just wanted to say," the cheerleader's name he still didn't know continued, "How sorry I am. My great grandfather died like 10 years ago and I…"
He nodded curtly, a gesture extremely out of character for him. Despite the fact that he was dating Andie, he doubted he would turn down a conversation with a cheerleader.
But he didn't want to talk about this.
Not now, while the wound was so fresh and painful… And by her mentioning the word 'died' it was like tearing off the microscopic scab that had started to form and exposing the pain all over again.
"Umm…" she stammered, backing away slightly.
"Thanks a lot, I… really… appreciate it but… I've got to… get my books."
She moved aside, eyes apologetic. She didn't actually care did she? He couldn't think about it right now.
He pushed passed her and avoiding looking at any of the teens along the way to his locker.
He was just getting out his English book when he felt a warm hand slide into his. He turned around and was instantly swept into a hug.
"Hey," Andie said into his shoulder, and he moved back from her slightly.
As one they glanced around the hallway at the clusters of still watching and whispering kids. Pacey caught sight of the same cheerleader from before with some friends. She was watching him too, and he couldn't stand it anymore.
He was about to pull out of Andie's arms completely and do whoever knows what, when her lips touched his. Her kiss was filled with sympathy and tenderness…
But the emotion he felt the most was understanding.
---
The next few days seemed to run together in Pacey's mind.
The funeral loomed ever closer, and he spent as much time as possible at the McPhee's. His father sent some men from the station to clean out Doug's apartment, and when Pacey came home one evening, he found an assortment of things on his bed.
"They're your brothers," John responded when Pacey inquired about them. "Didn't want 'em, but your mother didn't want to cell 'em. Keep 'em in your room and if they get ruined…"
He left his sentence hanging in the air, and left Pacey staring at his brother's belongings, looking as though he were almost afraid to touch them.
The funeral was set for Wednesday morning, while everyone was in school. Andie felt terrible and offered to cut class in order to go with him, which showed just how much she cared for Pacey, but he refused. She gave him an extra long hug as they said goodbye on Tuesday night, and a part of him wanted to say he'd changed his mind and beg her to go.
"If you change your mind…" she said, as though reading his thoughts.
"No. See ya tomorrow, McPhee." He was firm but couldn't resist giving her an extra good night kiss or two.
"Bye…" She could sense his mood and he knew it, but she didn't say anything and for that he was grateful.
---
It was over. The funeral was over but it felt like the grieving had only just begun.
Why on earth was the sun so bright? The birds so happy? It was always raining at funerals on TV… why couldn't it be the same in reality?
The party was breaking up. It had been a graveside service, and the headstone, as well as the freshly dug dirt around it were covered with fresh flowers of all kinds.
There was a luncheon of some kind back at his house, but he couldn't bring himself to go. He'd brought his books with him in case he wanted to go to school and at least get to have lunch with Andie and the rest of his friends, but he just couldn't bring himself to move.
He stood alone in the cemetery, staring at Doug's grave, the inscription on the headstone blocked off by flowers.
Why, why had it been Doug?
Why couldn't it have been someone else in his family? Anyone else? Well, not anyone else. Not Gretchen…
An abrupt snapping of a twig made him jump. He turned quickly, but found his vision blurred. He hadn't even realized he'd started crying, but hoped fervently that whomever was nearby didn't know him.
"Hey, Pace."
Just his luck. What on earth was Jen doing here?
"What…"
She came to stand beside him, reaching out as though to hug him but he moved away.
"I forgot my notebook at home and saw all the cars leaving so decided to see if you were still here." There was an awkward pause and then, "you-you want to talk about it?"
He shook his head. If he spoke he knew his voice would break and the tears would never stop then.
"Okay," she said softly, and stepped closer.
"Y-you should go," he whispered after a lengthy pause.
She nodded, but didn't move. She placed a consolatory hand on his shoulder, and he felt the tears coming faster.
