June 4. At just past seven-thirty in the evening, the telephone rang. Wondering if it could be Joey calling from the Providence station, Pacey walked out of the living room and into the kitchen. He lifted the receiver off the wall and answered.

"Hello?"

"Hey, I'm in a little trouble and need you to come pick me up." The words came out slowly and slurred.

"Drue?" Pacey almost couldn't believe it. "Are you drunk at that bar?"

"Of course, where else am I going to get drunk?" he tittered. "Come on, man. Help me out. I'm in a jam. I'll explain when you get here. They're saying they're gonna call the cops. I tried to call my mom, but she didn't answer. There's no one else I can call. I got no one else."

He cursed into the phone. "I have to pick Joey up at nine. I don't have time to deal with your crap."

"Please, Witter? Just help me out. Please?"

Pacey closed his eyes and tried to steel himself. "Jesus Christ, I'll be there in a few minutes." He slammed the phone back on the wall, grabbed his keys, and jumped in the Jeep. As he navigated his mom's vehicle through the town's streets, he wondered what the hell kind of mess Drue Valentine had managed to get himself into.

He parked on the street and scanned the storefronts for the Big Ace Saloon. An unassuming blue neon sign told him he'd found the right place. Pacey walked over and stepped in through the door. His skin crawled as he entered. A shudder ran the length of his body. He didn't want to be there. He just wanted to grab Drue and leave, but first he had to find the asshole.

He stepped around two women having a conversation. The music had fallen and a few patrons stood up from their tables and left cash under empty glasses. The place was mostly empty, which wasn't exactly surprising for a Monday evening. He caught snatches of conversation, a little bit of laughter, and a voice softly singing along to the song that had just started up.

Then he spotted Drue seated at the bar with his head in his hands. Pacey walked directly over and sat on a stool beside him. "Mind telling me why am I here again?" he growled at the drunken boy.

Drue looked up with glassy eyes. "I can't drive myself home like this. And I don't have any money left for a taxi."

"You couldn't get one of your friends here to cover you? Your buddy owns the place, right? Mack, you said his name was? The loyal customer? Aren't you supposed to be his big connection around town?"

"I'm having trouble thinking straight," Drue complained as he tilted an empty glass and frowned at the sip of brown liquid at the bottom. "Besides, I have no real friends."

"Spare me the pity party," Pacey chastised him. "You expect me to believe you've been in here… what? Drowning your sorrows? You having a crisis of conscience or something? Is it possible you might actually feel guilty over the lives you've potentially ruined with your extracurricular activities? You know, I still haven't forgotten what happened to Andie because of you." Then he looked up and saw the bartender standing there waiting expectantly.

"Are you going to carry your friend home?" the man asked with mild annoyance. "Before he causes anymore trouble in here?"

Drue interrupted. "You might have to literally carry me. I think I'll need to sober up a little before I can walk and remain upright."

Pacey heaved a frustrated sigh. "How do you not have enough money left over to call a taxi? You ran up a hundred-dollar tab all by yourself?"

Shrugging, Drue was nonplussed. "Hey, tequila isn't cheap."

"How are you still conscious?" he asked, shaking his head in bemusement.

"I switched to beer after a while."

"You owe me for this," he muttered. "And what did that guy mean by causing trouble? What were you doing in here?"

"You could technically describe it as soliciting potential customers."

The bartender returned. "Look, you need to get him out of here before we call the cops."

Pacey smacked Drue on the back a little harder than necessary. "Feeling sobered up yet? Let's go. I got places to be, and I don't feel like having a run in with local law enforcement."

"Right. Like your dad? Don't blame ya there." He stood on shaky legs. "I think I can walk." He wobbled for a moment, but reached out and caught Pacey's shoulder.

They crossed the bar. Drue stumbled, but steadied himself by clinging to his classmate's right arm. "Just don't get any ideas, Witter. I prefer girls."

"Prefer?" Pacey shook his head as he reached out with his left hand and pushed open the exit door.

"I think it's about a seventy/thirty split."

They stepped out onto the sidewalk. "I think you're full of crap. You know, I'm definitely gonna have to tell Jen about this. She'll be interested to know you're going soft."

Drue sniggered. "I'm not going soft, Witter. This isn't some personal crisis. But I have recently come to the realization that I can't do this shit forever. Harvard will be a whole new arena. I'm gonna have to grow up, start being more serious, or I could really mess things up for myself. But I don't know how I'm gonna manage the next four years if I can't do what I'm good at. What can I do if I can't charm people with my good looks and endless supply of mind-altering substances?"

