Author's Note: I'm undergoing a massive project here, and the most important thing you, the reader, should know is that I need all the help I can get. I am a die-hard Creeker. From start to finish, I intend to own the entire series on DVD, and track down all of those obscure snippets of songs, but…the bottom line is Seasons 5 and 6 had moments of unforgivable suckage. Regardless of the relationship you were cheering for in the end, the methods the writers used for those ends to be achieved were occasionally horrendous. Hence, I am re-writing 5 and 6, with Kevin Williamson's ending in mind. Some things must happen, like Mitch's death (although death by ice cream was weak), but I need your input on the main issues. Should Season 5 be geared toward the rekindling of Dawson and Joey (as an official item for an entire year like we were hoping for in Season 2), or should Season 5 be about a mature Dawson-Jen relationship, not just a Dawson-and-Jen-get-it-on-because-they-need-comfort relationship? And Pacey and Audrey? Any thoughts? I was hoping for an actual connection between the two, if it is decided they will date. Will the Pacey and Joey history be swept under the rug until two episodes in Season 6? No. Do I think that Pacey and Audrey should be all about sex until Audrey decides to become Second-Season Jen? No. If Pacey has a relationship other than one with Joey, I want it to be genuine. What about Eddie? Creepy, pervy Prof Wilder? Bring on the ideas! FYI: I am a P/Jer. I have been a P/Jer since Season One, BUT...this re-write is not about smearing Dawson and Joey. If Dawson is so important to Joey, I want the audience to have a reason to love Dawson just as much as she does. We have been told from day one that Dawson is Joey's best friend. I'd like Dawson to be given a chance to prove that Joey's praises are deserved.
Disclaimer: Dawson's Creek is the property of Kevin Williamson, Columbia TriStar, the WB and all of his other affiliates.
Easier Reading: The lines in italics represent a voiceover. This voiceover is Joey.
Dedication: I would like to dedicate this to Abigail Snow, who believes that I am brilliant. Your encouragement means the world to me. You Rock!
EPISODE ONE:
EVOLUTIONS
Joey Potter rested comfortably on her stomach in the very position she had been occupying for the past seventeen years. She studied her surroundings. This room had provided her with more solace than any other place in the world. Her best friend, Dawson Leery, sat beside her on the bed, occasionally throwing glances her way. His focus…her lips. Lips which she had recently allowed him to kiss. The walls, decorated with black-and-white photographs of her group of friends and a symbolic John Lennon poster, seemed as jumbled as her thoughts.
Once upon a time, his kiss would have meant a terrifying leap of faith. Now, after a turbulent romance with Dawson's best friend, a long-anticipated graduation from Capeside High, and the impending farewell to childhood, Joey realized that she had failed to escape the Vortex of Sameness that was her life. Would moving forward with Dawson ever really mean moving forward?
"This is your solution Dawson? This is your only conceivable means of tackling the…the…herd of elephants in the room?" Joey shrieked, gesticulating so wildly, she nearly tumbled off the bed.
"Herd, Jo?" Dawson's eyebrows rose in disbelief.
"Do elephants flock?" Joey hadn't meant to snap at him, but his sudden capacity for being daft seemed so unfortunately timed.
"The monumental milestone you have now reached in your young life was inevitably destined to decimate my metaphorical prowess. Besides, what is more gargantuan of stature than an elephant? Logic dictates the correct response would be multiple elephants." Her tone was placating, she hoped. Gentle explanations were the best course of action when attempting to control any discussion with her best friend.
"When did these multiple elephants decide that invading my room would be a pragmatic endeavor?" Clearly his humor had returned. Joey resisted the urge to heave a sigh of relief. Dawson's life-long ambitions of conquering Hollywood were scheduled to begin in two day's time, and he had yet to open a suitcase.
"Probably about same time you decided watching E.T. in lieu of packing for the day after tomorrow would be a pragmatic endeavor. I suppose I've been laboring under the misapprehension that the Hollywood-bound disdain procrastination. Whatever happened to the never-let-anything-rest Dawson of Yore?"
"Yore Dawson has concluded that touching a suitcase symbolizes his favorite Boston-bound brunette's decision to row her life in a direction that no longer leads to his dock. Elephants and our current, Speilbergian stroll down Memory Lane aside, Jo, we're sharing a milestone here. Little Joey Potter's final moments in Capeside. As such, your adoring fans are clamoring to know…is there life for a certain Potter sister after Dawson Leery?" His eyes bore accusingly into hers, and she steeled her resolve to keep from flinching (outwardly at least). Their co-dependency upon subtext was particularly suffocating at moments like these.
