"Pacey?"

He was torn. Did he keep his distance like he had been trained, or did he go to her, pick her up, and save her?

"Why are you here? They said they were sending a counselor," she spat, curling tighter into the corner.

He stood where he was. This wasn't the Joey he remembered. There wasn't even a small part of her left. "I am the counselor, Joey. This is what I do."

"Why?"

He shrugged. Before, if he were asked this question, he had an answer. To help, to save, to mentor, to succeed. But with her, pretenses had always been worthless. "I guess when I found out what you'd become, I needed to do something to counteract it."

She eyed him openly. She had lost her shame too many years before to care what he thought of her now. "Well, I'm glad you found your place, Pacey. I know how worthless you would have felt if you hadn't."

"Jo, don't-"

"Shut up, Pacey. This has got to make you feel absolutely perfect. Your childhood best friend slumped in the corner of your father's precinct." Her gaze didn't waver when she saw the surprise register on his face. "Oh, I know who runs this station, Pacey. This isn't my first time here. Dougie has booked me a few times."

"He never-" Pacey trailed off, not sure if he should be angry they hadn't told him, or guilty because he hadn't asked.

Joey laughed, but the sound was harsh, and hurt his ears. It was nothing like he remembered. "I told him not to. And he knew you'd come find me, and I didn't want to be found."

"If that's the case, why are you here?"

"Well," Joey pulled herself into the chair at the table in the middle of the room. There was a pack of cigarettes and a matchbook, with a single match. She lit up, taking a deep drag, and she seemed to relax a little bit. "You see, Pacey, when you lead a life such as the one I have, you come to expect certain things. When you wake up in the morning, or the afternoon if you're doing things right, your first thought isn't 'I have to piss,' it's 'I need a hit.' So, that becomes your purpose. As I'm sure you've probably already guessed, it started with pot, freshman year of college. I started seeing this guy, and he was always so mellow. He didn't worry about papers, deadlines, money, anything. So, I tried it. It helped. I wasn't so uptight about school anymore; it didn't bother me that you were fucking Courtney after kissing me. None of that mattered anymore."

"Jo, Courtney was just a passing phase. She seriously didn't mean much of anything in the end."

"I don't know why you're trying to explain yourself, Pacey. This was all years ago. I don't care if you dumped Courtney, killed her, or married her. I don't care about much of anything anymore. But back to the point of this conversation, it was the crack that messed me up." She took another deep drag on her cigarette. "I wasn't addicted until then."

Pacey watched her. Her hair fell flat against her face and back; its natural shine no longer evident. Her eyes, still a deep chocolate brown, didn't have the same life they used to. And her face...her face was hard, and angry, a permanent scowl etched on her mouth. "Marijuana is a common-"

Joey snorted, disdain evident in the sound. "I don't want your textbook explanations or your pity, Pacey. I'm here because I was raped, and now I'm pregnant. And the worst part of it all, no one believes me. It's hard to convince people your story is plausible when you're a crack whore. But I've moved beyond that. Whoever it was won't get caught, because I don't really care enough about that whole part of it to raise a huge commotion. But I am pregnant, and my child will not have any part of the life I've chosen for myself. So, I came here. I figured there'd be some kind of program they could stick me into." She gestured around the room with her cigarette. "You know, like Crack Whores Anonymous, or something." She winked at him. "Of course, when you're a whore, it really is hard to stay anonymous, ya know?"

Little by little, his heart was rebuilding itself. Seeing her here, broken and unashamed, made him angry. Not with her, not with the system that had allowed her to fall through the gaps time and time again, but with himself. He was angry because he had known she was in trouble, and he hadn't actively tried to help her. He was angry, because no matter how many times his head tried to tell him none of this was his fault, his heart knew that he should have held tighter to her. "Joey, I want to help you."

"Well, that is your job, isn't it?"

"I can't be assigned to your case, we have a history." He set the file folder on the table in front of her. "Unless you sign a waiver."

"Whatever. Where's the waiver? I'd rather have someone who knows me anyway. This caseworker shit really gets on my nerves. Always wanting to know about your past, and if your daddy beat you. Really, Pacey, it's none of their goddamned business what happened to me in the past. Especially if most of it has nothing to do with what's happening right now."

"I understand, Jo. Honestly, I do. The whole process of gaining someone's trust can be tedious, and more often than not, frustrating as hell." He passed a sheet of paper and a pen to her, and waited for her to sign. "Do you have a place to stay?"

"No. That's why I'm here Pacey. If it were just me, it wouldn't matter that I haven't had my own bed in three years, but now I'm responsible for a whole other person, and that means change."

"Are you ready to change?"

"Probably not, but that's not the point. I'm here because while ruining my own life is something I've dealt with, I won't ruin my child's." She put the cigarette out, sliding the pack across the table towards Pacey. "Throw those out for me. I can't afford another pack, and if I keep them, I'll smoke them all."

"Where are you going to stay?" Pacey asked, rummaging through the file folder, slipping easily into the role of concerned counselor.

"I don't know," she snapped. Joey leaned back in her chair, tapping her fingertips rapidly on the tabletop. "Pacey, it's been two days since my last fix, if I get bitchy, you'll have to excuse me."

"You stopped on your own?" He was scribbling frantically on a blank sheet of paper at the back of the file, completely ignoring her outburst.

She watched him a moment before answering his question. It had been four years since she had last seen him, and she was high then. There weren't a lot of moments in the last four years that she remember clearly, but she'd always remember the times when she saw him, or thought of him. "Like I said, if it's just me, it doesn't matter. But there's a baby now. It's not just me anymore." She couldn't take her eyes off of him. The moment he had said her name her world had stopped crumbling, and turned its focus on him. And she hated herself for it.

"Do you want to keep this child?" Pacey asked, finally meeting her eyes.

She wanted to lie, and say no, so he would help her, but when he looked at her like that, with his heart on his sleeve, she'd never been able to lie to him. "Yes."

"This is going to be hard, Joey." He stuck his pen behind his ear, and leaned back in his chair. Taking a deep breath, he folded his arms across his chest. "You'll have to go into detox, and then there will be rehab, followed by counseling."

Her face was still tearstained, her eyes red-rimmed. She knew that she was thinner than she had ever been, and she hadn't eaten in almost four days. But she felt as if she had found the strength that had been taken from her so long ago. "If it saves this baby, I don't care what I have to do. I'd swim to Australia if I had to, Pacey."

His eyes filled with tears, but they wouldn't be shed here. "I'll find you somewhere to stay until I can get you in to the clinic. Do you have anything you need to pick up? Clothes, belongings, anything?"

"Everything I own is with me right now, Pacey."

He nodded. "Let me just take care of a few things, and then I'll be back to get you. Are you hungry?"

"I'm starving."

"I'll send Doug in with something."

"Pacey," she said, grabbing his hand before he could get up from the table. "Thank you. I know that I've been a horrible person, especially to you. Thank you for helping me."

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself. "It's my job, Jo."

And just like that, the light that had begun to fight its way through her shield was put out, and her eyes flickered with something akin to hatred. "That's good to know."

"Joey, I-"

"I want to call Bessie," she said, cutting him off. She didn't look at him now, simply stared at the wall behind his head.

He sighed, accepting defeat. "I'll have someone bring you a phone."