A/N: Thanks again for the reviews. Kel, Im so with you on the Dawson/Jen thing. Unfortunately, though, I cant let them get together in this story if Im going to be true to the finale. Sigh...but I wish that had happened! Thanks for the insight about not getting too caught up in minor inconsistencies. Youre right, its the overall content that matters. Sam, Id have to be stalking your BRAIN, and Im not sure how to do that! ;) But Ill be on the lookout for any more weird links between us. Britgirl, thanks again! Hope you enjoy the rest...
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"Lily's grown like a weed, Dawson," Jen said as he walked her across the street to her car. They had spent almost two hours at the Leerys', Jen catching up with Gale as they sat on the screened porch and watched Dawson's little sister run around the backyard chasing butterflies.
"Tell me about it. Every time I come home, it shocks me how fast she's growing up," Dawson agreed. "I guess kids do that. Funny, though. It doesn't seem like it when you're the one doing the growing."
"Yeah, time has a way of screwing with your perception." Jen glanced over his shoulder at the little blonde girl who was watching them from the side yard of the big white house. She couldn't help thinking of her own child, the one who might look something like this little girl one day in the not- terribly-distant future. She waved at Lily, who smiled and waved back shyly before returning to her butterflies.
"It really is good to see you," Dawson said for about the fifth time since they'd met up on the dock. "I wish we all lived closer. I—I miss you guys." He trailed off, and Jen read something in his eyes, something he probably wished he could hide better.
"I see her from time to time," she said gently. "Our schedules are crazy and out of whack, but we made a pact to meet up and have drinks or dinner once a month. She's doing fine, Dawson."
He met Jen's gaze steadily. "Is it that obvious?"
"To me, yes," Jen answered honestly. "But don't worry. I'm highly intuitive." She winked at him and he forced a smile, but there were still shadows in his eyes. Joey shadows, Jen thought. How familiar she'd become with Joey shadows over the years. Between Pacey and Dawson, she knew the look like the back of her hand. It always made her feel sad for them. For all three of them, Joey included. Maybe Joey most of all.
"She's still with that guy, what's his name?" Dawson seemed to be trying very hard to keep his tone light and casual.
"Chris. They have a place in Manhattan, a view of the city and all. It's really nice."
Dawson nodded. "That's right, Chris. Well, good. I mean, I'm glad she's okay. Last time we talked, she seemed sort of ... I don't know, distant. I was worried about her."
"I seem to recall her saying the same thing about you, champ," Jen said. "Maybe you should try again. It's been a while. It's been too long, if you don't mind my saying so." She reached for his hand and squeezed it comfortingly. They were silent for a few moments.
At last, Dawson cleared his throat a little too loudly. "I'm glad you came by, Jen. But this isn't it; I'll see you later, right?" he said, holding the car door open for her.
"You better believe it. If you leave town without saying goodbye to me, I swear I'll hunt you down..."
"I wouldn't dare."
He waved once more and headed back across the street, stopping to scoop Lily up and swing her around in his arms. Jen smiled as she started the car and pulled away from the curb.
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Memories on every corner. Everything she passed on her way back through town evoked some feeling, some encounter, some heartache or joy or meaningless triviality that had occurred here. All-but-forgotten moments rushed in on her from all directions. Even the sky seemed unique to this place, like she hadn't seen the same sky blanketing Boston or New York, her homes since she had left here, because the impeccable stretch of deepest blue that towered over her now was Capeside's own sky.
She passed the Potter B&B and thought of Joey, her closest girlfriend, in fact the only girl she had really opened up to in her entire life. They lived in the same city now—but worlds apart. It was true, what she had told Dawson; she and Joey met for drinks once a month and caught up on each other's lives. But most of those nights were full of what they didn't say, names they refused to speak, reminiscences they held back ... because the past could hurt, especially after a drink or two, and because they were busy moving on: new city, new jobs, new loves, new identities. Talking about Dawson or Pacey or Andie or even Jack would just set them back, perhaps even expose some painstakingly buried regret—and that would be risking far too much.
So, instead, the old friends spoke like new ones, by some understood agreement keeping Capeside and all the people they shared out of their minds and off their lips—well, most of the time.
Once, several months ago, after three glasses of wine at their favorite meeting spot (a bar that wasn't too loud or too "New York" they jokingly agreed), Joey had without warning broken their unwritten rule: "Dawson called me last week."
Jen swallowed her mouthful of Merlot too fast and coughed long and hard. When she recovered, Joey was looking at her steadily across the table, her brown eyes sad and deep.