"Pace…" either she'd finally noticed or just now chose to say something. Her arm came around his shoulders and he wanted to move away but couldn't. He struggled against the tears, yet they came anyway, faster and faster, like an endless waterfall of despair.
"C'mere - c'mere." Jen's other arm came up and she embraced him fully. His face fell into her hair and after a pause he returned the hug, crying silently yet unable to stop.
"Shh… it's okay. Shh… it's okay… tsokay, Pace... shh." She murmured against his shoulder, feeling tears falling into her hair.
Slowly, he drew away. He hated anyone seeing him like this, but especially one of his close friends.
He'd never known Jen was so perceptive, so her words took him slightly be surprise.
"You wanna come back to school with me?" Her voice was soft, filled with a tentative concern and uncertainty as though she was afraid that this would be the wrong thing to suggest.
He hesitated, and then nodded. Maybe familiar actions would help him forget help the pain lessen some.
---
Andie was halfway through her lunch when she saw Jen walking towards herself, Jack, and Joey's table, someone just behind her.
"Hey," she greeted, nibbling absently on an apple.
"Look who I found," Jen said as she sat down next to Jack, revealing the other person with her.
"Pacey," Andie said in surprise motioning him to sit down next to her.
"Hey, McPhee." He greeted the others and Andie felt his hand take hers under the table. She squeezed his fingers tightly, hating the look in his eyes, the unsteadiness of his breathing and wanting to do something, anything to take them away.
Dawson came over and greeted Pacey, before starting a conversation with Jack and Jen. Andie glanced at her lunch and was suddenly not hungry. Shoving her fruit over to Pacey, she opened her mouth to ask how the funeral had gone but at the look on his face decided not to.
Instead, she just sat holding his hand and picking at her food, watching as Pacey did the same with her apples.
---
Pacey got home around seven that evening. He tried to avoid the kitchen but was unable to. His father sat alone once again at the table, the room filled with flowers and food. He was eating some of he left over that the guests had brought and drinking a beer.
"Where ya been?" His voice made Pacey jump, but he wouldn't let his father know that simply his voice had such an effect on him. He looked the older man straight in the eye, and said in what he hoped was a bold voice,
"Nowhere."
The look in John Witter's eyes made Pacey's insides turn to ice. He raised form the table, and Pacey had no doubt that he would have punched him if it weren't for the entrance of Gretchen.
"Hey, Pace," she said in forced casualness, as though she knew what was going on. "Hi, Dad."
"Gretchen," John said stiffly, and returned to the table giving Pacey a hard glare.
Gretchen motioned for Pacey to follow her, and they walked up to his room.
"How'd you know-" Pacey started, but Gretchen cut him off.
"When dad's this angry, he'll hurt almost anyone," she said quietly. "Where have you been all day?"
"I was with my girlfriend," Pacey said, and Gretchen caught sight of a picture on his nightstand. From her place on the bed she reached out and picked it up, studying it carefully.
It was of Pacey and Andie on their three-month anniversary. Andie was holding a bouquet of white roses, being held together by the trunk of a stuffed elephant, which rested in a basket filled with chocolates while Pacey was holding his unopened present, which had turned out to be chocolates as well.
His arm as around her shoulders while hers was around his waist. They were both smiling as though they didn't have a care in the world, and just looking at the picture and remembering that night made Pacey's spirits lift slightly.
"That her?" Gretchen asked, a smile touching her lips.
"Yeah," Pacey nodded, tone slightly lighter.
There was a pause, and then Gretchen kissed him on the cheek and got up. "Night, Pace."
"Night, Gretch." Then she was gone and Pacey lay back on his bed, closing his eyes without even getting undressed or getting under the covers. He lifted the picture of Andie and himself and placed it on the pillow next to him, stroking her face idly with the tip of his finger.
"Night, Andie," he whispered, feeling at peace for the first time that day. She hadn't asked him to explain anything, hadn't asked how the funeral had gone. She had simply stayed with him, trying to act normal but still seeming concerned. And for the first time, it didn't bother him. It felt good to know that she was worried; felt good to know she cared.