His fear that she would once again transform herself into Pacey Witter's girlfriend the instant his plane landed in California was excruciatingly evident. Instead of bearing her wounded soul to him (Pacey had abandoned her without a word after all), she held him to her, soothing him with a whispered, "Said adoring fans can rest assured that any life devoid of Dawson Leery will never be part of my future. You've always given me a dock to row home to, no matter the respective directions our lives have taken. The only reason I've been able to row my girl-from-the-wrong-side-of-the-creek-self anywhere but mediocrity was you, Dawson Leery."
"Was that the message behind the kiss we've been neglecting to mention?" His entire form tensed. Joey's stomach plummeted to her toes. And here they were again. The meaning behind the kiss. She'd arrived once again at De ja Screwed.
She cradled his stubbled cheek in her hands, lifting his face to her's. "We don't have to deconstruct everything right now, Dawson. Even Freud would have respected the need for opening credits."
Jen walked along the docks, marveling at the early-evening hustle and bustle. This certainly paled in comparison to New York, but, as Drue Valentine had advised her not so long ago, Boston certainly was an "up and coming town."
And then, like a cheesy teen romance flick, there he was! Pacey (clad in his patented Hawaiian shirt) bounding down the gangplank, luggage in tow. He unceremoniously dropped his burden, swept her into his arms, and twirled her haphazardly about. Placing her once more on solid ground, he met her merry gaze.
"The lovely Miss Lindley! At long last! My mail-order slave has arrived." Dramatically, he placed the luggage in her hands.
"Refrain from waving a Confederate flag and reminding me why it is that you and I never achieved couple status, or I will be forced to use MY whip on YOUR sorry hide." Her friendly threats failed to mask the venom in her eyes.
"We tried coupledom as I recall, oh most forgiving and beloved of Jennifers."
"Pace, please keep in mind that beneath the pleasure I derive from your suffering resides a desire to protect you from yourself. NEVER remind a girl of her foray into witchcraft when she's already got a multitude of sins under her belt; one of which shall, I fear, very shortly come back to bite me in the ass. We have to discuss that tiny promise I made to you. That's what this false, masculine bravado you're forcing down my throat is about, isn't it? You're having doubts about whether or not I would fulfill my end of the bargain. Joey does not know that your final port of call is within walking distance of Worthington."
Casually, he draped an arm over her shoulders, smirking slightly as the tension in her jaw gradually melted. "Lindley, you of all people should understand why it is difficult for me to have much faith in humanity these days. That isn't to say you are not one of the only good people in my universe right now."
"No, Pace! I'm not good people. For all my delusions of evolving, I'm still that girl who spilled the beans to Dawson about you and Joey. Not to mention the one who sent Andie spiraling down the ecstacy-enduced path to…" His jaw clenched instantly, blood boiling, eyes brimming with as yet unshed tears at the mere mention of one of the most horrible moments in his life. Jen trembled violently, waiting for his expected verbal assault upon her unintentional callousness. The highly-anticipated assault never befell her; however. Not that she expected anything less from Pacey. Dawson had idealism, idealism in spades, but Pacey had that rare kind of class which demanded admiration. Assured that she had passed the marginally hellish portion of their discourse, she forged ahead with the necessary unpleasantries.
"I had qualms about participating in your master plan to keep Joey in the dark about your location, but I agreed because…"
"Dawson." There it was again. That ever-present gnawing in his gut, which inexplicably manifested itself whenever his former best-friend's name had the potential to arise in polite conversation. He wasn't completely certain about how long this gut-gnawing had been a factor in his life, but his subconscious seemed determine to convince him that it had appeared long before Joey had chosen him over Dawson.
"You agreed because of Dawson and his impending farewell to Capeside. Heaven forbid that if Joey knew where I was she might be a smidgeon less enraptured by s I-finally-achieved-my-dreams monologues! Betty and Veronica are defined by their codependence on Archie, while Jughead lounges in the background stuffing his face and patiently awaiting the opportune moment to insert a quip in the fray."
"You're so much more to ALL of us than a ravenous sub-character, Pacey. Of course, your ensemble does scream "Jughead." I refuse to let you continue to classify yourself as the despised underdog when you still mean everything to her. She wants you to have all the happiness that you deserve. Joey worries about you all the time, but she won't know that her worries are unfounded until you show her, IN PERSON, that you are okay," Jen snarled with a finality that somehow alarmed him
Jen had accepted the Joey Situation before he had realized that Joey could someday become a Situation. She had been his confidant, his encouragement, but she'd never made him feel that he and Joey were a lost cause before. Seeing Joey would confirm what he had known since their summer together aboard the True Love. She had wasted her time and her affections on him. He had fulfilled all of Dawson's prophecies for their relationship. And now, after everything he had gained and lost since Junior Year, Jen, the only person he had been able to depend on, was commanding that he officially throw in the towel and give Joey closure.