"Develop a personality?" Pacey callously replied.

"I love you, too." Drue stumbled after his dry retort.

Pacey caught the inebriated boy and stood him up. "Watch it. We're almost there. I parked right up the street."

"Conveniently close to the community college. Have you given any thought to my little pep talk earlier?"

"Do you want a ride home, or not?" he said icily.

Drue sighed deeply. "Geez. Fine. How about I just stop talking?"

"Works for me."

"Oy! You there," a voice called out. "The Witter kid! Hold up!"

They halted and turned around. Pacey saw a man waving something at him. He groaned and glanced at the Jeep, parked just a few feet away. "Do you think you can manage to get in the car without my help?"

"Yeah, yeah," Drue muttered, letting go of his arm.

He walked back up the sidewalk. As he reached the guy, a stocky man with beady eyes, he recognized him as Drue's acquaintance, Mack the Bar Owner, who he'd been briefly introduced to weeks ago. He glanced behind him to see Drue bend over behind the Wagoneer and vomit in the street. Good lord.

"Yeah?" Pacey huffed in annoyance, turning to address the man.

"You left this behind at the bar."

Mack handed him a Rhode Island driver's license with the name Gilbert Arturo Sandoval. He supposed the picture could've passed for Drue except for the fact the man in the picture was Latino, had long hair, and looked at least thirty-five. "Uh… thanks."

"Sure thing, Gilbert," the man smirked knowingly. "Look, I better not see anymore of you underage kids in the bar anytime soon. I don't care what kind of I.D. you wave around. I don't need that kind of trouble."

"Right."

Mack grumbled and turned to walk back to the Big Ace Saloon.

Rolling his eyes, Pacey shoved the fake I.D. in his front pocket and started walking back towards the Jeep. Just then a silver Chrysler pulled up to park along the street behind his car and Mrs. Valentine got out. He groaned internally at the sight of her. She took one look at him and her face contorted to her usual sneer, but she didn't seem at all surprised to see him. "Where is my son?" she demanded.

Before he could answer, Drue got out of the Wagoneer's front passenger seat. "Hello, mother," he said, sounding bored. "Looks like you got my message."

"You get in the car this instant!" she barked at him as he started moving towards her vehicle. "Going out to a bar with this miscreant. Drue, I told you not to hang around with the likes of him. He only gets you into trouble, more of which you cannot afford. I will simply not allow you to throw your future away!"

Pacey pulled a confused face and watched as Drue, much steadier on his feet, strolled to her car.

"Thanks for coming down, Witter," he said, his words still slurring slightly. "I had a good time, but as you can see, there's no need for you to drive me home." Just as he reached his mother's passenger side door, he turned and winked at him before pulling the door open and getting inside.

Mrs. Valentine fixed Pacey with a mean glare. "Disgraceful. I told that trash Potter girl that the two of you needed to stay away from my son, or there would be consequences. Well, if anything should happen to Drue because of this, you can guarantee there will be!"

He stared, dumbfounded as the woman got back inside her car. He watched her mouth open in a furious tirade as she buckled her seat belt. Drue seemingly ignored her and instead swept a smirking, malicious gaze in his direction. Brows furrowing, still trying to process the chaos of the past fifteen minutes, Pacey was still standing there as Mrs. Valentine drove off.

With a shake of his head, he got back behind the wheel and started the engine. The digital clock on the dash told him it was after eight. The pedestrians on the sidewalk looked like college students, and he noticed that most of them had cell phones plastered to their heads. He tried to imagine how they'd react if they suddenly had to entertain themselves with only their thoughts. It seemed like everyone had a cell phone all of a sudden. He didn't get the appeal. Why talk to people more than you absolutely had to?

For several minutes he sat listening to the radio, debating whether he should even bother going home at this point. He may as well just start the drive to Hyannis. It wouldn't hurt to show up a little early. The thought of putting this weird episode behind him and seeing Joey again made him smile. As he imagined their reunion at the train station, Pacey reached for the gear shift.

His smile vanished when he saw red and blue lights flashing in the rearview mirror. He turned around and saw a sheriff's cruiser parking behind him. Closing his eyes, he cursed under his breath. A familiar red-haired officer, late twenties, tall and slim with an angular face, got out of the cruiser and approached cautiously, his hand on the holster of his gun. Pacey fought hard not to roll his eyes as he lowered the window and stuck his head out.

