God, the place hadn't changed a bit. She didn't know what she had expected-- after all, she hadn't been gone for a lifetime, even though it seemed that way. She drove through the center of town with the window down, inhaling deeply of the salty fresh air that embodied some of the best years of her youth. It smelled like home. She smiled to herself.

Jack's place was on the creek; a beautiful little Colonial-style two-story that his father had helped him buy when he found out that Jack was settling down in Capeside for good. No member of the McPhee clan would go without, even if said McPhee had opted for a lifestyle that wasn't exactly pleasing to McPhee senior. Jack's dad made sure that he and Andie were taken care of in style. There was something to be said for that kind of paternal responsibility.

Jack was on his way out to greet her before she had put the car in park. Beaming, he opened the driver's side door and pulled her up and into a suffocating bear hug. She laughed with her face pressed into his chest.

"Is someone happy to see me?" she asked, her voice muffled.

"Nah, I thought you were someone else," he responded, planting a kiss on top of her head and then stepping back to study her face. "Well, you've got the glow."

"The glow?"

"The pregnant woman glow."

"That's not a glow, Jack. That's sweat. It's hot as hell in this town. Not to mention that I've been driving for hours while constantly fighting the urge to pull over and puke onto the side of the road. And I'm proud to say I won the battle."

"Thanks for that." Jack reached out and placed a gentle hand on Jen's abdomen. "Hi, baby," he said sweetly. "I'm your Uncle Jack. How's it going in there?"

"She's a little peeved at me. I think she wants coffee. The nausea is her protest of my caffeine-boycott."

"She? How are you so sure it's a she?"

"Please. A mother knows." She gave him a searching look. "So, where's the boyfriend?"

Jack grunted and rolled his eyes, obviously annoyed at the situation. "Careful what you say, Jen. We wouldn't want THAT to get around. A gay sheriff in Capeside might just kick off Armageddon."

Jen pursed her lips. "Nothing's changed in that arena yet, huh?"

"Not a bit. I feel like a criminal when we're together. It's really getting ridiculous."

"Give him time, Jack. He loves you; he'll come around."

"I just hope it's soon. It's bad for the ego, this hiding out in the closet thing. I thought I'd seen the last of that in high school." He sighed, then seemed to shake free of his thoughts. He took Jen's bag from the backseat and motioned for her to go inside. "Let's get you out of this heat, mommy."

They settled in the big gourmet kitchen with tall glasses of lemonade, Jen on a barstool, Jack perched on the counter with his legs dangling off the side. They chatted for a while about nothing in particular; her new job, the kids in his summer school class, old times. Finally, the silence stole over them, and he looked at her over the rim of his glass.

"Do you want to talk about it? Do you want to talk about him?"

Not meeting his eyes, Jen smiled bitterly. "Him. You never say his name, do you realize that?"

"Sorry."

"Don't be. I'm not wild about saying his name right now either." She took a long sip of lemonade, then set the glass down on the counter with a heavy clunk. "Have I always been so damn stupid?" she demanded out of the blue, her voice suddenly rough with anger.

Jack was taken off-guard. "What?"

"I mean it. Have I always been blind and clueless and ignorant when it comes to relationships? Because I should have seen this coming, Jack, and I didn't, and that pisses me off. I didn't expect him to react the way he did, like a scared kid. Backing away from me like I'm a leper hell-bent on spreading my disease to the masses. 'Procedure,' for God's sake! That still boils my blood; how dare he?!"

"You're not stupid, Jen. We're all a little blind when it comes to people we care about."

"But why do I care about him? Why does it bother me so much that he proved to be a complete jackass with no soul? Why does it hurt so much?" Taking a deep, shuddery breath, she looked up at Jack with tears in her eyes.

Jack boosted himself off the counter and put his arms around his friend. "Why? Because, right or wrong, good or bad, you love him. And you love this baby already, and you were taking it for granted that he would, too."

"Ha. That was the stupid part."

"No, that's what you deserved. That's the least the baby deserves. But you know what, it doesn't even matter, Jen, because you've got us. You've got me, and Grams, and Pacey, and Joey, and Dawson, and Andie, and your mom, and even Doug. And the baby...he or—sorry, SHE—will have us, too. You'll never be alone in this. Do you hear me? Forget the guy who provided the sperm; that's insignificant. Your family is here for you and for your baby."

Jen smiled through her tears and brushed a few stray strands of blond hair out of her eyes. "You're really good at that, you know. The pep talks. You're the best pep talker I know."

"I do my best." He clapped his hands together. "But enough of this. We've got a reunion to plan. We've got to celebrate the return of Capeside's own Jen Lindley."

"Great. Nobody even lives here anymore."

"Are you kidding me? We've got Pacey Witter, and Pacey Witter's the life of this little hellhole. And if you're lucky, I might be able to scrounge up a few more people who'd love to see your face again."

Jen laughed. "Okay, well, while you do that, I'm going to go unpack and shower."

"Great, you know where everything is. Do me a favor, if you happen to open the guest room closet and see Doug hiding in there, pull him out for me."

"Promise."

Jen went upstairs and sat down on the bed in the guest bedroom, sighing wearily. The anger that had welled up without warning when she thought about David and what he had done to her, to them, was still throbbing dully in her heart. Jack had eased her most immediate and obvious fears, he had always been able to do that, but he couldn't cool the anger. And she sensed that there was something underneath the anger; that somewhere inside her lurked some corrosive force that was deeper, more dangerous, more painful, coiled up and ready to strike if she made the wrong move. She wasn't ready to explore that yet. Not yet.

She picked up a silver-framed photograph that sat on the nightstand. There they were again, the sixteen-year-olds they had been, arms around each other, wide, bright smiles belying the traumas they had each suffered and those that lay ahead. Jen ran a finger across her own face in the picture, feeling so distant from that girl, that sad, scared, mixed-up woman-child who was struggling to find her way, who never seemed to belong but took solace from and found love in her misfit status just the same.

She set the photo back on its stand and crossed her arms around her middle, hugging herself. This place had healed her once. Maybe it could work its magic one more time.