Part 15

Joey's POV

Clamp. Cut. Suture. It's mechanical, practical. Small gestures that can save a life. It's one of the things that I like about surgeries; they're usually predictable, unlike life.

I never thought that John would propose that night a week ago. It was shocking; I kept staring at him for a long time, speechless. A part of me, that scared little girl that shows up form time to time, wanted to say yes, to preserve a friend form being hurt. And then I saw the past ten years of my life passing through my eyes in a glimpse. In a wicked way of fate, I was back at where I started; it was like a life's warning that I had the chance to do things right this time, to follow my heart, once and for all. The scared little girl, went back to hide, and I said the only thing I could. No.

It was hard to see the pain in his eyes, when I said that single word. Two letters, but the meaning behind them could break a heart. He didn't ask me why. He didn't plead. He just said the same words I had heard before.

"It's over, isn't it?"

I tried to find words, trying not hurt him more than I already did, but he seemed to understand, without any other questions. He simply told me that he knew he had wished for more than he could have, but despite that, we could still be friends. I really hope that we will be able to do that. Carter is a great person to have in your life.

I can't stop myself to compare this and the Dawson situation years ago. Dawson was so worried about himself, about being my self claimed soul mate, that he forgot to be exactly what I needed, a friend. Not only when he found out about me and Pacey, but later too, when I told him I was getting married to Eddie, and through my painful divorce, all he could do was mumble about I should be with him. No wonder why our long life friendship is now limited to postcards and random calls on birthdays or holidays. And I have a warm feeling that Carter won't be like that, and it's very relieving.

But despite this, I can't help feeling uncomfortable now that our break up has become pretty much public. I feel the eyes on me, and some murmured words. Hospitals are small societies and it's amazing how the gossip spreads through, I've already heard four different versions of how we broke up. Even Dr. Romano had made one of his smart ass commentaries, something in the line of whose's the next heart that will come in pieces to be fixed. Really nice of him. But what is starting to get on my nerves is that the only person who has not said a word about it, is the one and only. Pacey Witter.

I sigh, finishing the last stitches. Human mind is really a wonder. I can think about my soap-operistic way of life and do my job at the same time. After talking to the patient's family, I head down to the ER, my eyes scanning through doctors and patients, searching him.

We still haven't talked, nothing more than the usual compliments and professional talks, the awkwardness since that kiss still not gone. I ask myself if the fact that Carter and I are over hasn't scared him, that somehow I will put him against a wall, a wall that I'm not quite sure if we're ready to face yet. He's been distant these past days, almost the same when he first got here.

My shift ends and I couldn't catch a sight of him. Abby tells me he had called in sick. That was not his usual behavior, I think, while I get back home. I shower quickly, worry getting the best of me, and soon I'm standing in front of his door, unsure if I should or not knock.


Pacey's POV

The first thing I did today was check the calendar. November 28th. Twenty-eighth of November. I should have noticed it before, Thanksgiving was four days ago. All my brave faade crashing on my feet at the sight of those numbers together. And I almost forgot it. Better put, I was pretending to forget it, dreading that this day would come, making me remember. I don't want to remember that I won't see those blue eyes shining again, her sweet smile, the way she ran to my arms whenever I got home. The way she looked at me when she wanted something, knowing that I would move the world for her. How my world would lighten up when I listened to her tiny voice saying daddy.

I remember the first moment I saw her, still covered in blood and fluid, and all I could think was, wow, I have a daughter. Her pink fingers clutched around mine, making me feel scared and happy, my world had a new reason to keep moving. I will never forget that day. A rainy November day. November 28th.

I stared at the calendar for what seemed an eternity. My feet glued to the floor, my eyes to the piece of paper with bright red numbers. Images from the past five years flashing before me. I couldn't take it anymore. I didn't notice the tears falling, ignored the sobs locked in my throat, my stomach aching, I felt I could throw up at any moment. I'm not sure how I reached the phone, called Gretchen, telling her to pick up Bella and call the County for me. Leaving me alone to face my sorrows and inner demons. Me and old buddy Johnny Walker.

I know that drinking won't help me; it never does, because when you recover, your problems are still there. I'm not the kind to drink away my sorrows, but today, I needed the numbness that comes with the drunken state. I couldn't even look at Bella's face, her eyes so alike her sister's. For one damn moment I asked why she was here and my baby Sammy wasn't. Even knowing that I was thankful for having her.

I poured the golden liquid, carefully watching its glow reflected through the glass; the first sip burning all the way down to my stomach, its warmth bringing some relief to my sickness. After a whole bottle, I still hadn't found the numbness I was looking for. I felt dizzy, sick, and stupid. Everything but numb. I dozed off on my couch, all the alcohol I drank took over me.

I don't know how much time I had been in my drunken stupor when a constant banging woke me up. At first I thought it was just my throbbing head. I shook my head, cursing my own stupidity when I felt the pain. It took me another couple of minutes to realize that there was someone knocking my door. I decided to ignore it, but after a while I heard the door being unlocked. Only two people other than me had a key to my place. And now I was facing a not so happy Joey Potter before me.

I watched her face change from pure concern to rage within seconds. The way her eyes shone, her arms crossed in front of her chest, the pout in her lips. God, I must be really drunk, because I was enjoying having an angry Joey around.

"You are drunk! Drunk as a skunk!"The accusatory tone in her voice almost making me flinch.

"Congratulations, Dr. Potter. It's a brilliant diagnosis. Four years of college and another four at Med School making you come to this conclusion."

"Pacey, what the hell is going on? Regressing to your early highs school days?" She sat on the coffee table in front of me. "And don't you dare say it's nothing."

"I'm starting to regret that I gave you that key." I tried to sit, wincing. Getting drunk like that definitely had not been the smartest idea.

" heard the TV, you weren't answering the door; what else did you expect me to do?"

"Stay away," I answered, ignoring the pain in her brown eyes. She didn't reply, just stood up and left. I closed my eyes, too tired to argue, but was forced to open them again when a splash of cold water hit me.

"What the fuck was that, Potter?"I yelled, feeling very much awake all of a sudden.

"Call it bringing Pacey back to his senses. " She threw her spare key at me, heading towards the door, and I knew I had to stop her.

"Potter, wait."