"Is something wrong, Deputy? The only things I might be guilty of are reckless daydreaming and failure to yield to technology."

The officer did not appreciate his wit. He stared, unamused, as he shone his flashlight over the tags in the windshield. "License and registration, sir."

He felt bewildered, to say the least. "Are you serious, Brendan?"

"That's Deputy Callaghan to you."

His teeth clenched. Just what he needed was a uniform with a power trip. "Have I done something wrong? This is a legal parking space, and all I was doing was sitting here." The man's lips pinched silently in response, so Pacey pulled his wallet from his back pocket. He handed over his license.

Brendan Callaghan nodded. "And what about the registration?"

Pacey lifted the center console, but it was empty except for some CD cases. Then he reached over to open the glove compartment and shoved his hand inside, blindly feeling around for anything that felt like the registration. There were a couple maps, some McDonald's napkins, and a small brown paper bag he grabbed and shoved aside. He had no idea where that was from, but didn't think to dwell on it and then closed the compartment.

"The, uh, registration isn't in the glove box or the console." He was becoming more irritated by the second. He didn't have time for this. "Technically, this isn't my car, so…"

"You don't say," the officer grinned spitefully.

"Brendan, you know this is my mom's car."

"Deputy Callaghan or sir. Don't make me say it again, Pacey."

He took a deep breath. "Okay, sorry, sir. Look, I don't know where my mom's registration is."

"Please step out of the car and keep your hands where I can see them," the deputy said.

Unbelievable. "You've gotta be kidding me," Pacey muttered under his breath as he opened the door and got out on the curb. His feet had barely hit the ground before he found himself twirled around, up against the car, his hands placing flat on the roof.

The officer started to frisk him. "You got any weapons on you?"

"Weapons?!" he replied in shock. "No, man. Jesus Christ."

Brendan reached into his front jeans pocket and pulled out the two fake I.D. cards. "Well, well, well… a couple of Rhode Island gents. Gilbert Arturo Sandoval and… David Kebo. This certainly fits."

"Fits what?" he spat angrily, before being spun back around to face the deputy.

"A concerned citizen reported that a young man, underage, who fits your description, was in that bar up the street using a fake I.D. and may have been involved in some other suspicious activity." Brendan held up the two Rhode Island licenses.

He grimaced. The next time he saw Drue Valentine, he vowed to murder him. "Fits my description?"

"Over six feet tall, brown hair, blue eyes. Sounds like you, doesn't it? Were you in the Big Ace Saloon tonight, Pacey?"

"Yeah, for like five minutes to pick up a… well, he's certainly not a friend. I was there to get a drunk classmate who called me and needed a ride home."

Brendan then put on a dramatic performance of looking inside the Wagoneer and at the sidewalk and street all around them. "Well, I don't see any drunk friend."

"His mother came and picked him up."

"How convenient."

"Look, his name is Drue Valentine. And I wasn't drinking, okay? You can give me a breathalyzer, if you want. You can go inside the bar and ask the owner yourself."

"Don't think I won't, Pacey." He shone his flashlight into the Jeep's windows. "Mind if I search your vehicle?"

He set his jaw, his eyes narrowing. "Don't you need a warrant for that?"

The officer's face hardened. "Smart guy, huh? Well, seeing as how I found fake identification on your person—and I'm sure you know that's illegal—I have probable cause to search your car. Do you not want me to search the vehicle? You got something worth finding in there?"

Pacey hung his head and huffed in frustration. "No, of course not. There's nothin' in there, man."

"Then you don't mind if I look around?"

"You know what? Go right ahead," he sneered, and then looked at his watch. "Just please be quick about it 'cause I have to be in Hyannis by nine to pick up my girlfriend. I can't be standing around here all night." The officer grasped him by the arm and started leading him back to the patrol cruiser. "Are you serious?" he groaned.

"I'm getting sick of your mouth." Brendan opened the back door of his vehicle and shoved him into the seat. "Just sit there and shut up."

"Am I being arrested?"

The deputy grinned. "I don't know yet. We'll see, won't we?" Then he walked back to the wagon.