"How long has it been?" Jen managed.
"Almost a year," Joey said immediately. "Chris answered the phone." She absentmindedly twisted a strand of her dark hair around her fingers as she spoke. It was a Joeyism that Jen hadn't seen in a long time. "It was so weird, Jen. I never thought it could be that weird to be talking to Dawson Leery."
"What did he say?"
"Nothing. I mean, we talked about a lot of things; his show and my job, the new promotion. He asked about you. But there was nothing under the surface. It was like talking to someone you hardly know." She paused reflectively. "No, it was worse than that. It was like talking to someone you used to know."
Jen didn't answer, not knowing what to say, exactly. "I'm sorry," she finally managed in a near-whisper. "That must have been very hard."
Joey chewed on her bottom lip, staring out the window. "It's funny how you can forget that you miss someone until you hear their voice again." ...
Now, driving toward Jack's house, Jen remembered how sad and lost and young Joey had looked as she recounted the first conversation she'd had in almost a year with her oldest friend. Dawson had looked the same way just now, when Jen brought up Joey's name.
And then there was Pacey, she thought as she drove past the Icehouse, which he now owned. Sweet, all-too-often-misunderstood Pacey Witter, whose heart belonged to Joey and who belonged with Joey. Jen had no doubt about that. Those two were meant to be together if any two people ever had been. She could never tell Dawson that, but she felt it, and she always had. She'd been rooting for Pacey and Joey for years.
Her cell phone rang as she was contemplating pulling into the Icehouse parking lot and seeing if Pacey was at work. She fished it out of her purse and answered it.
"Have you skipped town, been kidnapped, or what?" Jack's voice asked.
"Chill out, Jackers, I'm on my way back," she said. "I just had a lovely encounter with a dear old friend."
"Damn it. Did you run into Dawson?"
"As a matter of fact, I did; why do you ask? Is Dawson my surprise? 'Cause, I've got to tell you, Jack, you're going to have to do better than that," she said teasingly.
"No comment. I'll see you in a few."
She rolled her window down, enjoying the fresh, salty sea breeze as she had driving in that morning. She realized that she felt different than she had in a long time. She felt alive. She felt calm. She felt—almost—happy. It suddenly occurred to her that she was smiling.
Then her phone rang again. She answered with a smile on her lips, expecting to hear Jack's voice. "What now?" she asked, amused.
"Jen? Where are you?"
At the sound of that voice, her heart sank as if suddenly remembering that it was broken.
It was David.
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"Lily's grown like a weed, Dawson," Jen said as he walked her across the street to her car. They had spent almost two hours at the Leerys', Jen catching up with Gale as they sat on the screened porch and watched Dawson's little sister run around the backyard chasing butterflies.
"Tell me about it. Every time I come home, it shocks me how fast she's growing up," Dawson agreed. "I guess kids do that. Funny, though. It doesn't seem like it when you're the one doing the growing."
"Yeah, time has a way of screwing with your perception." Jen glanced over his shoulder at the little blonde girl who was watching them from the side yard of the big white house. She couldn't help thinking of her own child, the one who might look something like this little girl one day in the not- terribly-distant future. She waved at Lily, who smiled and waved back shyly before returning to her butterflies.
"It really is good to see you," Dawson said for about the fifth time since they'd met up on the dock. "I wish we all lived closer. I—I miss you guys." He trailed off, and Jen read something in his eyes, something he probably wished he could hide better.
"I see her from time to time," she said gently. "Our schedules are crazy and out of whack, but we made a pact to meet up and have drinks or dinner once a month. She's doing fine, Dawson."
He met Jen's gaze steadily. "Is it that obvious?"
"To me, yes," Jen answered honestly. "But don't worry. I'm highly intuitive." She winked at him and he forced a smile, but there were still shadows in his eyes. Joey shadows, Jen thought. How familiar she'd become with Joey shadows over the years. Between Pacey and Dawson, she knew the look like the back of her hand. It always made her feel sad for them. For all three of them, Joey included. Maybe Joey most of all.
"She's still with that guy, what's his name?" Dawson seemed to be trying very hard to keep his tone light and casual.
"Chris. They have a place in Manhattan, a view of the city and all. It's really nice."
Dawson nodded. "That's right, Chris. Well, good. I mean, I'm glad she's okay. Last time we talked, she seemed sort of ... I don't know, distant. I was worried about her."