He fell asleep clutching the picture, smiling slightly. For the moment his father's cruel words and actions were forgotten. For the moment, the loss of his brother did not seem quite as painful.
For the moment.
Author's Notes:
I'm so sorry for the long wait… major writers block and I was concentrating solely on my Smallville fic. I just finished that, so aside form one shots, this is my main priority at the moment. I'm sorry this part was so slow… there will be both more romance and drama in the next. Oh, and the scene with Jen was originally going to be with Gretchen but I was in a Jen mood that day, so that's why I changed things slightly. If it seems really out of place, tell me and I'll revise this.
Review please, and expect the next part in a couple of weeks… start threatening me if it doesn't appear, okay? Okay.
Lala
When Pacey returned home late Sunday evening, it was to find his father at the kitchen table, making funeral arrangements.
"Where have you been?" His voice was filled with anger, and he did not look the slightest bit remorseful at the task he was doing. Alcohol was strong on his breath, and a mixture of anger and pain welled up inside Pacey. His brother was dead and his father was drunk.
"I was at the McPhee's," Pacey responded, turning to go upstairs. He shouldn't; couldn't face his father like this.
"Your brother dies and you go off to do who knows what with your girlfriend? How will that look to the town? Sheriff's son dies and younger, already pathetic son doesn't give a care."
It felt like he'd been punched in the face. Wordlessly he turned away, heading for the stairs, forcing himself to ignore his father.
Which he found out was the wrong thing to do about ten seconds later.
He wasn't aware his father could move that fast, but suddenly he was beside Pacey, holding his shoulder in a painful grip. In one sharp movement he'd turned Pacey back to face him, and stared at him with cold distaste.
"You're the worst excuse for a son possible, but you will show respect when talking to me." With each word his grip seemed to grow tighter, voice low, and too calm.
Pacey said nothing. He didn't know what to say. All he knew was that he had to get away before his father's anger heightened any further or there would be real trouble which he just couldn't handle right now.
His father appeared to be having the same problem. He simply stared at Pacey, eyes burning, fingers digging into his youngest son's flesh almost like needles, alcohol pumping through his bloodstream.
"Get out of my sight," he finally spat, looking at Pacey as though he were a particularly disgusting insect.
Pacey quickly obliged, barely noticing at his father released him.
---
Monday morning only served to deepen the pain that Doug's death had caused.
When he walked into school, the hall around him seemed to go deadly silent. Thousands of eyes it seemed were staring at him from all directions, and then the whispering started.
He tried to ignore them all and simply walked towards his locker. His path was blocked a few seconds later as one of the cheerleaders appeared out of nowhere in front of him.
"Pacey, right?" As this time last year he would've been thrilled at the prospect of actually talking to a cheerleader, but today he'd rather be doing anything else.
"Yeah," he mumbled in response to her question, looking around for an escape. Behind him and to his left and right, were groups of whispering kids, watching him with interest and blocking any hope of him leaving.
"I just wanted to say," the cheerleader's name he still didn't know continued, "How sorry I am. My great grandfather died like 10 years ago and I…"
He nodded curtly, a gesture extremely out of character for him. Despite the fact that he was dating Andie, he doubted he would turn down a conversation with a cheerleader.
But he didn't want to talk about this.
Not now, while the wound was so fresh and painful… And by her mentioning the word 'died' it was like tearing off the microscopic scab that had started to form and exposing the pain all over again.
"Umm…" she stammered, backing away slightly.
"Thanks a lot, I… really… appreciate it but… I've got to… get my books."
She moved aside, eyes apologetic. She didn't actually care did she? He couldn't think about it right now.
He pushed passed her and avoiding looking at any of the teens along the way to his locker.
He was just getting out his English book when he felt a warm hand slide into his. He turned around and was instantly swept into a hug.