Pacey sat waiting in the back seat of Deputy Callaghan's cruiser, the lights still on, flashing red and blue. He couldn't believe this was happening. He wanted to throttle Drue. Mostly he was starting to feel sick that Joey and Jen were gonna show up at the train station and he wasn't going to be there to meet them. Less than ten minutes later, the officer was back, fixing him with an arrogant look of triumph.

"Well, if this isn't my lucky day," Brendan said as he opened the front driver's side door and smiled back at him through the mesh. "I think I'm gonna need to call for some back up."

"Back up?" he scoffed nervously, his stomach tightening into knots as he noticed the guy was wearing latex gloves. What the hell was going on?

"Your brother's on duty tonight." The deputy shook his head and laughed as he picked up his radio. "This'll be interesting." A second later he was speaking into the hand mic, telling Doug Witter he had his little brother in the back seat of his squad car.

Several minutes later, another sheriff's cruiser drove past, slowing down to park on the street in front of the Jeep Wagoneer. Pacey watched intently as Doug joined Brendan on the sidewalk next to his mom's car. Watched as shock registered all over his brother's face. Deputy Callaghan was holding something in his hand, showing Doug, and then the two men walked over to his brother's cruiser. The trunk was popped open, and he could barely make out the two deputies hovering in front of it.

A few minutes passed, and then Doug was walking back up the sidewalk towards him. He motioned with his fingers for Pacey to get out of Deputy Callaghan's car. He stepped out and started moving toward his older brother.

"What are you here to do, Doug? Arrest me?"

"Well, you certainly wouldn't have left me with much choice in the matter. But no, I'm not going to be the arresting officer. I believe Deputy Callaghan is practically giddy over the prospect of putting you in handcuffs and walking you into the sheriff's station."

He closed his eyes and pinched his nose, taking a deep breath. "Is someone gonna tell me what is going on?"

"Pacey, do you have any idea how much trouble you're in?"

Anger and fear twisted into a torturous force around him. "Well, no, Dougie, seeing as how I don't even know what the hell is happening right now."

His brother grasped him by the arm and lowered his voice. "Brendan Callaghan found Ziploc bags of ecstasy tablets in your glove compartment."

"What?!" His eyes popped, and then realization dawned. Drue Valentine. "That son of a bitch!"

"Yeah. Inside a brown paper bag. Unfortunately for you, we measured the tablets and they came to fifteen grams."

Seething, he could only shake his head. Too much was happening. His mind was in a tailspin. He couldn't wrangle his thoughts. "Fifteen grams?" he repeated dumbly.

"Yes, Pacey. Fifteen grams of a Class B controlled substance. Anything fourteen grams or more is an automatic trafficking charge. That saddles you with possession with intent to distribute. It means what could've been a misdemeanor will now be a felony charge. Congratulations."

"Doug, do you honestly believe this is something I would do? Those pills aren't mine! I never saw that bag before tonight when I had to look in the glove box for Mom's registration."

"Yeah? Then who do they belong to?"

"Drue Valentine."

His brother scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief as his hands went to his hips. "What did I tell you about associating with that clown?"

"He called me and needed a designated driver, Doug. I was just trying to do the right thing. I didn't know he had that stuff, and I certainly didn't know he was going to leave it in Mom's car."

"Well, you're involved now. Pacey, this isn't something that I can just have dropped. My hands are tied. Brendan has an axe to grind against Dad. He's not going to let this go. He will pursue this to the fullest extent possible."

"What are you saying, Dougie?"

"I'm saying you're going to be arrested and booked, Pacey."

Before he could say anything in reply, he saw Deputy Callaghan was standing there. "Did you explain the situation to him, Doug?"

His brother sighed. "I did."

"I'm gonna have to put you under arrest, Pacey," Brendan said. "Your brother is going to call a tow truck and have your car impounded while I take you down to the station for booking." The man glanced at Doug, a brief look of sympathy in his gaze. "Look, Pacey, I can see no reason to place you in handcuffs, unless you try to resist. So, just get back in my car and we'll go down to the station."

Pacey was white as a sheet. His throat was tight, and he couldn't speak. Then Joey's face flashed in front of his eyes and all he felt was panic. "Doug, I was supposed to be in Hyannis at nine to get Joey from the train station. She'll be waiting there for me. You gotta call somebody. Call Gretchen. She's working at the restaurant. Ask her to go pick up Joey for me. I can't leave her stranded there. Please, Dougie!"