"I seem to recall her saying the same thing about you, champ," Jen said. "Maybe you should try again. It's been a while. It's been too long, if you don't mind my saying so." She reached for his hand and squeezed it comfortingly. They were silent for a few moments.
At last, Dawson cleared his throat a little too loudly. "I'm glad you came by, Jen. But this isn't it; I'll see you later, right?" he said, holding the car door open for her.
"You better believe it. If you leave town without saying goodbye to me, I swear I'll hunt you down..."
"I wouldn't dare."
He waved once more and headed back across the street, stopping to scoop Lily up and swing her around in his arms. Jen smiled as she started the car and pulled away from the curb.
----------------------------------------
Memories on every corner. Everything she passed on her way back through town evoked some feeling, some encounter, some heartache or joy or meaningless triviality that had occurred here. All-but-forgotten moments rushed in on her from all directions. Even the sky seemed unique to this place, like she hadn't seen the same sky blanketing Boston or New York, her homes since she had left here, because the impeccable stretch of deepest blue that towered over her now was Capeside's own sky.
She passed the Potter B&B and thought of Joey, her closest girlfriend, in fact the only girl she had really opened up to in her entire life. They lived in the same city now—but worlds apart. It was true, what she had told Dawson; she and Joey met for drinks once a month and caught up on each other's lives. But most of those nights were full of what they didn't say, names they refused to speak, reminiscences they held back ... because the past could hurt, especially after a drink or two, and because they were busy moving on: new city, new jobs, new loves, new identities. Talking about Dawson or Pacey or Andie or even Jack would just set them back, perhaps even expose some painstakingly buried regret—and that would be risking far too much.
So, instead, the old friends spoke like new ones, by some understood agreement keeping Capeside and all the people they shared out of their minds and off their lips—well, most of the time.
Once, several months ago, after three glasses of wine at their favorite meeting spot (a bar that wasn't too loud or too "New York" they jokingly agreed), Joey had without warning broken their unwritten rule: "Dawson called me last week."
Jen swallowed her mouthful of Merlot too fast and coughed long and hard. When she recovered, Joey was looking at her steadily across the table, her brown eyes sad and deep.
"How long has it been?" Jen managed.
"Almost a year," Joey said immediately. "Chris answered the phone." She absentmindedly twisted a strand of her dark hair around her fingers as she spoke. It was a Joeyism that Jen hadn't seen in a long time. "It was so weird, Jen. I never thought it could be that weird to be talking to Dawson Leery."
"What did he say?"
"Nothing. I mean, we talked about a lot of things; his show and my job, the new promotion. He asked about you. But there was nothing under the surface. It was like talking to someone you hardly know." She paused reflectively. "No, it was worse than that. It was like talking to someone you used to know."
Jen didn't answer, not knowing what to say, exactly. "I'm sorry," she finally managed in a near-whisper. "That must have been very hard."
Joey chewed on her bottom lip, staring out the window. "It's funny how you can forget that you miss someone until you hear their voice again." ...
Now, driving toward Jack's house, Jen remembered how sad and lost and young Joey had looked as she recounted the first conversation she'd had in almost a year with her oldest friend. Dawson had looked the same way just now, when Jen brought up Joey's name.
And then there was Pacey, she thought as she drove past the Icehouse, which he now owned. Sweet, all-too-often-misunderstood Pacey Witter, whose heart belonged to Joey and who belonged with Joey. Jen had no doubt about that. Those two were meant to be together if any two people ever had been. She could never tell Dawson that, but she felt it, and she always had. She'd been rooting for Pacey and Joey for years.
Her cell phone rang as she was contemplating pulling into the Icehouse parking lot and seeing if Pacey was at work. She fished it out of her purse and answered it.
"Have you skipped town, been kidnapped, or what?" Jack's voice asked.
"Chill out, Jackers, I'm on my way back," she said. "I just had a lovely encounter with a dear old friend."
"Damn it. Did you run into Dawson?"
"As a matter of fact, I did; why do you ask? Is Dawson my surprise? 'Cause, I've got to tell you, Jack, you're going to have to do better than that," she said teasingly.
"No comment. I'll see you in a few."
She rolled her window down, enjoying the fresh, salty sea breeze as she had driving in that morning. She realized that she felt different than she had in a long time. She felt alive. She felt calm. She felt—almost—happy. It suddenly occurred to her that she was smiling.
Then her phone rang again. She answered with a smile on her lips, expecting to hear Jack's voice. "What now?" she asked, amused.
"Jen? Where are you?"
At the sound of that voice, her heart sank as if suddenly remembering that it was broken.
It was David.