"Hey," Andie said into his shoulder, and he moved back from her slightly.
As one they glanced around the hallway at the clusters of still watching and whispering kids. Pacey caught sight of the same cheerleader from before with some friends. She was watching him too, and he couldn't stand it anymore.
He was about to pull out of Andie's arms completely and do whoever knows what, when her lips touched his. Her kiss was filled with sympathy and tenderness…
But the emotion he felt the most was understanding.
---
The next few days seemed to run together in Pacey's mind.
The funeral loomed ever closer, and he spent as much time as possible at the McPhee's. His father sent some men from the station to clean out Doug's apartment, and when Pacey came home one evening, he found an assortment of things on his bed.
"They're your brothers," John responded when Pacey inquired about them. "Didn't want 'em, but your mother didn't want to cell 'em. Keep 'em in your room and if they get ruined…"
He left his sentence hanging in the air, and left Pacey staring at his brother's belongings, looking as though he were almost afraid to touch them.
The funeral was set for Wednesday morning, while everyone was in school. Andie felt terrible and offered to cut class in order to go with him, which showed just how much she cared for Pacey, but he refused. She gave him an extra long hug as they said goodbye on Tuesday night, and a part of him wanted to say he'd changed his mind and beg her to go.
"If you change your mind…" she said, as though reading his thoughts.
"No. See ya tomorrow, McPhee." He was firm but couldn't resist giving her an extra good night kiss or two.
"Bye…" She could sense his mood and he knew it, but she didn't say anything and for that he was grateful.
---
It was over. The funeral was over but it felt like the grieving had only just begun.
Why on earth was the sun so bright? The birds so happy? It was always raining at funerals on TV… why couldn't it be the same in reality?
The party was breaking up. It had been a graveside service, and the headstone, as well as the freshly dug dirt around it were covered with fresh flowers of all kinds.
There was a luncheon of some kind back at his house, but he couldn't bring himself to go. He'd brought his books with him in case he wanted to go to school and at least get to have lunch with Andie and the rest of his friends, but he just couldn't bring himself to move.
He stood alone in the cemetery, staring at Doug's grave, the inscription on the headstone blocked off by flowers.
Why, why had it been Doug?
Why couldn't it have been someone else in his family? Anyone else? Well, not anyone else. Not Gretchen…
An abrupt snapping of a twig made him jump. He turned quickly, but found his vision blurred. He hadn't even realized he'd started crying, but hoped fervently that whomever was nearby didn't know him.
"Hey, Pace."
Just his luck. What on earth was Jen doing here?
"What…"
She came to stand beside him, reaching out as though to hug him but he moved away.
"I forgot my notebook at home and saw all the cars leaving so decided to see if you were still here." There was an awkward pause and then, "you-you want to talk about it?"
He shook his head. If he spoke he knew his voice would break and the tears would never stop then.
"Okay," she said softly, and stepped closer.
"Y-you should go," he whispered after a lengthy pause.
She nodded, but didn't move. She placed a consolatory hand on his shoulder, and he felt the tears coming faster.
"Pace…" either she'd finally noticed or just now chose to say something. Her arm came around his shoulders and he wanted to move away but couldn't. He struggled against the tears, yet they came anyway, faster and faster, like an endless waterfall of despair.
"C'mere - c'mere." Jen's other arm came up and she embraced him fully. His face fell into her hair and after a pause he returned the hug, crying silently yet unable to stop.
"Shh… it's okay. Shh… it's okay… tsokay, Pace... shh." She murmured against his shoulder, feeling tears falling into her hair.
Slowly, he drew away. He hated anyone seeing him like this, but especially one of his close friends.
He'd never known Jen was so perceptive, so her words took him slightly be surprise.
"You wanna come back to school with me?" Her voice was soft, filled with a tentative concern and uncertainty as though she was afraid that this would be the wrong thing to suggest.
He hesitated, and then nodded. Maybe familiar actions would help him forget help the pain lessen some.