"I'll take care of it, Pacey," his brother said, placing a calming hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry about Joey."

"Come on, let's go," Deputy Callaghan said, grasping hold of his arm.

They started to walk back to the sheriff's cruiser. Doug called out after him. "You know to keep your mouth shut, right, Pacey? Don't say anything until Dad gets there."

Anger burned inside him once again. "He's talking like I'm guilty. I told him those pills aren't mine."

"Ignoring your brother's advice already? I like that," Brendan chuckled.

Pacey bit his tongue and kept quiet as he got into the back seat. He watched in silence as the deputy got behind the steering wheel and contacted the station on his radio. Once the man was done calling in the arrest, he turned the lights off and shifted the car into gear. Then he pulled away from the curb.

"You know I have to read you your rights and everything?"

"I was wondering when that was coming," he snarked.

"Thought I'd spare you the embarrassment of doing it in front of your big brother."

"Gee, thanks, bud."

Brendan Callaghan laughed breathlessly. "You have real issues with authority figures, don't ya, kid? Especially ones in uniform, I bet."

"Are you gonna read me my rights, or what?"

"Okay, okay. Don't get your panties in a bunch. I have to say… I'm gonna enjoy this," Brendan chuckled. He cleared his throat. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you."

Pacey stopped listening. His mind raced. It hadn't truly sunk in yet. It felt like a dream almost, a nightmare. Was this real? Was it really happening? How could he have let this happen to himself?

Fear began to fill his heart. Not over what waited for him at the sheriff's station. Not over his reputation, his fate, and what this could mean for his finals, graduation, future. The only thing on his mind now was what this meant for Joey. She consumed his thoughts. How would she react to this? She was still so fragile, so hurt over her father. And here her boyfriend sat, about to be charged with a felony. Memories of her soft kisses, her affection, didn't even calm him because all he could think about at the moment was her sharp tongue. Just the thought of having to look her in the face made him cringe. Pacey couldn't bear to look into her eyes and see anger and disappointment there.

It wasn't long before they arrived at the Capeside Sheriff's Station. Deputy Callaghan led him through the entrance to a window where he was to surrender his personal effects, and he turned over both his watch and his wallet. They were then buzzed through a door and he was led inside the station. There were several other uniformed deputies inside, and they all turned to stare at him. Pacey caught a few stunned expressions, but he forced himself not to make eye contact.

He was led to Booking, where he was given a breathalyzer and then formally charged with possession of fake identification cards and drug possession with intent to distribute. Pacey remained mostly silent throughout. Once he was photographed and fingerprinted—the booking and processing procedures completed—he was led to a holding cell.

"Do you have any suicidal tendencies we should be aware about, Pacey?" the booking officer, Deputy McCarthy, asked him as he opened the cell door.

He sighed and stared at the man. "Not yet, Bill," he quipped, and stepped inside.

The deputy shook his head as he locked the cell door behind him. "Tough break, Pace. But you gotta buck up, ya know? Your old man's the sheriff, and you've never gotten in any real trouble before. I doubt anything too terrible will happen to ya."

"You honestly think Brendan will let me get off easy?"

"Well, it ain't up to him, Pacey. It's up to the judge. And if I'm not mistaken, Judge Welsh has been known to entertain the occasional poker night at his house, and I believe the good sheriff is always a guest."

The more Deputy McCarthy kept mentioning his dad, the more Pacey's stomach began to twist. The thought of dealing with his father was filling him with a sickening dread. "When can I get out of here? I can bail myself out, can't I?"

"Well, seeing as it's after regular business hours, we'll need to call the bail commissioner down here. Might take a little while, but you'll probably end up being released without having to pay any bail, all right?"

"Well, don't I get a phone call, Bill?"

"Pacey, your brother is heading back to the station as we speak and I believe the sheriff is on his way here now from Barnstable. Who else you need to call?"

Hopefully Gretchen had gone to Hyannis to get Joey, so he couldn't call either of them right now. Suddenly Dawson sprang to mind, a desire to talk to his former best friend welling up inside, but he quickly pushed that thought away and frowned. "No one, I guess," he muttered before sitting on a wooden bench and leaning his head back against the wall.

"Just sit tight, Pacey. Okay?"

Then Deputy McCarthy walked away, leaving him alone.