"I'll consider giving in to those feminine wiles, Lindley, as long as you promise me that you will cease referring to yourself as the girl who messes up everyone else's life. You're a far, far better leading lady and permanent member of the inner circle than all of the Abby Morgans and other instigators who have graced Capeside with their presence." Grinning broadly, Jen took half of his luggage, and, side-by-side, they left Pacey's summer job behind.
Jack was sorting boxes when Grams entered, gasping for breath. Clearly on the verge of a nervous breakdown, she collapsed against the front door.
"I don't know why I let you children talk me into this. I should never have listened to Jennifer. I should have moved into the retirement community when I had the chance. After attempting to familiarize myself with this neighborhood, the prospect of BINGO Night certainly seems appealing." Jack abandoned his task and went to offer her a shoulder to lean on.
"We researched the area thoroughly Grams. All of us together, remember? We've found the street with the church two blocks away and the children playing in the front yards and the neighbors peering over each others' fence," Jack calmly reminded her, but he couldn't resist a little teasing to lighten the mood. "A chance sighting of a single skinhead with triple sixes tattooed all over his body shouldn't shake your resolve."
"There were no "skinheads," Dear Boy," Grams hissed back, completely appalled by the notion. "I discovered an adult video store."
"Well," Jack couldn't resist a snort, "that certainly wasn't in the realtor's brochure."
"They just don't make pictures like they used to. I supposed "adult" would entail stimulation for the mind, not a gratuitous display of the human form. I am no longer incapable of using the term penis, particularly in a medical context, but no medical expert could possibly condone the content of that… FILTH." Jack would have given anything for Jen to have been present for this conversation. Grams may have become capable of "using the term penis," but it was a priceless moment every time she did.
"Medicine has advanced since your days as a nurse, Grams." He winked coyly at his distraught companion.
"Has it advanced so much that we are expected to embrace the concept that nude contortionists are some sort of miracle?" Her shoulders slumped in defeat.
"The Lord works in mysterious ways, Grams." Jack gave her a quick peck on the cheek before returning to sorting the boxes.
Mitch was sitting on the couch in the living room, Lily resting against his chest, when Gale wrapped her arms around his neck.
"What are you thinking, Mitch?" He had that faraway look in his eyes again, which meant he was either thinking about Dawson or concocting another far-fetched scheme to "enhance" the appeal of their restaurant. If the latter were the case, she sincerely hoped it would be more ingenious than his attempt to make bubble gum on the kitchen stove.
"Do you think it will be easier the second time around?" Mitch abruptly snapped out of his reverie.
Gale joined him on the couch. "Sending one of our babies out into the world?" Mitch kissed Lily on the nose, as Gale's eyes began to water. "Not even a little bit."
"I've been sitting her for two hours, and I can't seem to convince myself to want this to be simple."
"You always did complicate matters." Gale placed a reassuring hand atop his knee.
"Our son will never truly feel like he belongs in our home anymore. From now on, any parental advice we give him may be something he has already realized on his own. Yet, feeling completely detached from my son's life has probably been one of my better experiences."
"It just means we've done right enough by Dawson for him to be able detach, Mitch."
"I think I'd feel better if he didn't want to detach all the way to California." The admittance was hesitant, but Gale was pleased that beneath the philosophical, Father-Knows-Best speech, he was honest about how much Dawson's leaving hurt.
They were still there, together on his bed. Exactly where they had been for what, at times, felt like forever. She shifted slightly to face him. Beside her, Dawson turned simultaneously, as if he had instinctively known that something was bothering her.
"Dawson, have you ever been concerned by the amount of time you and I spend in bed together?"
"Concerned two teens in their sexual prime actually take advantage of the chance to share a bed…platonically? We'd probably spend an equivalent amount of time on the floor if we didn't each have a subconscious need for pillows." He nudged her playfully in the ribs.
"Dawson, I don't think you comprehend exactly what it is we are doing here." Joey chewed self-consciously on her bottom lip. Suppose, if only for a moment, that one day he would understand the meaning behind her words? Suppose that hell froze over and he would be able to read between the lines.