---
Andie was halfway through her lunch when she saw Jen walking towards herself, Jack, and Joey's table, someone just behind her.
"Hey," she greeted, nibbling absently on an apple.
"Look who I found," Jen said as she sat down next to Jack, revealing the other person with her.
"Pacey," Andie said in surprise motioning him to sit down next to her.
"Hey, McPhee." He greeted the others and Andie felt his hand take hers under the table. She squeezed his fingers tightly, hating the look in his eyes, the unsteadiness of his breathing and wanting to do something, anything to take them away.
Dawson came over and greeted Pacey, before starting a conversation with Jack and Jen. Andie glanced at her lunch and was suddenly not hungry. Shoving her fruit over to Pacey, she opened her mouth to ask how the funeral had gone but at the look on his face decided not to.
Instead, she just sat holding his hand and picking at her food, watching as Pacey did the same with her apples.
---
Pacey got home around seven that evening. He tried to avoid the kitchen but was unable to. His father sat alone once again at the table, the room filled with flowers and food. He was eating some of he left over that the guests had brought and drinking a beer.
"Where ya been?" His voice made Pacey jump, but he wouldn't let his father know that simply his voice had such an effect on him. He looked the older man straight in the eye, and said in what he hoped was a bold voice,
"Nowhere."
The look in John Witter's eyes made Pacey's insides turn to ice. He raised form the table, and Pacey had no doubt that he would have punched him if it weren't for the entrance of Gretchen.
"Hey, Pace," she said in forced casualness, as though she knew what was going on. "Hi, Dad."
"Gretchen," John said stiffly, and returned to the table giving Pacey a hard glare.
Gretchen motioned for Pacey to follow her, and they walked up to his room.
"How'd you know-" Pacey started, but Gretchen cut him off.
"When dad's this angry, he'll hurt almost anyone," she said quietly. "Where have you been all day?"
"I was with my girlfriend," Pacey said, and Gretchen caught sight of a picture on his nightstand. From her place on the bed she reached out and picked it up, studying it carefully.
It was of Pacey and Andie on their three-month anniversary. Andie was holding a bouquet of white roses, being held together by the trunk of a stuffed elephant, which rested in a basket filled with chocolates while Pacey was holding his unopened present, which had turned out to be chocolates as well.
His arm as around her shoulders while hers was around his waist. They were both smiling as though they didn't have a care in the world, and just looking at the picture and remembering that night made Pacey's spirits lift slightly.
"That her?" Gretchen asked, a smile touching her lips.
"Yeah," Pacey nodded, tone slightly lighter.
There was a pause, and then Gretchen kissed him on the cheek and got up. "Night, Pace."
"Night, Gretch." Then she was gone and Pacey lay back on his bed, closing his eyes without even getting undressed or getting under the covers. He lifted the picture of Andie and himself and placed it on the pillow next to him, stroking her face idly with the tip of his finger.
"Night, Andie," he whispered, feeling at peace for the first time that day. She hadn't asked him to explain anything, hadn't asked how the funeral had gone. She had simply stayed with him, trying to act normal but still seeming concerned. And for the first time, it didn't bother him. It felt good to know that she was worried; felt good to know she cared.
He fell asleep clutching the picture, smiling slightly. For the moment his father's cruel words and actions were forgotten. For the moment, the loss of his brother did not seem quite as painful.
For the moment.
Author's Notes:
I'm so sorry for the long wait… major writers block and I was concentrating solely on my Smallville fic. I just finished that, so aside form one shots, this is my main priority at the moment. I'm sorry this part was so slow… there will be both more romance and drama in the next. Oh, and the scene with Jen was originally going to be with Gretchen but I was in a Jen mood that day, so that's why I changed things slightly. If it seems really out of place, tell me and I'll revise this.
Review please, and expect the next part in a couple of weeks… start threatening me if it doesn't appear, okay? Okay.
Lala