The cell was bare and empty. He was the only occupant. On three sides were sold gray walls that hadn't seen a coat of paint in decades. The other was steel bars. There were three short benches along the solid walls. There was a sink in the corner that he suddenly recalled vomiting into after Matt Caufield's Anti-Valentine's party. He grimaced and stared up at the ceiling.

Pacey had no idea how much time had gone by when he heard the sound of footsteps approaching and turned to see Doug and his father appear on the other side of the steel bars. He prayed the earth would open up and swallow him. No such luck.

A tense silence filled the air. It was several long moments before anyone spoke.

"Do you remember the last time you were in this holding cell, Pacey?" John Witter said in a calm and menacing voice.

"Yes, sir," he answered, his eyes on the floor in front of him.

"Do you remember the warning I gave you? I told you that if you ever publicly shamed me like that again, I'd throw the book at you and make you an example to this community. You remember that?"

He closed his eyes and heaved a deep sigh. "Yes, sir."

"Well, I guess I didn't have to throw the book at you after all. Brendan Callaghan beat me to it."

Pacey finally looked up at his father. "Not that you care, but those pills aren't mine, Pop." His gaze shifted to his brother. "Didn't you tell him, Doug?"

"Yes, I told him, Pacey. I also told him how I went into the Big Ace Saloon and spoke to both the owner and the bartender, and how they both said that Drue Valentine had never been in there. They only could recall Sheriff Witter's kid being inside the bar. I drove to the yacht club and spoke with Carolyn Valentine. She insisted Drue has been home all evening with her, and she wouldn't let me speak to him. After I left, she apparently called the mayor—"

"And now I've got him breathing down my neck telling me it would unfortunate if the Valentines got pulled into this situation," his father griped.

"So, it's gonna end up being your word against theirs," Doug continued. "Brendan isn't going to pursue any other suspects because frankly this is open-and-shut. It's wrapped up perfectly. It's got a bow on it. And we can't step in and take over Brendan's investigation because he'll spin it to make it look like interference to cover up your guilt."

"I don't believe this," he groaned. "That son of a bitch. When I get my hands on Drue—"

"You're not going to do anything. You better listen to me this time, little brother, and listen up good. Stay away from Drue Valentine. Don't go anywhere near him. Don't speak to him. Nothing. You got it?"

John Witter took out a ring of keys from his pocket and unlocked the cell door. "Let's go, Pacey."

"Don't I have to post bail?"

"I spoke with the bail commissioner and you're being released on your own personal recognizance," his brother told him. "Your arraignment is scheduled tomorrow at District Court in Orleans, and I've made assurances on your behalf that you will be there. A lawyer is going to meet you there at eight-thirty."

He stood up and stepped towards them. His stomach bottomed out. The full weight of what was happening was finally dawning on him. Realization struck him like a boxer's punch. Fear twisted his insides into a painful knot. "But… I have final exams tomorrow. I… I can't miss them. I'll fail. I have to—"

"I'm sorry, Pacey." Doug took a deep breath and shook his head.

John Witter's mouth became a thin line of contempt. "I hope you're proud of yourself. Do you have any idea what this is going to do to your mother? What this does to our reputation in Capeside? That you've now put my position as sheriff of this county in jeopardy? The election is next week! Do have any idea what your stupidity could cost me? The mess you've dragged me into?"

Pacey stared at his father. Did the man care for nothing, think of nothing, but himself? Indignation burned like hot coals in his chest. "The fact that I'm innocent doesn't mean anything to you?"

"Whether the pills belonged to you or not doesn't change the fact they were found in your possession. It won't change public perception of your involvement, no matter how minimal that might be. And now I'm stuck having to go and do damage control for my campaign. At court tomorrow, you're gonna take the high road and plead guilty. I don't need this mess dragged out."

His face burned. "So, that's it, Pop? You don't even care about what could happen to me? You're not even going to fight for me? All you care about is cleaning up the mess?"

"You brought this on yourself, Pacey. Apparently, you're not satisfied with being a moron and a failure, now you gotta add felon to your list of credentials."

His face fell as he gaped at his father. He felt as if a crater had been blown into his chest.

"Jason Monroe is the best public defender in the county," Doug told him reassuringly, throwing a disapproving glance at their father. "He's a good guy. You'll be in capable hands, okay? You don't have a record. You'll probably be able to avoid a prison sentence."

"Probably?" Then without another word, Pacey shoved his father out of the cell doorway and stormed past them. He walked fast toward the front of the station and pushed through the doors that led to the lobby. After collecting his watch and wallet at the front window, he started making for the exit.