"Joey, you and I have already proven that we are the ideal teenaged-duo. Just for tonight, let's shelve any concern about how other soul mates interact and focus on us. We have stopped time. We are simply Dawson and Joey, watching E.T., Spielberg's homage to best friends and a cinematic representation of the way I feel about you. That's why I want you to stay here, Jo. Stay with me? I can't go to sleep unless I know that you…" His pleading warmed her heart. They hadn't had a tranquil, hormone-less sleep-over in years.
Tenderly, she took his hand in hers. "Dawson, I'll be right here."
Jen, Jack and Grams huddled around the table, staring solemnly around the sparsely-furnished kitchen. In fact, the table was the lone piece of furniture in the room.
"Jackers, the next time I make any disparaging remark regarding knitting, accidental or otherwise, remind me of that time I reduced my two favorite people in the entire world to creating furniture and entertainment from boxes."
"That's enough, Child! You have reduced Jack and me to nothing. If anything, you have helped us to soar."
"There's a gas leak, isn't there?" Jack conspiratorially whispered. "Unbeknownst to us all we are, even as we speak, inhaling noxious fumes, and before you know it we'll all be clasping hands and singing Kumbiyah."
Jen assumed her typical preparing-to-do-battle-with-Grams stance and remarked slyly, "God help us all if you've designated me the wind beneath your wings, Grams."
"God has helped us indeed," Grams proclaimed with the passionate conviction that never ceased to amaze. "Jenniffah, I have never been more proud of you than in the moment when you convinced me to sell the house. You were the poised, beautiful, elegant, confident, intelligent young woman who I have always seen in you, but who you have always blinded yourself to. Will I miss the person I was in Capeside? Certainly. Do I regret for even an instant the opportunity to reinvent myself along with my two favorite people in the entire world? Of course not."
"And Jack," she ruffled his hair adoringly. "I don't want you to silently stew over your preposterous theories about sending Jennifer down this path to robbing me of my home in Capeside. What you did for me by pushing my Jennifer into the collegiate masses means more to me than you will ever know."
They promptly rose from their boxes and raced to embrace Grams, who declared exuberantly, "Now that that's all settled; who's interested in singing a rousing round of Kumbiyah?"
Sunlight filtered through the window, causing Joey to stir. Dawson (duffle bag slung over his shoulder) studied his slumbering best friend. He brushed the stray tendrils of hair from her eyes, gently kissing her cheek, and, with a final, longing look at Joey, he departed through the window. He was in the process of dismounting from the bottom rung of the ladder when Joey finally rose. Noticing his absence, she wandered toward the open window. Smiling nostalgically, she spied Dawson (duffle bag still over his shoulder) running in the direction of her boat. Joey returned to bed, and nestled beneath the sheets on Dawson's side. She lay on her back, staring intently at the ceiling, just as Dawson had ever since the first time she spent the night.
I spend a vast majority of my time wondering if it ever gets any easier, this thing called evolution. This horrendous nightmare we call change.
Mitch and Gale huddled together on the couch, Lily on Mitch's lap, with photos of Dawson spread out between them.
Charles Darwin has implied that humans originated from monkeys and apes. If this were the case, why do the monkeys and apes exist alongside their "evolved" forms? That terrified version of me who spent fifteen years believing that Dawson Leery, my best friend from across the creek, was the love of my life, and that the sun rose and set on his shoulders, she still exists. She was thriving today when that boy potentially walked out of my life forever.
Dawson (duffle bag still over his shoulder) stood before the "Potter B & B" sign.
Are the memories of our days on the creek powerful enough to bind us together, despite the distance? Has the impact we've had on each others' lives thus far been as lasting as we currently claim?
Grams, Jack, and Jen clasp hands during their "rousing round of Kumbiyah."
That terrified version of me plagues my mind, but my heart; my heart is becoming steadfast. My heart is the truly "evolved" form in this scenario. Split between the innocent adoration of a dreamer who has molded me and the fondness of a sea creature from the deep who…My heart must prepare for that resounding yes or no to the affections of both.
Pacey perched gloomily on the edge of the dock, book in hand. Jen had dropped him and his belongings off at "suitable lodgings for the seafaring sort," but he couldn't bear to remain after convincing himself that she was well on her way back to Grams and Jack. Instinctively, his feet led him back to his summer-quarters on the yacht. The captain and his fellow crewmen had nodded their heads knowingly in his direction, but had remained silent about his decision to avoid being a "landlubber" for a little bit longer.
Sullenly, he perused the dog-eared pages. The volume had become tattered by numerous adventures over the course of his days aboard the True Love. Gingerly, he traced his thumb across the title "The Little Mermaid," allowing himself, for the first time since graduation, to become consumed by memories of her.