"Pacey, hold on!" Doug called out, rushing after him. "I'm giving you a ride home."

"I'd rather walk, thanks!" he snapped angrily, throwing the door open forcefully.

The cool night air greeted him, feeling good on his overheated skin. At that moment, his gaze fell on someone across the street and he stopped short, sucking in a breath. There was Joey, leaning against her blue truck. Part of him lit up at the sight of her, felt blessed relief. Another part hung heavy, knowing she could only be there because she knew that he was, wondering how he could ever explain what had happened tonight. Yet he hurried forward to meet her with a violently beating heart.

Joey's breathing quickened, emotion tightening her throat, as she watched him cross the street, closing the distance between them. Then he was there, arms outstretched. She went straight into them, hugging him as the tears began to stream down her face.

Pacey held her close, breathing in her comforting scent. He still hadn't come to any decision about what to say to her. Should he blurt it out or break it to her gently? Then he slowly pulled half away so he could look into her face. "How long you been out here?"

She swallowed and took a deep breath. "About an hour. I wanted to go inside and ask about you, ask to see you, but…" She choked back a sob. "I couldn't walk in there, Pacey. I just… I couldn't. I'm sorry."

"Hey, it's okay," he said soothingly. His hand ran down her hair, and then moved to her cheek, wiping her tears with his fingers.

The sound of the sheriff's station door opening behind them caused them to look in that direction. Doug and his father were standing there staring at them. Pacey turned back to her. "Just… can you take me home? I wanna get out of here."

"Yeah. Yeah, of course." Joey rubbed his arm and then opened the door to her truck as he started walking around to the passenger side.

They were soon on the couch in his living room, where they'd joined his sister, and Pacey proceeded to tell them everything that had transpired with Drue and Deputy Callaghan earlier that evening. When he finished recounting his story there was silence for a moment, then Gretchen sighed.

"I'm so sorry, Pace. You're gonna plead not guilty tomorrow, right?"

"Won't that mean a trial?" he glanced at Joey beside him, who blanched at what he'd said. Guilt and disappointment greatly chagrined his mind. Is that what her summer before Worthington would entail? The ordeal of a trial? He didn't want to put her through that. He didn't want her to start her life in Boston with that burden over her head.

"Well… you're innocent," Gretchen stated.

With no real way to prove it, he thought bitterly. "Yeah."

"Look, I'm gonna head up to bed. Try and get some sleep tonight, Pace. I'll see you in the morning, okay?"

"Goodnight, Gretchen."

They watched his sister leave the room, listened to her footsteps on the stairs. A heavy silence filled the room in her absence. Pacey leaned his arms on his thighs and ran the fingers of one hand over the knuckles of the other. Terror seized him when he realized his life could forever change in the morning. What if he was sentenced to jail?

"Apparently, you're not satisfied with being a moron and a failure, now you gotta add felon to your list of credentials."

His father's last words rang clearly in his ears. He raised his hands to cover his face. There was so much he had wanted to prove to his father. He'd worked his ass off all year, in part trying to prove the man wrong. He'd been determined to walk on that stage and get his diploma. Determined to keep proving his father wrong. To start a better life a hundred miles away. Now he might not get that chance. His heart ached for the disappointment he'd always been. If only he could be allowed the time to show him that he wasn't a worthless failure. Maybe it didn't matter. Perhaps his father was right. Maybe he was exactly just that.

He smelled the faint vanilla scent of her and felt the dip in the couch cushion before he felt Joey's arm around his shoulder. He lowered his hands from his face to look at her. She was studying him intently.

"What's going on inside that head of yours?" she asked quietly.

"Thinking about how different my life would've been if my dad had been anything at all like yours."

Joey scoffed. "You don't even want to go there."

"Come on. It was plain as day how much he loved you and Bessie. Loves, I should say." He sighed heavily. "My dad looked me in the eye and told me he didn't care what happens to me like it was nothing. Like it was easy." He paused, and she leaned close, pressing her lips to his cheek. "I know he's always been a bastard, but I'd still let myself believe that if there was ever any sort of real crisis, you know, he'd be there for me like any normal father. God, how stupid am I?"

"You're not stupid." A single tear escaped Joey's eye, but she quickly caught it with a finger and wiped it away. Distress enveloped her as her heavy heart pounded erratically. How could happiness turn to pain so quickly? She felt helpless, fatigued, and frozen as in a nightmare, for she could do nothing to rescue him from his dilemma.

She wrapped both arms around him, pressing her cheek against his shoulder.

"You don't have to feel sorry for me, Jo. If anyone should be angry right now, it's you. I screwed up. I always knew I would. It's the curse."

"I don't feel sorry for you, Pacey. I feel for you. And I'm not angry—not at you. None of this is your fault. You didn't do anything wrong."

He shook his head. "And regardless of what happens in court tomorrow, I won't be at school. That's two finals I'll automatically fail just by not showing up. And I have to pass the final exam to pass the class. I'm… I'm not gonna graduate." His throat seized with emotion. Everything he'd worked so hard for was slipping away. How could this be happening?

Her heart broke for him. "Well, maybe if you explain, then… they'll let you take them another day this week."

"Getting arrested won't exactly earn me sympathy points with the teachers, Jo. And if worse comes to worst, and I plead guilty like my dad wants me to and get sentenced to prison, well, then I won't be taking any exams this week, will I?"

Terror seized her for a moment and threatened to break that grip of self-control with which she was holding herself. "What can I do to help you? Do… do you want me to go with you tomorrow?"

Pacey sighed. The only thing she could do was be there. He knew if he begged, then she would go with him in the morning to the arraignment. He couldn't ask that of her; he wouldn't ask it of her. He wasn't about to let her risk her academic standing. She'd worked so hard to climb out of the number four spot, and then to hold on to her place as number two. He couldn't let her throw it all away for his sake. He'd hate himself even more than he did right now.

"No. I don't want you to be there."

Joey felt a confusing mixture of relief and disappointment. Part of her was glad she wouldn't have to sit in a courtroom and listen as a judge once again turned her world upside down. She also felt grateful she wouldn't have to blow off three AP exams, but to be so summarily rejected stung a little.

Her silence nearly suffocated him, and Pacey had to bite his tongue to keep from taking back the lie. Dammit, he wanted her to be there. To be there to hold his hand tomorrow when he learned his fate—or perhaps their fate. How could she go off to Worthington with both a father and boyfriend in jail? What kind of life was that? She couldn't start college with that hanging over her head. She'd have to cut him loose. He'd make her do it if she refused.

"Okay, if that's what you want…" she finally said.

With her arms around him, they sat there quietly for a moment. Then she glanced up at the clock and saw it was almost one in the morning. She cringed.

Pacey felt a subtle withdrawal in her and asked, "What?"

"Nothing." She paused a moment, glancing at the clock again. "Do you wanna come back to my house and stay with me tonight?"

"I'm not up to going out again. Let's just stay here, all right?"

She frowned, hesitating. "I… can't."

"Why not?"

"It's just… finals start tomorrow and my textbooks and notes are at home. It's getting late and I still have to study."

He looked at her, almost in shock, bristling at her words. "I didn't realize you were watching the clock," he said. Then he remembered he'd told her that he'd help her study tonight, and inwardly berated himself. Another broken promise.

Her stomach twisted at his tone, knowing she'd upset him. "Well, I mean, I can stay for a little while longer."

"Nah. Don't worry about it."

"Pacey…"

"It's fine, Joey. Really. I've screwed up enough things tonight. I know how important doing well on your exams is to you. I want you to do well. I don't wanna hold you back from that."

Her face fell as she gave him a pitying look. She knew she should stay, but the sudden desire to run from the room and her feelings of fear and helplessness had welled up strongly. She wanted to hide beneath the covers of her bed, to sleep and then wake up to find it had all been a bad dream. She knew she couldn't do that; she knew running away wouldn't make the problem disappear.

But it was the only thing she could do right now. "You'll call me in the morning?"

He nodded.

"I love you."

He smiled sadly. "I love you, too."

Joey kissed him softly on the lips. But he sat there emotionless, void of all feeling except for the self-hatred for his own unthinking stupidity. Numbly, his lips failed to respond.

Reluctantly, she stood up and put on her jacket. When she reached the sliding glass door, she turned to him. "Are you sure you're gonna be okay? I mean, I'll stay if you want me to…"

It was obvious to him she wanted to leave. "Yeah, Jo. I'll be fine. I should probably be alone right now, anyway," he said, shrugging it off.

Then she was gone, and sadly he felt just that—terribly and dreadfully alone.